One of the things that often surprises American visitors to Senegal, and particularly female visitors, is that one's marital status is considered to be a subject of public concern and thus is fair game for conversation with just about anyone who crosses your path. One of the first questions that women are asked in casual conversation is "how is your husband?" If you are foolish enough to answer 1) I don't have a husband 2) my husband is in the United States 3) I have a boyfriend or 4) I have no husband or boyfriend, you have effectively opened the door to any and all potential suitors. Popular opening lines include "You need a husband here and in the US" or "You need a Senegalese husband because we are so much more effective than other men."
I was reminded of the marriage mandate on Saturday when I spent the day at a back-to-school open house at the community center I am studying out in Yeumbeul. For a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that things always look more important if you have a tubaab in attendance, I found myself sitting at the VIP table in the front of the meeting hall. Shortly after I took my seat, I felt a gentle tap on the shoulder. I turned around to face the two sixty-something gentlemen who were seated in the row behind me.
In a very polite tone, gentleman #1 tells me that gentleman #2 wants to know if I have a "kilifa", a polite and deferential word for husband. "Ah yes" I said in response, "I do indeed have a kilifa."
"I knew it!" gentleman #2 retorted. "Anyone can see that you have a kilifa!" Although I could be mildly flattered that gentleman #2 thought I was attractive enough to be married off already, the fact is that few Senegalese women remain unmarried for long stretches of time, so it is not unsurprising for a woman of my age to be married. I joked in response that I was an old lady and so of course I was already married, and the older gentlemen clucked their agreement that yes, it was to be expected (however disappointing) that I have a husband.
The flip side of the marital-status-is-the-public's-business is that once it has been established that you are indeed another man's wife, it becomes extremely distasteful if not outright offensive to show romantic interest in you. You are effectively off limits.
This principle came into play less than 30 minutes later at the same event when the mayor of Malika, seated to my right, asked me when I was going to pay him a visit. Having no intention of ever visiting him, I nonetheless handed him my business card and said I could visit him at the time of his choosing. I was not entirely clear if his intentions were above board, but I had an inkling that he was not inviting me to see him because he had an interest in cultural anthropology.
Throughout the event the mayor watched me exchanging glances and a few comments with an American colleague (male) who was also in attendance. As soon as the event ended Mr. Mayor made a beeline for said colleague and immediately apologized. "I have made a grave mistake" he said, "I invited your wife to come visit me." Not thinking that he could have easily accepted the apology and therefore shielded me from further advances, my colleague responded, "Oh, no problem. She's not MY wife." Nonetheless, the mayor was deterred and I managed to get through the rest of the event with no further propositions or questions about my marital status.
Note to all prospective female travelers to Senegal: You do have a husband, he is in Senegal with you, and anything that Senegalese men can do, he can do better.
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