Mama Siyaya's Snuff Box

Mama Siyaya's snuff box wasn't actually a box: it was a dirty plastic bottle that she kept underneath her left breast. She would remove it once an hour, gruffly lifting her dripping bosom and fishing out the bottle, unscrewing the lid and pouring a small brown pile into her palm. She would take a pinch and sniff it quickly into her left nostril, then right, then left again, like clock work or something equally efficient. The whole process took less than 2 minutes, but it stole my attention every time: everytime she lifted her breast, every time she took a pinch. Nothing about her demeanor changed afterwards and she would continue rocking her shoulders and humming a tune, stopping every so often to spit or burp. The last morning I was to be with her in her cow dung hut she asked if I was cicumcised. When I said no, she laughed and laughed.

In public, she kept her snuff hidden somewhere in the folds of her dress. Her left breast was too conspicuous.