Mom Arrives from France with a Kiss of Morbier

I should wish for a “Morbier Kiss” for all the Christmas Holiday.

Yes, Mom made it very well from France this past Friday. Can you believe it, she arrived 3 hours late, but hey, what a treat for Marco. Yes I will not be alone this Holiday!

When we arrived home we did our ceremonial gathering; talking about the rest of the family while I was helping her unload her suitcase.

Of course all the presents from my sisters were opened one by one; however, one of the gifts struck my curiosity more than the others.

Very carefully wrapped into three plastic bags to avoid the kind sanitary airport officer was my favorite cheese, the Morbier. I am not sure if I was tripping but when I opened the bag, I knew exactly that it was coming from a specific area in Paris where I grew up.

 
The smell, the color, the flavor, I could see my self running around Rue des quatre vents in Paris’ 6 arrondissement. There was the cheese lady nearby our place and she always loved offering me some Morbier as she knew how much I loved it. 

Yes I think I kept the spirit and ritual that my Dad used to tell us when we were kids in Senegal about all the goods and surprises coming from France.  I was the first one among my sisters who could smell the bags of my parents when they opened them in order to feel France.

So Saturday you can imagine why I was so excited, and perhaps some of you may have realized I had too much of it since it has this particular distinctive smell that sticks in your mouth for very long time. Sorry about that, but how well Mom Alice is here so I love you all.

Merry Christmas and a Morbier Kiss to all of you.

Morbier is a semi-soft cows' milk cheese of France named after the small village of Morbier in Franche-Comté. It is ivory colored, soft and slightly elastic, and is immediately recognizable by the black layer of tasteless ash separating it horizontally in the middle. It has a rind that is yellowish, moist, and leathery.

The aroma of Morbier is strong, but the flavor is rich and creamy, with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

Happy Thanksgiving

Looking at all of you, and closing my eyes, I can already picture the spirit of my grandma Helene in our village Joal. She was always surrounded by joyful people so kind and so friendly. She was known for her magic cooking pans. She was always grateful to the spirit of  the sea for protecting the fishermen.
- Oh mama Helene, I love you so much.

Your turn, citizen of the World, close your eyes, take a big breath, and get through the gate underneath; you might probably land in my childhood golden scenery.

Looking through the window of my mission apartment, I miss you so much all of you my dear beloved. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving day,I will head to Ocean-beach, and dance through the sorrows of my tears. I hope that the spirit of the sea will always protect you in the village.

Jerejef, thank you very much and Happy Thanksgiving

A Baobab Shout

Today, I was walking down 19th st in the Mission, and I saw just in front of me a large tree shaking its branches of knowledge. My curiosity was growing when suddenly I thought that I heard behind me a huge elephant trumping it' s happiness. It was about three in the afternoon and the sun was spreading it s magnificence all over the field.
Was it my imagination that started to trick me again, or was I really back in Joal the village of my ancestors in West Africa. This vision was exactly the same that I always had from the front porch of our summer mansard. It was a little wooden house we used to own near the river in Sine Saloum (Senegal)

The Baobab is so large that it can be surrounded by more than one hundred persons holding arms together. It was also used as a cemetery for generations. Indeed we used to bury family members inside the trunk; therefore, it is known to hold the spirit of our ancestors, and this is why we call it the tree of knowledge. How many times I remember my family during hardship gathering under the umbrella of its branches in order to get enlightened. Some very friendly characters named Golo or monkeys have colonized our tree house for its delicious fruits, named monkeybreads. And if you try to frighten them away, don't be surprise to receive in your face a sweet and sour Baobab fruit.

I was definitely dreaming this afternoon, and was disappointed to realize that the elephant behind me was in fact just the engine of the 14 Mission bus that re-created the same wild vibration. Well, I was emotionally very sad to see how much my mind could have drifted so far today. However, I was pleased to rediscover my dear childhood for a few minutes. Moreover, the Baobab tree appeared to be true on the sign of the Senegalese Restaurant on 19th st at the corner on Mission st.

I just hope that the spirit of  the ancestors will bless us all in the neighborhood.

Jerejef, Thank you for your time

A Baobab in San Francisco

For my Dear Grandma Helene.
One of these days, if you have the opportunity to visit Senegal, do not forget to stop by Joal Fadiouth, the Serer land, two hours south of Dakar. And if you see this old green and red double floor house at the entrance of the Village, allow a special thought for my grand mother Mama Helene, the most generous and loving lady I have ever known. And if you get the chance to look inside the back yard, you will see our family Baobab tree.

Walk under the shadow of the tree, take a seat, close your eyes, and open your ears very well. Listen carefully, you may have the blessing to be enlightened by the spirit of the deep sleepers.
Thank you, Jerejef

Miracle of the Iguana - How I Came Into the World

Hello Dear Reader - Welcome to my blog.  Here is my first entry.  I want to share some surprises from my childhood with you.    This first story tells of a young  boy, myself, born in Senegal, who moved to Paris when he was ten, and finally to San Francisco at the age of 22.

When I was born in Dakar, my mother had already given birth to four girls.  Everyone was excited that finally a boy was coming into the family.  But then there were dangers in the birth. My parents and  all my sisters were hoping that I would survive.  The umbilical cord had wrapped around my neck three times and there was danger I might suffocate before I came out into the world.   My mother's life was also in danger.

Meanwhile, in the Senghor family home village of Joal,  my grandmother, Helene, was praying to the spirit of the Baobab Tree in her backyard that my life and my mother's would be saved. 

At that moment, my grandmother heard a big noise in the backyard and a huge female iguana suddenly appeared with her new-born baby boy iguana following her.   In our tradition, every family in Africa has a totem, a guardian or messenger of the family.  For our family, it was the iguana so this sudden appearance had deep symbolic meaning to my grandmother.

She asked Amadou, her household helper, to run to the main house of the village where there was only one phone to call the hospital in Dakar and describe the miracle.  She interpreted this sign of the iguana to mean that both the mother and the boy could be saved. But sadly the phone was not working.

Meanwhile, my mother in the hospital was praying from the Bible.  At that moment, my mother felt a big movement in her stomach as I flipped around and was released from the cord.  A long labor ensued and after 15 hours, Marc Olivier Thierry Mignane Mady Senghor came out  into the world healthy and fine.  Everyone cheered.  They were so excited.

By the way, "Mignane" in the Serer language means the messenger, "the one who we expect to come."