It Takes a Village

The greatest part about living in Africa? People love kids. I mean, they really love kids. Everywhere we go, Gusi has instant play mates big and small. Everyone wants to talk to him, asks him his name, even pick him up and hug him (he doesn't always know what to do when this happens). They all believe it takes a village to raise a child.

Lately I've really realized how communal our son is. Our gardener and housekeeper are both Senegalese and have come, in our short time here, to care for Gusi. Our morning conversations go somewhat like this:

Me: Bon jour Antoine!
A: Bon jour Madame. How is Gusi? Did he sleep well?
Me: He's fine Tony, he's inside and will come out shortly. And yes, he slept well, thank you for asking.
A: Madame, tell Gusi that we will water the plants together today and then we will go looking for salamanders in the garden.
Me: I'll do that Tony.

Me: Bon jour Jacqueline! How are you?
J: Bon jour Madame, I am fine, how is Gusi?
Me: He's fine Jackie, he's waiting inside to get his shoes on so he can play in the yard with Tony.
J: Madame, you are running out of the mosquito repellent that is in the hallway. Do you have more? Gusi will need more since there lots of mosquitoes around here. It isn't good for him to be bitten you know.
Me: Yes, Jackie, I have more in the back and I'll make sure to leave it out.

Tony is teaching Gusi to play football (soccer) with a lime from the tree in the back yard. Jackie is teaching him nursery rhymes in French. The Senegalese are teaching all three of us how to have bigger hearts. Perhaps that's why we always include a special prayer for all the children of Senegal each and every night before Gusi goes to bed. If they're taking such an interest in my child, a prayer for theirs is the least I can do.