Spit and Rinse

I learned some new words today.

Crache et rince.

Maybe you can tell that the second one is “rinse.” But, the first one most certainly does not mean crash, if you were guessing.

I went to the dentist today.

Such an odd experience, seeking medical treatment in a culture not your own.

I waited in a rather nice waiting room (granted, I would not have said that three years ago) and read on my Kindle while the TV blasted a mix of Arabic music, local TV shows in Wolof, and Indian soap operas. And then there was the lady next to me with a giant white boubou (local clothes), flicking through her prayer beads and then rubbing them in her face (that was a first).

And then they called my name. Well, they tried. Then they just grunted and pointed until I understood it was my turn. Can’t blame them. After all, how many Flintoffs live in this country? I’d venture to say we’re pretty special.

Then, I met the dentist and tried to explain my problem and how I ended up sitting in his office (I won’t bore you. It involves a crown and some dull, achy pain).

Language side-note. If I don’t know a word in French, I just say the English word “in a French way.” So, if it’s a verb, I add er, pronounced ay to the English word. Like, maybe I’d guess to run is runer (say, run-ay). I would be wrong, of course, but not a bad system when you’re stuck.

I learned spit and rinse from my context today. Mouth full of blood, crache. Clean it with some water, rince.

I’m still not 100% as to what’s going on, but I’m fairly certain I’m being treated for some sort of gingivitis. Much better prognosis than I expected. I thought I was going in for a root canal.


Let’s hope this dentist is right.