My last day in Senegal. I went to church in the morning and on my way home, I had an interesting exchange with the taxi driver. I flagged down the taxi, stated my destination and my price, to which he beckoned me to get in. However, as soon as we started driving, he began to ask for more money. I told him no, we’d already agreed on a price and we argued for a bit before he shut up, accepting my price – I assumed. But when we arrived, I paid him and as I was walking away, he jumped out of the taxi, ran after me, and grabbed onto my bag, pulling me back, and yelling at me in Wolof (demanding more money I guess). This stirred up quite a scene and not too long after, there was a crowd circling around us. One of the bystanders heard out my side of the story and then yelled something at the taxi driver, who responded by letting go of my bag and heading back to his car, realizing he was now outnumbered. A little rattled, I thanked my liberator and made my way up to the apartment. There, I was greeted by an awesome Ivorian meal that Franck had cooked up to celebrate. A combination of the stressful taxi driver situation, my hunger, and having part of my mind on my flight this evening, caused me to forget to take a picture or write down the names of the different parts of the meal. I will do my best to describe it though. There was fish, like always, but done in a special fashion, different from the Senegalese way. There was a really nice, tasty red sauce, consisting of a variation of chopped vegetables. And finally, there was the piece of the meal that's the hardest to explain. It was these little, white, cake-type things that were kind of like a rice muffin but they weren't rice... Whatever they were (I will ask Franck for clarification), they were very good with the sauce! After lunch, I took my last Dakarian shower and then finished packing my bags – which turned out to be a small challenge. Hopefully nothing gets bent, broken, or damaged during the flight. My plane was scheduled to take off at 22h40. We arrived at the airport around 20h10, which gave me enough time to check in my luggage and then go back outside to spend some precious last few minutes with Franck. Nobody cried, but it was very emotional nonetheless, saying goodbye to what has been my home for the past seven weeks – and more importantly, saying goodbye to my new, African brother. After promising to stay in contact regularly, I headed back into the airport to make my way through security and board the plane to Nice.
Today is Kourité, the day dedicated to celebrating the end of Ramadan. In the morning, I headed down the street to the bank, a little surprised that nothing seemed different in town. On my way, I had the awkward experience of being approached by a beggar child who, at that moment, actually had more money than I did (I was down to the equivalent of less than 50 cents). I was really excited to share this day with a Muslim family and observe how they celebrate after fasting for the past four weeks. It turned out to be a very bizarre day, nothing at all like I had expected. At first, we just sat around outside with the family, talking. However, when it came time to eat lunch, the four of us interns were segregated away from the family, in our own room, with our own food, and our own company. I have to admit though, the food was delicious. It was some of the best Yassa I’ve had, accompanied by some really good Bissap (a sweet, sugary drink made from hibiscus leaves and flowers). The rhetorical question was posed during our time away from the family, as we were still baffled by being segregated, “What would happen if a group of black people came to your home in North America or Europe, and you ushered them away from the rest of the family into their own room with their own, separate meal?” That would never fly where any of us were from. But, that’s how things are here. At one point during our weird, isolated afternoon, all of the Senegalese people around town got dressed up and the kids participated in “African Halloween,” walking through the town, stopping at houses and collecting small change. This was about the extent of the festivities that I witnessed today. I would assume though, that this day is just like any major holiday in any country: some families celebrate it more than others. And we happened to end up with a family that was more reserved in their celebrations.
A group of 21 of us interns (more or less all of us) arrived in Saint-Louis (a six hour drive north of Dakar) the day before. On this particular day, I woke up early to be ready to visit two of the local animal reserves in the morning (along with six other interns). Unfortunately, the Djoudj Bird Sanctuary (the third largest bird reserve in the world) was closed for the season, so we had to settle for two smaller reserves. The first one we visited was the Reserve de Guembeul, where we walked through the park, seeing giant turtles (and their not-so-giant babies), gazelles, oryx, and monkeys. The second stop was the Reserve de la Langue de Barbarie. There, we took a boat ride down the river, observing many different types of birds, like pelicans, and even some type of fish that jumped out of the water like dolphins. After lunch, we toured around the small island village of Saint-Louis itself. We saw the famous bridge connecting to the mainland, which was built in 1897 and rumoured to have been designed by Gustave Eiffel. We saw the governor's palace (an extravagant house with an enormous courtyard), a giant, ancient cathedral (the first ever church in West Africa), as well as a lot of other French-inspired architecture. The town is old (France’s first colony in West Africa), but beautiful. It's a shame that the vandalism and garbage detracts from the overall appearance. Our tour ended at the local crêperie, where I had two amazingly delicious crêpes! The first one was mango/chocolate and the second was apple/caramel. In a back room of the crêperie, there was a small library with some fascinating, ancient pieces of literature. Dylan found one book that was printed in 1803! Back at the hotel, sometime around 3am, the seven of us that were still up decided to head down to the beach. The first thing we noticed was just how dark it was, there’s no light pollution here! So we had a stunning view of the stars and constellations, with a spectacular view of the Milky Way. As we approached the water, someone switched on a flashlight, illuminating the thousands of crabs that lined the seashore! We decided to create our own version of Russian Roulette by running through the crabs for as long as we could, in the pitch black. We would then actually go into the ocean and play in the waves for a while. It was so cool because the ocean was filled with bioluminescent phytoplankton, so when you submerge yourself in the water and then stand up out of it, your body is covered with tiny little blue lights. You can also wave your hands under the water and they will all light up and glow. I’ve never seen anything like that before – a magnificent, natural display of these tiny ocean creatures!
I had the day to myself, free to do as I pleased, so I decided to head out into the city and check off a few more things from my “Dakar Bucket List.” Aside from two hills, locally known as “les mamelles,” the city of Dakar is very flat. On one of these hills is the Monument to the African Renaissance, the tallest statue in the world. And on the other is a lighthouse. I have already visited the monument, so today I thought I would check out the lighthouse. This turned out to be a fabulous decision. Although I had to climb the relatively steep hill on foot under the blazing African sun, the view from the top was worth it! Nowhere else can you find a 360° panorama of the city like this! After I had finished admiring the view, I descended the hill and then took a taxi downtown. My first stop was the Musée Théodore Monod, the most well-known African art museum in the country. The museum’s exhibits displayed works from all over Africa. Masks from Mali, jewelry from Gambia, weapons from Niger, and even the door to an ancient cult from the Ivory Coast. My next objective was to find the Canadian embassy. This actually took longer than it should have because Google Maps lied to me about its location. I ended up having to stop at a café to use their wifi in order to consult the Government of Canada website about the embassy’s location. Ironically, the café I stopped at was a Canadian franchise! It didn’t take long to find it after I had verified its actual location. I soaked in that little piece of home as I took a tour around the embassy. There wasn’t much to the place. It was small, simple, welcoming, and not nearly as extravagant as I imagined the American embassy would be. (This was later verified when I passed the US embassy on July 22.)
In the morning, I took the bus up to the terminal near Adrian’s house (an intern on my project from Romania) where I met Jakub and Marisa (both also on my project – from the Czech Republic and Switzerland, respectively). We walked together to Adrian’s house where went spent the morning planning modules for our session that was planned to start up next week. After the planning was finished, we headed to the beach for the afternoon. The beaches in Dakar are very nice. Some parts can be very dirty, but you can also find stretches that are clean and perfect for relaxing. Around 15h, Adrian’s host (Bashir) bought us a large bowl of Yassa Poisson, from which we all shared a delicious late lunch. During the meal, Bashir taught us the meaning of the word “djongama.” (This is a word in Wolof, the local language here which is actually only spoken in Senegal. French is the official language, although Wolof is learned in the household and French in school, so Wolof is spoken among friends and the less educated.) In English, the word signifies a “large woman.” It is actually considered a compliment to be called a “djongama” here as many men prefer their women hefty. Bashir also made the comical observation that he will often see a “djongama” with a very small man – exactly who is protecting who?
The heat makes it difficult to sleep, the fan isn’t doing much for me. I had lunch with Franck at a small restaurant close to our apartment. There, I finally ate my first truly African meal: Yassa Poisson (rice, onion sauce, fish). After lunch, I had planned to go buy my boat ticket for a trip down south to the Casamance. I was told that the ticket office was very close to the final stop of the number one bus. However, because of a poor assumption based on some other pieces of that conversation, I ended up at the wrong end of the bus route. This explained the funny looks and confusion I received from the locals when I asked where the ticket office was located. I decided to get back on the bus and take the almost two hour ride to the other end of the line. I then located the ticket office, but it had closed hours ago. By this point, I was frustrated and tired, but I knew I was close to the port, so I walked around for a while trying to find a beach to relax on or at least a nice view of the water. Nothing. I did manage to buy a mango, though, which was extremely delicious – there’s nothing like eating a fruit that was just recently picked.
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