Last night after dinner I walked out the front patio of the house to stretch my legs after having eaten dinner on the floor. In the front foyer there were three Talibe boys lying, sleeping, waiting for our leftovers. One boy asked me for 50F but I as always declined. I began thinking of some kind of nice gesture and remembered the growing collection of empty water bottles in my room. Here in Senegal, I have done my very best to drink only the bottled water provided, and avoid eating fruits and veggies from suspect places that may wash fresh food in tap water. Some people think the tap water here is fine. I would rather avoid finding out that its not.
Nevertheless, I rushed upstairs to grab three bottles and filled them up with water as quick as I could. I went back down the stairs and into the foyer to find 4 Talibe boys lying in wait for some food. I distributed the three bottles, and left to find another, giving a reassuring look to the one rather dejected boy who got nothing. Up I went, back into my room, to get another bottle and fill it up. When I went back downstairs I found the foyer empty.
I went out the front door and by then there were 6 boys huddled around the food platter. I left the bottle with the boy I had assured would get one and went back up to my room, peeking over the second story balcony along the way to find 8 boys huddled eating around the food tray, each boy perched on their haunches as though they may take off in flight at any moment. The food had quickly disappeared, and what little bits were leftover were being scooped up with bread chunks slowly and deliberately. I looked out across the field, and there were more boys emerging from the dark, walking in from across the soccer field.
Once in my room I sat down to read my book but shortly after, unable to concentrate, I went back to the balcony to have a look. I peered over the railing and all there was to see were two crushed water bottles and not a soul in sight.
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