Photos (top to bottom): image credited to Pulaar; Almamy B.; village of Combal south of Kaolack, with traditional straw-roofed, mudbrick-walled structures.
I returned to Sine Saloum, accompanied by A., for my follow-up visit with Yorro Diallo. Note the earlier entry regarding my first visit at
Marabout.
The trip to Kaolak, via sept place, was eventful. Unlike the prior weekend, when brokers arranged seats for us immediately upon arriving at the gare, this week it was first come, first served, elbows and all. It was an unfortunate start to the day. A. kept a wary eye out for the next available car to Kaolack, and, once spotted, we rushed for the door, pushed our way into the prime middle seats, and paid our fare. I would have been lost without A. Pity the poor toubab. Despite the Senegalese turanga (hospitality), being polite here would get you nowhere.
That wasn't the end of the hassle. A. left the car to purchase some cookies from a street vendor. While he was waiting for change, the taxi begin rolling out of the gare, at the insistence of impatient passenger, who had little sympathy for either A. or his clueless toubab traveling companion. I opened the car door, stepped out, and shouted, but the driver continued rolling out of the gare, and even edged out onto the main road, at which time A. arrived. What ensued was a hard-edged shouting matching between A. and the impatient passenger, who had no use for foreigners, or locals who hang-out with foreigners. A. was not about to take that kind of crap. There were no fists thrown, thankfully, and after an hour the mood had becalmed. The driver was cool throughout, and got us into Kaolack in good time.
Having had the bus experience the week prior (we waited a dusty hour for it to fill), I suggested we catch a taxi from Kaolack to the village, which we did. A. asked me to wait while he looked for one, knowing that the presence of a toubab would inflate the price. (For all things, there is a rice for Africans, and a price for toubabs. Considering the difference in affluence, the price hike is understandable, the Peace Corps volunteers being the exception.) A. found a taxi, and the driver was from Yorro's village, so we arrived in short order.
Yorro was sitting outside the family compound when we arrived. After greetings, we moved to his room.
He asked how I was feeling, then checked my hands, sternum, throat and neck as before. He pronounced that the treatment had been successful, but that I was to continue two further three-day cycles of tea and medicinal water over two weeks. He commented that the color of my skin had improved, was now less pale.
I had anticipated his asking how I was feeling. In fact, my symptoms had significantly lessened during the week. (I'll spare you the details. I doubt you're interested in qualities of snot and phlegm.) Was my improvement attributable to Yorro's treatment, to the power of belief, suggestibility and placebo, or the natural course of an illness? I imagine many of you would say that it doesn't really matter. I agree.
We remained with Yoro for another couple of hours asking about his practice. He was generous both with his time and responding to my questions. Here's a summary of the salient points:
Recall that Yorro's clients are all provided the identical herbal remedies, and that he imbues each prescription with a prayer, specific to the person and their condition. The prayer literally powers or energizes the herbs. I asked Yorro about the nature of these prayers.
The prayers are not from the Koran. The prayers were given to his grandfather (referring to his ancestors) by forest animals, and passed from father to son across generations. The prayers are in Peul, the language of the Pulaar people, an ethnic group found all over West Africa. According to Yorro, Peul is an original language, and his ancestors were the first Pulaars in the Sine Saloum region. Interestingly, many are buried in the area surrounding the village.
I wondered about the energy associated with the prayer: Was it contained in the words themselves; was the energy channeled from Yorro, through the words; was the power channeled from God through the words to the patient? Was there something about the quality with which he spoke the words, as one might refer to the quality of prayer?
Yorro explained that the power was in the words themselves, that I could be taught the prayers and use them myself. There was no reference to channeling energy independent of the words. While the herbs themselves probably have medicinal properties (my assumption), the prayer is active ingredient, and include the patient's name, thus they are client-specific. This has important implications for the disposal of the herbs after use, being that they have the mystical fingerprint of the patient on them. Yorro instructed that the herbs should be buried, and I wrongly assumed that the purpose was to return the spirit of the medicine back to the earth, or some such thing. I learned that the herbs could be taken to a marabout and the fingerprint used to channel a curse back to the patient. Not a god thing. Throwing them away in a dark plastic bag in the trash would suffice. I thought: I really should have buried the first batch a little deeper . . .
Further conversation revealed this: Yorro inherited the ability to discern illness, and this sensitivity has been similarly inherited by his children. (I must admit that I did not ask about gender difference here, if his daughters were similarly gifted. It just seemed that we were talking about fathers and sons.) Along with this gift is the knowledge of the prayers. Yorro is a marabout from a family of marabouts. There are certainly mystical elements to his work, but are no feathers, incense, and rattles here; he is exceptionally pragmatic.
Yorro explained that he collaborates with a Western-trained Seneglese physician living in the area. He's practicing complementary medicine. While he is able to treat a wide variety of conditions, he is not able to treat all illness, and thus occasionally refers patients to his Western-trained colleague, and vice versa. Even the hospital in Kaolack refers patients to Yorro.
I asked about his points of contact when assessing a patient: the hands, sternum, throat, and the back of the neck. What was special about these points, wondering if there was any correspondence with chakras in traditional Chinese medicine. Yorro explained that the sternum represents the location of the mother, suggesting that it was a very important center, but discounted any correspondence to energetic channels.
I asked if his father and grandfather advise him now, despite having passed away. He explained that their influence was confined to life.
Yorro does not wear a grigri. Though he understands and appreciates the power of juju and jinns, it is not his thing. He is focused on patients' healing, through his method, and does not delve into the world of jinns. Twice a week, however, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as prescribed by tradition, the family prepares water grigris, in which patients wash, as we observed at the lutte Senegalese.
I asked about the source of my illness, being that he treats the cause, and not the symptoms solely. Yorro explained that typically such conditions are inherited from the father, that I carry my father's blood, and that my mother was more a passive receptacle. (A. apologized before he translated this.) This confided that my parents were older when I was born, and heavy smokers. Yorro agreed that inhaling second hand smoke creates problems.
When in doubt, blame your parents. Remember that kids!
While he requested a 600 CFA fee (the equivalent of about $1.25), I left Yorro with 10,000 CFA. By his reaction, I realized that the value of 1000 CFA here in Dakar, the center of commerce, is quite difference than its value in the village, where 25 CFA coins are necessary. Yorro was grateful, and offered to treat any of my friends and colleagues in Dakar gratis.
I asked if I could take a photograph of Yorro, but quickly dropped the request when the convivial mood of the room dipped slightly. Yorro explained that Saudi Arabia, in keeping with Islamic doctrine, channels charitable funds into Senegal, and that a grant dispensing organization in Kaolack had been out to film in the area, the intent being a document the need for funds. The problem is that no funds have ever reached the village level. Yorro suspects corruption, and the village feels used. These being his associations to photography, I dropped the matter immediately.
This will not be my last visit to the little village of Combal. At a minimum, I'm inclined to accompany A. down for his monthly visits. I've also broached the idea of a student exchange with his son, who teaches 9-10 year olds in the local village primary school -- 40 students to a class! A. also consulted with Yorro regarding his mum, who is quite ill. I'll be putting pressure on a few of my ISD colleagues with cars to assist with transport. Stay tuned.
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