Dakar

Everything is in bags!

Bag of milk, sugar, yogurt, oil, juice, spices, water!

Take your pick!

Bags bags bags bags! Plastic bags!

We saw a camel coming home from a night out with friends recently. Sleeping on the corner next to the furniture and taxis.

Made a tourist journey to the city of Touba with a big group of Toubabs.  It’s considered almost as important as a pilgrimage to Mecca for members of the Mouride Brotherhood.  Seeing more of this country, more of its people, more of its roots.   It was latin/Cuban music for most of the ride home.  

It was another trip, another time in between—you don’t fully quit a place until you arrive at your next destination.  It was good to have some stolen moments, even if they were in a sort of no-man’s land.

Less than a month to go. !

Two weeks ago was our Spring Break. The 5 of us girls from Beloit decided to venture to a small town in the far SE corner of Senegal, Kédougou, and from there also visit the village of Dindefelo. We had heard lovely tales of the National Park, Nikolo Kouba, and the waterfall at Dindefelo baited our interest. In true Senegalese fashion we finalized the details a few days before leaving and headed off. Here is a brief crunch of the week, with a couple of anecdotes thrown in at the end. It was a great trip, but I think even more pivotal has been the return and realizing how much we’ve learned not only about Senegal, but also about the homes we’ve found in Dakar.

Transportation:
Bus. LONG. BUS. RIDES.
Took the bus from outskirts of Dakar toward the SE corner, passing through Fatick, Kaolack, Tambacounda and many other smaller towns and villages. Not counting the hours we waited at the terminals before leaving, the journey was over 12 hours each way. The way down we left ~11pm, and interestingly none of us ever got off the bus (there were no toilets on it either). I don’t know if I’ve ever so successfully escaped awkward traveling bathrooms before.
The bus down was not super crowded, and was really nice. Watched some weird movies when we were awake, but mostly uneventful and really smooth (A BLESSING we were soon to find out).
The return journey was a little more exciting. We got to the garage at 7am, didn’t pull out until just before 11am. After stopping to get treats and drinks and have smokes and visit with everyone and their grandma at just about every town between Kédougou and Dakar, we finally pulled into the outskirts of Dakar just before midnight. This bus was packed the whole way down, and we had some interesting company. I was trying real hard to keep a positive, patient attitude; but the fact that we downed several litres of beverages between us and only peed once testifies to our extremely sweaty, stifled ride. We lost our appetites somewhere in the heat and ended up mostly staying on this bus (except for one venture to buy a couple litres of Bissap juice and a couple litres of Baobab juice. One of the more beautiful moments of the journey).
Traveling between Kédougou and Dindefelo we took a “Sept-place” (7 place), which is an old school station wagon (little red button on the dash for the horn?!). This trip took about an hour, and it was really fun to pass through the country-side in a more intimate way. Felt like an adventure as soon as we set off; wind and red dirt and Senegalese mbalax music blaring.

Lodging:
Kédougou was a decent sized town with a really neat market. As it is on the border of both Mali and Guinea the population speaks mostly Peuhl, and fruits are imported in their respective seasons. When we arrived previous guests had decided to overstay their reservation, so we took up at a connected Campament (compound of what are called Cases, or huts) across the street: traditional round homes with thatched roofs. Though we didn’t go inside any cases in the village, I think ours were a little different. In Dindefelo we also stayed in a campament and this was more traditional—no fans or bathrooms in the Cases/huts, and only one had a working light. In both places we shared rooms (double and a triple), and we have some pretty fun memories from a few of those hot—almost delirious nights. The last night of break (before returning to DK) we stayed in the original Campament in Kédougou, which felt really luxurious—working lights and sinks and toilets along with mosquito nets and fans.

People:
We had many wonderful encounters (along with the occasional strange or uncomfortable one). One of our main hosts in Kédougou, Aruna, was super kind and welcoming, around our age he spoke Peuhl, Wolof, French, Spanish and I’m not sure what else. He really made our stay in Kédougou fun. He met us accidentally on the road and helped us find our way to the Campament the first day we were there.
Our guide through the national park was a cousin of Aruna, and our chauffeur was an older French man—-craaaazzzyy old dude who was wonderful. Turns out he lives on a platform in a tree somewhere near Kédougou because the village was too bustling for him. He treated us to a groovy mix of African music on the drive, and ingested a litre of cold coffee or so along with his frequent cigarettes. His dancing was fun to watch from the benches in the back of the “kat-kat” (quatre-quatre= 4x4, all-wheel-drive cruiser that we took out for the day).
The people of these smaller towns/villages were really welcoming despite our language barriers. Daily life in these regions is much quieter than in Dakar, and a lot of the social elitism that is present in dress and manner in DK was much less so here. There was a really cool market in Kédougou that we explored a little, and it was nice not to be hassled by venders as we are in Dakar.

Anecdote (Two)! :
Departing for the trip we met up at the Baobab Center so that Pap Samba could take us to the terminus out near the suburbs of the city. Turned out that the area right near the terminus was flooding, so there was just a river of sewage water taking out a lane of the road. Samba stopped the taxi pretty abruptly—apparently he felt that location was just right?—and we all tumbled out of the taxis with our backpacks and little bags, caught now between a river of sewage before us and the traffic with/behind us. Samba just took off on some make-shift stepping stones, but after trying the first step or two in my flip-flops I knew I couldn’t balance all the weight and the steps with my bags on. Feeling pushed by the cars from behind and anxious to get out, I just gritted my teeth and walked in the gray, greasy, smelly water. Hahahahahahhahaha, I think almost all of the other girls did the same, and we hit the other shore to some raucous laughter. Our shoes did dry pretty quickly in the next few hours we spent sitting in a small office space, but it was a pretty pleasant beginning. :D

The night we stayed in Dindefelo, I asked if there were any women who worked at the Campament (we had seen none, but knew men don’t usually cook etc.). The guys enthusiastically told us to follow them, and we spent the next hour or two sitting outside with the guys who ran the place and the young women who cooked. They made us attaaya, and we listened to American pop-music on someone’s cell-phone. It was a lovely moment, and an intersection of people and places. Cooking by flashlight under peaceful stars and sharing a culture with young people in a village in southern Senegal. Wouldn’t have thought it, and wouldn’t trade it.

I’ve since been on another rural visit, had another American student move in with my family and there is a new President of Senegal! I’m going to make the next blog posts a little bit more focused—either more reflective of personal experiences or about some kind of academic thoughts (food culture, naming)—so hopefully they will be a little shorter!
Ba ci kanam, y’all!

ROARING airplanes=/= apocalypse

headphones while walking

Inside smoking.

babies dance, old ladies dance, young men DANCE

rollerbladers!!!!

trash thrown out the window, on the floor.

sarong= skirt, towel, laundry sack, table cloth

Your name is your fullest greeting, the affirmation of who you are. 

dressy dress, dressy dress, dressy dress

Again, beautiful people.

buying the food when we need it, not before

handshakes, repetition.

Music for elections, music for prayers, music for cooking, music for walking

If you and I are tied, what’s your is mine. (Claim it, claim us.)

After noon, it’s evening. 

football (soccer) in the sand and WORKOUTS on the beach

(I don’t know if I’ll ever be afraid of fishbones again)

A fierce sun even with the blanket of smog. 

Waxale= bargaining= street smarts (=hard)

So much to learn, time just strollin’ on by. With the potholes and the loose gravel and the uneven ground, you should walk slowly. Think carefully about where you land your weight. Time to be as you walk. mmmmm ndank, ndank! 

Warning: this post is now over a week old, all dates are respectively incorrect…

Not to be forgotten: last Saturday was Amayel’s reception! It was a big too-doo, with hundreds (?) of people joining us at an outdoor club-type venue.  Music, food, and then a parade of photos with the bride, gifts etc.  Each table had the opportunity to go up for photo/video with the bride. ((This aspect of the wedding (the evening) was pretty similar to American receptions. I missed a lot of food prep, exchange of money, and family/matriarchal discourses during the day apparently :/.))

I have never seen people so well dressed.   

I felt awkward: under-dressed, unprepared for the customs and traditions. Aware of how little I know my family in the grand scheme; the fact that I am a visitor, and while I am closest to Amayel of my sisters—I am still just a student from America living with them.  In the context of her wedding, I realized that I expected to be brought along and given a seat with the family etc, because I had no other way of entering into the experience (they are my portal).  It’s strange though to have this kind of reason to be a part of others’ lives—recognizing the assumptions/weight I am putting on this relationship.  I’m hoping that as we build relationships it will be more comfortable to be with the family through whatever kinds of moments they we end up living together. It was a beautiful gift to be a part of this wedding!

Meanwhile, elections are rolling.  The campaigning has begun in earnest (beginning of Feb. it started).  Instead of ads (I think those are banned on TV?), there are these trucks that drive around with crews supporting respective candidates.  They blast music all day long and invite passersby to join in the ‘frollicking;’ I’ll take that over nasty ads any day!

MORE RECENT: Elections were yesterday (2/26) and as far as I can tell (a shaky understanding), the incumbent Abdoulaye Wade won by less than ten percent, so there is likely going to be a revote between him (31.91%) and the second Macky Sall (25.89%) around March 18^th? Things seem pretty calm thus far, but it remains to be seen if other sentiments are brewing.  The news was kind of hard to watch yesterday because the results are announced voting location by voting location; I lost track of the tallies (Wolof„ French garblygook) far too early on, and ever since have just been asking questions when I can.  In many ways this election is being regarded as an indicator of politics/democracy in West Africa, so there are likely some interesting commentaries on the web for those of you with more regular access. It’s a really important time, a professor who gave a short discussion/lecture on Friday at the Baobab Center said he believes that the all-powerful influence of the Confreries (Islamic Brotherhoods and their Marabout leaders) came to an end two weeks ago.  It’s looking like this election could mark a really transitional time for Senegal.

 Our courses are in full swing.  I’m going to borrow a tactic of Angeline’s for this and write just a sentence about each one. (If you know her, you SHOULD check out her blog—it’s hilarious and more consistent than mine.)

History of Islam: Babacar is a lively professor, and Islam is sociologically and otherwise fascinating. Look forward to this three times a week.

Gender Politics and Culture (Senegalese Literature course): Hard to concentrate at times, but the cultural wisdom we are learning is a helpful framework for everyday life.  Beautiful language/literature.

Peuples and Cultures: This one is a bit hodge-podge (like the content), but again, giving us the capacity to understand more of what it means to have roots, African roots.

Dakar in Transition: Ibou pulls tricks out of his sleeve all the time, but this course is underlining the ingredients that have helped shape the whirring Dakar of today.  Lots to contemplate (language, culture, colonization, geography etc.)

Wolof: Ismaela is the greatest, “by jove!” (Am naa laaj, “vodka ak kafe touba, ban moo gëna neex?!” Hahahahahah, not a class goes by without laughs and smiles-even if the Wolof is confusing.)

Otherwise, have made some Senegalese friends and starting to pass time with them.  Feels really good to have meaty discussions about polygamy and souls and modernity with people my age.  Everything is still so new, and still feeling like a child when I want/need to buy things.  But ndank ndank, everything is just step by step. Hopefully this time of transition will be smooth or at least peaceful (Inchallah.) 

Getting lots of good rest, hanging out with the Beloit girls is a joy….eating delicious food (Food blog post STILL coming, I swear)……yeah, daily life is just strolling along on Dakar time.  Learning and making mistakes, and trying to keep my wits about me and my eyes/ears open.  It’s already hard to think about the ways of life I’m going to miss when I leave!

For now, as they say here: chow, chow.

Nearly been a month in Dakar?! Woops.  I seem to have an aversion to writing updates; I don’t know how to filter or articulate the things that occur to me in the quotidienne particulars. I’m trying not to just list things for every blog post.

 Wedding!

Of the ten or so people who live in my house, my host sister Amayel is the one I’m closest to.  She got married last Thursday!  It was nothing like I imagined. J In fact, the groom was/is still out of country—and I don’t know when they will see each other again.  He is a footballer in China apparently. 

From what I have gathered, the ceremony performed last Thursday was the official/legal sort of transaction between the two families and the Imam.  In Senegalese culture, a wedding is traditionally not so much about the couple, but rather about the joining of two families/communities.  In this way, I think the wedding was pretty traditional.  Some of the groom’s family spent the day at the house, eating a typical dinner with us.  Most of the adults were wearing fancier dress (typical dress is always nice), but the younger girls and even my host mother, were wearing normal clothing.  There is a reception on the 11^th, which I am invited to—I’m really excited to go out dancing with everyone! It sounds like it’s going to be mostly friends and then family for more of a communal celebration.  Amayel said she doesn’t want ‘beaucoup de monde’ there—so I’m not sure how much of an affair it will be, but I’ll probably post about it J. 

 Manifestations: “no ko bokk”

Some of you may have caught a glimpse of news about the politics in Dakar because the situation has intensified as the presidential elections arrive (Feb. 26).  Last weekend the Conseil Constitutionel ruled that the current president can constitutionally run for a third term, while several other candidates (like Youssou N’dour) were deemed illegitimate.  While the president was enthusiastically voted into office, that was some 12 yrs ago, and he is now 86.

Some of our classes have been canceled due to “manifestations” in a couple quarters of the city.  Thus far, any activity beyond striking (pretty common, especially in education) has been contained to a few areas—and in the afternoon.  There were two deaths recently as a part of the demonstrating, one of which was a respected student and teacher.  This occurred on the 31^st of January, which is also the anniversary of a different student’s death that is celebrated annually at the University.  So, as is the way, the situation is complex.  One of the Marabouts (religious leaders) made a plea for manifestations to come to a halt until after the elections (? after something, I could be wrong about it being elections).  I heard that he also called for the current president to withdraw from the elections.  If this is true, and if any other Marabouts add similar pleas, their influence is great enough that the President will have no choice but to withdraw if he wishes to maintain any public support.  It’s an uncertain time, but also an important one.  I feel safe as the Center is keeping us well informed, and it is a privilege to be here at an important moment like this. 

I have great respect for the Senegalese tradition of being politically involved; “no ko book” is the response when someone says “thank you,”—it translates literally to, “we share it.”  When I was talking to my friend at the Superette, I expressed a bit of concern/uncertainty about the manifestations.  His response was pretty simple and along the lines of, “This is democracy, if people are unhappy, then they have to show/express it.” I’m looking forward to watching how the people act in this time given the global, political environment.

Wolfranglais!!

LANGUAGES. HAUGHHHX

I’ve just slowly been realizing that I’m intentionally engaging and learning two languages everyday.  I have workable French; it’s also extremely flawed.  Since we’ve finally had all of our classes this week, I’ve been exposed to much more French (the friendly, familiar academic kind hahahahaha), and the last two days I’ve been feeling the French come easier. 

Which is great. 

Buuuut, it’s become frustrating the last few days when a question is posed in Wolof and my mind can’t move beyond the French response. And so then, today when Angeline and I were greeting one of our friends (an unofficial ‘professor’ of Wolof J), he had some phrases for us.  He tossed a new-new one out there, and as he looked at us for comprehension, I instinctively blurted out the rough equivalent in English.  I felt pretty foolish as he looked at me with now a genuinely confused face.  Haaaaaaaaaa MAN.  We’re just trying to communicate, right?

At the same time, it’s upsetting (British sense) when my host brother Lamine greets me in English (he has lived in the States).  My mind rotates between the three languages at the Center—but at home it’s mostly French, and then some intense, but not truly focused (yet), listening to Wolof.  Speaking English at home is uncomfortable, and it feels more limiting to speak in English. Perhaps that’s because I must think in other languages at home.  It’s like an illegal break (to my now totally boggled mind).   Also, Wolof was not originally a written language, so there are different ways to transcribe it.  ie: “ceebu jënn” = “Thiebou Djienne”

And the cherry?  Yesterday, I was telling Angeline about how “I was trying to saying something in Nepali….” Hahahahahahahaa (no, I wasn’t, but I said that I was). The subconscious levels my mind was working on to pull that one up…what’s that, seven years past now?

“Randomly Important Words”:

We have a variety of sweet dinners on Sundays—always lait caillé, TONS of sugar (in everything), and sweet n condensed milk + millet, rice, or a relative. DELISH.

We go home for lunch everyday, it’s the main meal of the day.

Senegal has a population of ~13 million.  Dakar and surrounding suburbs are +3 milllion of that.

Tey, dinaa jënd ndox.

Toilet paper is overrated.

Breakfast is underrated.  

Here’s a quick list of ten things I want to note:

1. There is a man behind the blue/green sheet in that picture of the roof. He’s smoking a cigarette. 

2. I forgot to say, but Mangi fii rekk literally means, “I am here only.”  It is a part of the routine greeting/dialogue. 

3. First bout of sickness last night/today. Hahahahah. Accidentally drank a handful of water the other day…? I’m also taking several pills/medicines. Feeling better already. 

4. Friday afternoon is like Sunday morning in the US. 

5. Started Wolof lessons, will be practicing and reviewing as we build from here on out. The language is built simply, but the sounds are really foreign. To ask, “Do you speak Wolof well?” It is, “Dégg nga Wolof bu baax?” The x is the Arabic hhhggcchh sound. :)

6. Everyday for breakfast we eat part of or all of a baguette with tea or coffee. It’s interesting the various ways French influence has stuck (or not) in this culture. 

7. Typically the Senegalese do not drink while eating—just after. (I have had to be really intentional about getting enough water in general). 

8. People go to the boutique many times a day to buy little packets of whatever they need. They bring the exact amount of change for a couple ounces of butter or a handful of sugar. Al Hassane said it’s a mark of how little money people have that they can’t buy things in any large quantity. The boutiques are really social place then, and families become loyal to one boutique, running a tab often. Later they might leave a large sum with the shopkeeper and it ends up working almost like a bank with loans and exchanges taking place on both sides. Boutiques on every street corner. Part of the noo ko bokk “we share it” mentality. 

9. We are going to Gorée Island tomorrow, it has a museum about the slave trade as well as some touristy beaches. The museum is famous for marking the trans-Alantic slave trade, but also is indicative about the colonial fight for Dakar and Senegalese territory. I am really looking forward to learning more about such an important subject. 

10. “Baax na” means ‘it’s good’ or “d’accord” which is like, ok/fine. We use this all the time. :)