We have one American intern within our group, so there was a tiny [read: large] amount of USA pride displayed today. The only problem for her was that she had to spend 16 hours of her Independence Day on a boat as we sailed down south to the Casamance. The boarding process was quite bizarre. They checked our tickets and passports at 6 or 7 different locations, one of which was just down a short hallway from the last (and in between the two, there were no exits for anyone to leave or enter). They also seemed to randomly check some people’s carry-ons, but not others. The boat ride was actually quite enjoyable and falling asleep was no problem at all as the boat rocked back and forth, putting me to sleep like a baby.
Happy Canada Day from Senegal! Unfortunately for me, aside from wearing a red and white shirt for the day, there wasn’t very much Canadian spirit here. It turned out to just be another normal day in Dakar. It was a little strange not being home for Canada Day, as my family (and on a larger scale, my hometown) has a longstanding tradition on this specific day, which I was forced to miss out on for the very first time.
Ramadan officially began today. So, for the next four weeks, 90% of the country will not eat or drink anything from about 5h until around 20h, feasting as soon as the sun goes down. I don’t understand this Muslim holiday very well, and I can’t believe it is very healthy for the body. Luckily for me, Franck is Catholic, so I don’t have to worry about anything changing at the apartment. You could also say I am unlucky because I won’t have the full, immersive experience into this countries grandest four week period. On the street, however, I have been told that it is rude to eat or drink in front of someone who is observing Ramadan. I completely understand this warning and the unnecessary temptation that would cause, so I’m going to have to be quite stealthy when I become hungry or thirsty during the day.
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?
We had a meeting at 13h today with our project manager, Khady, to discuss her ideas for the upcoming YES Project (Young Entrepreneurs of Senegal) session. Meetings here, especially with Khady, take a really long time and aren’t very productive. This one was no different. Afterwards, I headed down to the port to try, for the second time, to buy my boat ticket to the Casamance (the interns had planned to spend a week there – the boat ride is 15 hours, so you can’t really just go for the day). I literally arrived two minutes after the ticket office closed, which was frustrating. I wasn’t very tired, so I decided since I was already there, I may as well explore the area a little more. I was walking along one of the streets, when out of nowhere, a dirty, scraggly-looking man grabbed my arm and started mumbling something at me. I assumed he wanted money, so I tried to shake him away, but he held on. I eventually had to jerk my arm away from him and then speed up my pace to get away. Soon after, I was approached by another man who had witnessed the previous events. He told me not to worry about those type of people, just to push them away when they try to come near. I didn’t want to resort to physical violence, but I thanked him for his advice. We ended up talking for a while and he acted as my tour guide of the area as we walked along. It turned out he was baptising and naming his firstborn son the next day and he told me, according to his culture, it is customary to give gifts to other people throughout the town under these circumstances. So I ended up receiving three pieces of hand-made Senegalese jewelry from him. At the end of our conversation, he asked me for some money to buy a bag of rice for the celebration the next day. I gave him a small amount of cash, but he persisted in asking for more, saying I had given him next to nothing. I kept refusing, saying I couldn’t give him any more. Situations like these are difficult for me, and I’m not yet sure exactly how to handle them. On one hand, I want to thank them for their kindness and for taking the time to walk and talk. But on the other, I’m not here to give handouts. I will talk to my host about this and get his perspective.
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.
I arrived in Dakar around 21h. The first thing you notice when you step off the plane is the heat – it hits you like a wall, even at night. I had some trouble at customs because I hadn’t written down the address of the place I would be staying at. But, I told the customs officer that I would be spending my time working at the university and that seemed to be a sufficient amount of information. I was then ushered into a small room to receive the final copy of my VISA (I had pre-registered online beforehand), where I again encountered problems. Apparently there were two pieces of paper I was supposed to print off in Canada and bring with me, but I only had one. After a small discussion, the man decided that the one I had would be enough and he issued me my VISA. I then moved on to the baggage claim area where I proceeded to wait a stressfully long time to see my luggage on the conveyer belt. When I finally had everything together, I exited the airport and I was immediately spotted and called out to by the three members of AIESEC that were waiting there for me. One of them was Franck, a native of Cote d’Ivoire, who would be my host for the next seven weeks. We took a taxi back to his apartment where I began to unpack and acclimatize myself to the African way of living.
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