Introducing Roky Sow

Roky Sow reminds me of my grandmother from Canada. The way that she interrogates people in this seemingly kind way that she shows compassion, she is the epitome of the “good cop” esthetic. She likes to have control over her house. She enjoys knowing the goings on. Things must be organized in the way she likes it, so that she can find it. She jokes and gives a hard time to her children and grandchildren. She tells everyone that they are her child and she cares for each of them.

This woman is my host mother. She is the powerhouse that during the celebratory ram slaughtering she took the machete from my host brother and took over the butchering. He clearly was not doing it correctly. Who else would I want to be named after?

I am also Roky Sow, the child of Roky Sow. I was given my new Senegalese name when I arrived in my town. There was debate on weather to make it Wolof or Pulaar. My host family is Pulaar but I am learning Wolof. My family was hesitant on giving me a Pulaar name in fear that it would cause confusion, however I was a member of their family and wanted to be a representation of that. Actually, the person who was helping me get situated suggested that I be named after my host mother. I hear the name Roky (which, yes, sounds like Rocky Balboa) and I want nothing more than to have this awesome name. Then it was real. Two Rokys in one house. We call each other “name-sake” and I love being called “Roky” across the road.

Or it was just two until recently…

I went to work one day to find my host brother’s wife in the maternity ward holding this tiny tiny little girl with some of the most beautiful head of hair. I was overjoyed and work left my mind, just hold this child and express my affection, beauty, and amazement of my sister in law.

Next came the planning of the baptism. After about a week there is this giant celebration of this child’s life. There is no name for the girl until this day. In the morning, the religious leader come to the house, along with basically the entire town, and the baby’s head is shaved and cleaned. All that beautiful hair is unfortunately taken off, and then she is handed off to the father, my brother. The religious leader whispers the child’s name and the baby is blessed.

Now introducing Roky Sow. She has already had a ram slaughtered for her and have already met about 100 people who will know her name to bless her. I spent the morning gawking at my younger “namesake” and didn’t want to leave. I went back and forth from helping cook food for these 100 people, getting tea and gawking. She is just a week old and has so much potential and wonder ahead of her. And I can’t believe that I get to watch her grow up while my time here.

I feel so incredibly knit into this family. While I partly believe this new one was named after my host mother, like me, everyone shared the same excitement as me when discovering the name, I at least get to share that moment with others. I love it when people ask how my namesake is doing, and I get to say which one, and respond that they are both at peace. I feel a euphoria when I am with this child, and that I get to be near and care for her

So let me introduce you to Roky Sow, Roky Sow, and Roky Sow, the three generations all living under one roof.