cleansing

waking up one morning, dipping my half baguette into my sugary black nescafe, the older and recently returned mom, mariam, says the whole family is going to the fields. she wonders if i'll come. i run to my room, call sala and cancel our home brewing plans for the day, and quickly run out of the compound. hopping on the horse cart with the two moms, father (hamidou), and nine kids, we set out for our fields. they are far, i've been told.

we start to approach where the flooding from the rainy season is just receding and my little brother, jibbi, turns and says "there's water. can you do it?" "sure," i say, "alaa cadelle (no problem)." a small portion of the gorgol river has risen to cover the path. my moms, the older of the girls and i hop from the cart as it pulls ahead through the water. the women pull off their tops, holding their boubous above their heads and begin to wade in. i follow closely behind, wearing the wrap skirt of habi, my younger sis. the water gets deeper and deeper until it is covering all of my legs, nearly up to my hips. thick, sludgy mud threatens my invincible sandals. we emerge.

walking through the toothpick trees we approach the wide open field. the men are already there, using heavy picks to break through the dry, tough ground. others follow behind with shoulder-height, thick, pointed posts to create pockets for the seeds. i am soon given a big, cleaned out tomato paste can full of corn and beans. three of each in each pocket, they say.

the sun beats down and i think of the one liter of clean water i brought with, laying in my bag. when we break for sugary, minty tea, i drink all that i have brought. looking into the bucket retrieved probably from the same river i just crossed, i see murky, mud colored liquid. thirsty enough, i pour it through my bandana into my nalgene, hopefully filtering out the worst of the worst. sunburned, fatigued, i nap with the family under the shade of a large prickly tree.

they work for the majority of the day and it isn't until 430 after the hottest of the sun that we start to head back. hundreds, thousands of seeds were sown that day, and they returned the next day, and the day after, to finish

so we walk back through the scratchy bushes to the river where we had first met 30 or so long-horned cows going in the other direction. and again, we wade in. cool in spots, refreshing. exhausted, sore, burned, i feel cleaned by this muddy water. and here we are, where we started.