Sadio Diallo

Sadio Diallo:
Sangalkam, Senegal
April 5, 2010

As I said before, I am named after my “mother” in Sangalkam, Mariama Saido Diallo. She goes my Sadio and I go by Mariama. Sadio is deaf and communicates through animated signing. Despite her handicap, she is incredibly easy to understand. She has the biggest heart and takes pride in taking care of me. She cares for me as if I were her own daughter and cries when I leave as much as my real mother. She understands how much I work and study during pre-service language class so she insists on always doing my laundry, Alhamdulilah (praise be to god). It smells fresh and is pressed and folded upon return – take notes for when I come back home, mom and dad. She also found out how much I love eating salad for dinner. Consequently, I eat fresh lettuce from our market with sautéed onions, hard-boiled eggs, shaved carrots, juicy tomatoes, and diced potatoes, with savory Dijon vinaigrette. It is this thoughtfulness, consideration, and respect of a different culture that makes Sadio an exception.

On the surface, Sadio is fun–loving and carefree. She takes excellent care of her two children, Isotou and Ibrahima, and is the best cook in the compound. But it took a while for me to find out her real story. I knew she had two kids but I was not aware of any husband or lover. Toward the last days of my homestay, over preparing ataaya, Sadio told me her story. She had been married off at a relatively young age, I believe 20, but possibly older. Her husband used to beat her because she is deaf and was frustrated easily by her. She explained how she would try to fight back but he was bigger so it got her nowhere. She told me how she tried not to cry in front of her kids and how she didn’t know what to do since there was no one for her to turn to seek out help. One day, her husband hit her in front of Isotou and Ibrahim. They both started to cry feeling fearful and betrayed. For Sadio, that was enough. She left that very day, took the kids, and went back to her family house two towns away. Her husband tried to force her to come back and she refused. In protest, he tried to move in to her family’s compound, but the family fought back and protected Sadio. Shortly after, she divorced him and has lived with the rest of her brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces since then, working together to support the family.

In Senegal, while divorces do occur, they are rare. And being considered second-class citizens, the power to walk away is extraordinary. Moreover, familial support in this situation, where marriage of a woman is emphatically valued, is, frankly, astonishing.

Sadio’s handicap alone is difficult to over come. But the strength she showed when signing to me her story and resilience in overcoming deafness, an abusive husband, breaking societal norms by leaving, refusing a man, denying remarriage, and raising two children on her own is simply phenomenal.

My host mother Sadio is a rare exception. Too many women do not have rights, feel helpless, isolated, and lack the strength to stand up for themselves. Gender equality is a very different concept here and for her to battle and overcome what she went through is truly remarkable.