What kind of insightful political commentary can a newly arrived toubab offer up on the situation in Senegal? Yes, that is rhetorical question. I barely have the confidence to write anything about Mali these days.

I will be listening and observing and keeping my mouth shut for now. Most of all, I will be hoping for the best for Senegal.

On Tuesday I posted a call to the universe. I went to Mbour looking for:

• a Malian worth knowing
• The best ceebu jën I’ve ever had
• a cowboy hat

Let’s take the score.

A Malian worth knowing? What does that even mean? Most Malians are worth knowing of course, but I was looking for someone that could patch me in to the communauté Malienne in Mbour. Truth be told, I was on a covert mission to try and find future friends for Bintou. She would love to connect with the Malian expat community here, but she is not one to barge in. I, on the other hand, have no problem with that.

What did I find? Two Malians who were wholesaling hibiscus flowers, ginger, tamarind, and dried baobab fruit. These guys are certainly worth knowing. They are slinging four superfoods in bulk quantities. Sadly, they were themselves relatively recent arrivals and were not yet plugged into the Malian expat community in Mbour. They were familiar with such a community in Thies, a city that is a bit further away and one we have not yet explored.

The best ceebu jën I’ve ever had? Might seem like a high bar, but I am not a connoisseur. The best I’ve had was Aminata Traoré’s tchep in Mali. She catered parties and if you were willing to throw down for all of the ingredients, it was a truly decadent and incredibly delicious plate of tchep, complete with hibiscus leaf relish, tamarind sauce, and a mind blowing piment.

I put in considerable legwork in Mbour to try and find the best ceebu jën. Starting in the CNART office where I was renewing insurance for the jakarta, all signs pointed to a woman named Mariama. The three people in the office, one of them a random customer, all spoke about Mariama’s tchep in devotional terms.

I continued asking about ceebu jën when I was looking for a Malian(s). The answer was always the same. Mariama, Mariama, Mariama. The owner of a print shop drew a blank when I asked him for his recommendation. Then I said, “have you heard of this woman Mariama?” “Ahhhhh Mariama!!!! C’est vrai!!!! Ohhh Mariama” His eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

So Chez Mariama it was.

There is no sign and it is unmarked on Google Maps. But everyone knew the place. Eventually, I arrived at a billowing turquoise curtain. Chez Mariama.

On the menu: ceebu jën (literally rice with fish in Wolof). One thousand CFA for a plate. One dollar and sixty four cents as of this writing.

It was a modest plate.

A hunk of flaky fish stuffed with bright green rof (a blend of garlic, parsley, maggi), vegetables stewed in a savory broth, and perfectly cooked rice that had absorbed the broth and just enough oil to have maximum surface area for FLAVOR without being too greasy. It was a work of art.

A few missing condiments — the aforementioned hibiscus leaf relish and tamarind sauce — were the only shortcomings.

Was it the best I’ve ever had? No. I can’t honestly say that it was. But it was damn close. I think those extra condiments would have taken it there. Anyways, it doesn’t really matter whether it was the best ceebu jën I’ve ever had. It was delicious and it was a great experience, both dining there and finding it in the first place.

Meeting Mariama was another pleasure in itself. She looked to be in her 60’s and she couldn’t quite say for how many years she was churning out ceebu jën. Ten years? Twenty? More than that!! So said the other diners.

Chez Mariama is here by the way, in case you ever find yourself in Mbour. I would suggest getting there before 2PM as she typically sells out around that time. When I was there, metal basins were flying out of the door every few minutes. It seemed half the neighborhood was eating her ceebu.

A cowboy hat? I didn’t need a cowboy hat. I just wanted a third thing to look for and this was the first thing that popped into my head. Things come in threes. Good things come in threes. Omne trium perfectum. Father, son and holy spirit. Etc.

It turned out to be the most humorous mission of all and in all honesty warrants a separate post of its own. It was also a clear-cut success. If you follow me on instagram, you saw a story of me wearing a cowboy hat and eating ceebu jën. And you will be happy to know that there is now a coconut vendor in Mbour who also has a cowboy hat.

It was a great day. It didn’t matter what I was looking for or whether I found anything or not. It was the quest.

I look forward to the next one.