So today, I accompanied some of my friends in their service learning endeavors. Fatou, Loren, Lili, and Bomba have been teaching crafts, cooking, and group building at a local Catholic center for girls who have, for one reason or another, not completed high school and in some cases, primary school. Most of the girls speak little French and if they wanted help cutting tape, would just come up to me and push the tape and scissors into my hands. While I was helping one girl, I started with my “uh-huhhh” thing accompanied by a little dance and soon enough the three or so girls around me were grunting “uh-huhhh” and trying to get me to elaborate on my dance. Now I really can’t get this dumb ad out of my head. It has, against my will and sanity, been added to the soundtrack of my Senegalese life.
The Weekend Update will be done in pictures because our destination this past weekend, Toubab Dialaw, was just so very aesthetically pleasing that I wish to share it with all.
We postponed our travels until Saturday morning because Friday night was Tamkharit, the Islamic New Year. The holiday is (for non-observing observers) fairly uneventful, but every household prepares cous cous that is supposedly far superior to the cous cous one may eat on any other night. All religious implications aside, the holiday is known as a kid’s holiday, an Islamic Halloween of sorts. With some cross-dressing thrown in. Girls dress as boys and boys as girls and go door-to-door banging on water bottles and rattling cans and, in some cases, performing a special dance. In return, you give them money or rice. Or, in my case, they just bombard you without performing any of the nice rituals and demand money.
In the Cab on the Way to Toubab Dialaw: We (Kendall, Loren, Shannon and I) knew roughly what we had to do to reach Touab Dialaw, but as the case with so many ventures here: planning serves its purpose to a certain extent, but to get anything done or go anywhere requires a certain amount of faith. We were told to take a taxi to Paumpier, a station of sorts in Dakar, where we would find a sept place (seven-seated car) or car rapide (colorful scrap metal on wheels) to take us southwards. However, upon arriving at Paumpier, men were literally throwing themselves in front of our taxi, insisting that we use their respective transportation services. Feeling a bit like fresh meat thrown to ravenous pride of lions, we had some trouble keeping our cool and remembering what to do. We exercised our bargaining skills—or so we thought—and forwent the cheaper, but slower sept places and opted for a taxi directly to Toubab Dialaw for 13,000 CFA. Roughly 3,000 CFA each, not bad, eh? The taxi ride took an hour. (We would later learn that the ride should have cost us a collective 7,000 CFA).
Sobo Badè in all its Glory: Admittedly, Toubab Dialaw, as the name implies, is a bit of a Toubab haven. But, far from a Club Med or Meridian, the primary hotel, Sobo Badè, in this small fishing village operates in harmony with its surroundings. Sobo Badè—really more of an artist’s commune than hotel—was founded by a French sculptor/playwright named Gerard, or so the story goes. Lonely planet described it as ‘Tolkeinesque.’ I would say its more ‘Gaudi comes to Senegal.’ Every solid structure is tiled in shades of blue and shells and what is not tiled is living and vibrant—huge verdant fronds and oases of bougainvillea. Sobo Badè contains several buildings and each is truly a work of art.
Our Lovely Room: One can usually rent a dorm room of sorts with multiple beds for 5,000 CFA a night per person. However, such rooms were unavailable. We got a room with a double bed for 12,000 CFA a night and figured we would optimize the space. The room was all of 10’ by 10’ but contained a toilet (with a sit-able seat and toilet paper!) in one corner and a small (bucket) shower in the other. Loren, Kendall, and I spread out across the bed, our feet dangling above poor Shannon who took the floor.
Kendall and the Phosphorescent Mosquito Net: Ironically, though Kendall appears to be enjoying the mosquito net at the moment this picture was taken, she did not utilize it that night. Sunday morning she woke up with what amounted to upwards of eighty mosquito bites. There is a lesson to be learned from poor mosquito pocked Kendall.
The Girls en Vacances: I miss it already.
Shannon and Tam Tam: This sociable young man, Tam Tam, approached us on the beach at the start of our stay and, for the rest of the weekend, seemed to show up at wherever we were. We (and all toubab girls) possess a proclivity for making male friends with uncanny ease.
Some Scenery: A soccer game along the beach.
Shannon and Kendall at the beachside Creperie: We lunched at a creperie where a young French artist with beautiful eyes waited on us. We think he owns the place. Shannon and I did some heavy duty translating for Kendall and Lauren and we finally decided to all have galettes (thick crepes). While mine was just straight up chevre and eggs, the other girls chose galettes with some meat variation. However, an hour and no bread later, only my (tiny) galette found its way to the table. Shannon got one too, though it did not resemble what she had ordered. Our Frenchman explained, his soulful eyes looking a bit sad, that they had a new cook and had run out of meat. After much confusion about whether or not there was any meat and whether or not we would have to pay for our food, Loren said she would take whatever they could make, while Kendall declined, not wanting to risk her money on a paltry meal. However, our Frenchman charged us only for drinks.
Kendall and the Ocean:
Sobo Badè from the Beach:
Sunset:
The Crazy Puppy: Determined to fend off a lingering cold, Kendall napped for more than a few hours late Saturday afternoon. Shannon, Loren and I were getting a bit hungry so we decided to rouse Kendall. I went to the room first, woke up Kendall, and the two of us ended up waiting for Loren and Shannon for quite some time. Apparently they had decided it would be really funny to have the resident adorable but rambunctious puppy wake Kendall up. As Shannon was scooping the puppy up, it grabbed her necklace between its sharp little teeth and pulled it to pieces. While Shannon and Loren were desperately plucking the necklace’s loose beads from the sand, the puppy took off with Shannon’s wallet. And quite the chase ensued. Unfortunately, neither Kendall nor I witnessed these events. Though Shannon did eventually successfully kidnap the puppy and brought it onto our roof with us….
Breakfast by the Beach: At the start of the weekend, we had big plans. We wanted to visit a local game reserve, maybe take a batik class offered by the hotel…but after dinner on Saturday night, we weren’t sure if we had enough money to get home. We passed up breakfast at the hotel and went on a search for some cheaper eats, preferably baguette and Chocoleca (cheap Senegalese chocolate and peanut butter spread), a combo that I’m not sure I will be able to ever go without. As we wandered down the beach, a man called out to us. We rolled our eyes and quickened our step, but he then uttered some words that caught our attention: voulez-vous le petit dejeuner? A French woman with the wildest hair and her Senegalese husband? fiancée? lover? welcomed us onto a tiled patio and served us baguette with butter and the most incredible mango jam ever, bananas, oranges, pamplemousses (grapefruits…the word is too good to resist), tea, and coffee. Twas truly divine. The man was a baayfaal, a follower of this intriguing Rasta-Islamic religion that I hope to learn more about, and served us some of the special spiced baayfaal coffee which, though most likely composed of Nescafe with pepper, is really good.
Some More Scenery: Women doing laundry on the beach.
Lounging in the Hammocks:
Weekends are Always too Short: And so we hit the road….
Hitch Hiking: As we did not have any money, we decided to hitch hike home…
Just kidding, Mom. We actually took a sept place. But we didn’t know where to pick up the sept place or what to look for. So we did some wandering before three sept places showed up all at once and nearly ran us over in their enthusiasm to pick up the toubabs. The sept place took us to the village of Rufisque for 300 CFA and from there we took a cab directly to Yoff for 4,000 CFA. Total cost: 4,300 CFA. We’re learning.
Senegal can be very err…. cozy? intimate? Personal space is not a familiar concept. When you travel on public transportation, you usually find your body in contact with more people than you ever imagined the surface area of your body capable of contacting. If that makes any sense. In the sept place on the way to Rufisque, I rode shotgun, carrying on a pathetic conversation with the driver—we covered a lot of ground: salsa versus afro pop, the chemistry of milk: how yogurt and cheese are made, speed bumps, pot holes, driving laws in Senegal: are there any, my marital status, why not all toubabs are rich…. my French was stretched to its outermost limits—and I thus did not witness anything that happened in the back nor was I fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of any of the amiable men who joined us for various legs of our journey.
The following three pictures are some my favorite pictures, ever:
Loren and Fellow Passenger: Loren was instantly at ease with this man. He liked her too.
And Shannon:
Doesn’t Shannon Look Super-Imposed?
The End.
