Wherever you go in the world, you are destined to meet those with whom you might not get along. Everyone is different! We all have different temperments and personalities! Sometimes, certain characteristics of one being might react in very terrible and negative ways with another being. You might find yourself hating every single thing about someone. Or, in my case, as was the case this past Saturday, you might find yourself saying, "Wow. You really are the BIGGEST ASSHOLE IN ALL OF SENEGAL."
I am talking about the ram in my backyard.
He is literally the worst ram that has ever lived.
His crappiness is made even worse by the fact that he barely even acts like a ram. I thought he was a goat for my first two weeks. Scratch that -- I didn't know he existed for the first week, which is crazy given that my backyard is the size of a master bedroom. One day, out of the blue, after a week of living in my new place, I heard a strange noise out back, and when I went to take a gander -- bam. ANIMAL. I asked my host sister, "Where did that goat* come from?" and she responded, "That goat* has always been there!" It hadn't always been there. I would have noticed. I especially would have noticed because this animal is an asshole.
*note: I thought it was a goat and no one corrected me, ever. After a few weeks, I discovered the goat was a ram. Whatever.
So anyway, back to the slow disintegration of the relationship between me and the ram/goat. He didn't bother me much at first, though he had the very annoying habit of knocking over piles of dishes in the night and making weird noises at all hours. On Saturday, I woke up early to do my laundry amid the amused eyes of my family as I continuously spilled water all over myself and failed to clean anything. I was also watched by the goat-ram, but it was chained to a tree in the corner of the yard, so I mostly ignored it. When I finished my laundry, I climbed the backyard stairs and hung my things on the rooftop terrace.
And then.
At the end of the day, when I went to retrieve my laundry and make my way back down the stairs, I found my path blocked by the goat-ram. Because all of my previous interactions with goats have been that they wander but mostly leave you alone, I was not fazed.
"Hi, goat. Move. Here. Move. Over there. Go. You go." (How I speak English to a goat is strangely similar to how I speak Wolof to all people in Senegal)
But there was this moment -- I FELT it, because you can feel interpersonal connections between mammals if you look at their eyes-- this moment when I know the goat looked at my clothespins and thought they were food. I FELT IT. And I said, "NO. NO. NOT FOOD. NO." And I put the clothespins in my pocket.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, the goat-ram attacked me.
You think I am joking, but this is not a joke. This is a warning, this is a lament, this a cautionary tale, this is a horror story: I WAS HEADBUTTED THREE TIMES IN THE STOMACH BY A RAM. A RAM STOMPED ITS HOOVES ALL OVER MY LEGS AND FEET. A RAM BACKED ME UP AGAINST A STONE WALL AND ATTACKED ME, VICIOUSLY, UNTIL I WAS COVERED IN BRUISES.
After yelling, crying, and wailing for a good 30 seconds as the goat-ram intensified assault, one of my host sisters finally appeared, LAUGHING MIND YOU, and beat the goat-ram with a broom. Did the goat-ram leave? Well, it did the whole thug thing of pretending to walk away and cool off... RIGHT BEFORE IT CAME AFTER ME AGAIN.
AND ATTACKED ME AGAIN. TWO TIMES. ONE DAY.
That is the end of the story. Or, rather, because I would prefer to have the last laugh, I consider the story not to be finished quite yet. No. I imagine the end of the story will come sometime near the end of August, or maybe the beginning of November, when my family has a large feast for the end of Ramadan or to celebrate Tabaski. And on this day, I imagine that we eat goat-ram.
So do not tell me that I don't have hardships in the city! Do not tell me that my living is easy! Every day, I have to pass by the goat-ram, withstanding its weird bleating as it hungers for my now-put away clothespins, and I have to continue to live with this family member who wants to kill me. All I can do, everyday, is look the goat-ram straight in the eye, from a healthy distance, and say, "Goat-ram, you are an asshole."
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