Jerejef Senegal!

Thank you Senegal! Or, in Wolof (the language spoken predominantly throughout Senegal): Jerejef Waay Senegal!

After just over a week in Senegal we have much to be thankful for...

-The terenga (hospitality) that was shown to us by our hosts, especially those who granted us meetings throughout the week at various NGOs and government organizations

-The chance to have learned so much about the history, culture, economy, politics, health, environment and gender issues in Senegal

-The opportunity to see some incredible parts of the country: Saint Louis, Thies, a bird sanctuary... and in Dakar the vibrant Marche Sandaga and beautiful beaches near Yoff and Ngor

-Good food, like Ceebu Jen (rice and fish) and Yassa Poulet (chicken in onion sauce), and drink, like bissap (made from hibiscus) and flag (the local beer!)

-New friends, both Senegalese and American

Many of us hope to return... so its not goodbye just "ba beneen yoon en challah" (see you soon god willing)!

The Road Trip Home

So it figures that pretty much everything went smoothly in Senegal and it was only in the U.S. that we had major travel issues.  

The Dakar airport was chaotic, with uncooperative Delta representatives, invasive security screenings, endless lines, stray cats meowing everywhere, and the standard airport hassles, but at least we got on the plane on time.  The flight to Atlanta was bumpy, but we were all too tired to care.  When we reached at Atlanta we realized why our descent was so rough-- there was a winter storm in the area.  

Well, at least a 'storm' by Atlanta standards.  The 'storm' was apparently going to be bad, so the airline cancelled most of its flights out, including our flight to Detroit.  After waiting in line for ages we finally found out that the next flight they could put us on was on Tuesday afternoon.  And this was on Sunday morning.  With all the work we had waiting for us, and how exhausted we were, we decided that we couldn't afford a 2 day sojourn in Atlanta.  After debating our options and weighing costs, our intrepid IEDP board did some fast work and rented us a mini-fleet of cars to drive back to Ann Arbor.  After a quick lunch we headed out to get the cars.  To our surprise, it was actually storming out.  In Michigan people may have referred to it as a flurry, but my Georgia standards it was the blizzard of the century.  The snow was starting to accumulate when we left, wet, heavy snow.  By then end of it, 3 or 4 inches had fallen in Atlanta, totally paralyzing the city.  

Even though we were all pretty tired, the 12 hour drive home was (at least for some of us) energizing and fun.  There were 3 or 4 of us to a car, usually with people we didn't get to see much of during our time in Senegal.  Some cars passed the time with sing-alongs, others by re-enacting classic moments from the trip, others by counting the number of giant cement crosses and/or firework shops along the highway.  

After Senegal, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio and Michigan seemed like foreign lands.  The Smokey Mountains were majestic, and the open plains of Ohio peaceful and calming, but not as beautiful as the gleaming white beaches of Dakar.  The neon lights of gas stations and fast food joints were a stark contrast to the cardboard signs of the stores and restaurants in Senegal.  The french fries and mini-pizzas we ate along the way were tasty, but not as delicious as roasted fresh fish and plantains.  Nonetheless, it was nice to be "in the heart of America" and ease back into our regular lives.  

Our fleet of cars rolled into Ann Arbor at various points between midnight and 3am, 12-15 hours after departing Atlanta, and a lifetime after leaving Senegal.   

Ile de Goree: Where French Colonialism meets Senegalese Culture

On our next-to-last day in Senegal our entire group took a 15 minute ferry ride to Ile de Goree, a small island just off the coast of Dakar. Goree Island is a big tourist attraction because of its history as a major slave-trading center, and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Maison des Esclaves (House of Slaves) on the island has become a place of pilgrimage for everyone to reflect upon the horrors of the slave-trade and remember the millions of souls who died because of it.

As the ferry approached the beautiful island, approximately one kilometer in diameter, the bright sun shown down on the remains of the colorful colonial houses and garrison, with its rusted cannons on the right side, and a hill with narrow, winding cobblestone streets on the left. Right next to the dock was gorgeous white sand beach covered in sparkly sea glass.

We spent the afternoon wandering around the island, exploring the cobblestone alleys around the House of Slaves, learning the history of the Senegalese slave trade, and climbing to the top of the hill for a gorgeous view of Dakar. The island housed the most incredible representation of Senegalese artwork, varying from the more typical stylistic Senegalese stick figure paintings to elaborate paintings and collage on fabric. What was most impressive about this artwork was that the artists were right there to engage you in explaining the meaning of each painting or carving. The island's colonial history of slavery served as a strong source of emotions to draw from, and many of the paintings were imbued with symbols of lost identity and African heritage.
After an incredible group dinner in one of the old colonial buildings, our group departed on the ferry to return to Dakar, where the shimmering lights made us ask ourselves why we were leaving to go home so soon.

Bad Car Karma in Dakar

Transportation in the developing world is notoriously unreliable.  A few flat tires and breakdowns are to be expected.  We were prepared for this.  We were not prepared for the particularly bad car karma we suffered in Dakar.  

To take us around to our meetings we had hired two 14-passenger vans from a travel company for the week.  We assumed that the vans came with licensed drivers and the permits required of commercial vehicles.  This was a mistake.  During the first few days we were pulled over by the police a couple times and discovered that our drivers (and/or van) lacked the proper license to drive in Dakar.  Apparently there is a license to drive between cities and another to drive within cities.  A 1,000 CFA ($2) bribe to the cop usually cleared up this problem and we would move along.  

Things got more serious as the week went on.  One day we came out of a meeting at USAID only to discover that our driver was gone.  Tracking him down took 30 minutes, during which time we sat baking in the sun, sweating in our dress suits.  The next day we got pulled over twice within a few blocks and both times our driver was charged with not having the proper license to transport tourists.  Slightly larger bribes took care of these problems, but were still rather annoying.       

During the last few days our drivers became more wary and tried to avoid main roads, where cops would see our white, foreign faces and instantly think of dollar (or in this case, CFA) signs.  Although sticking to side streets was a good idea in theory, it was flawed in practice.  Our drivers, who we already knew were more familiar with the roads around Dakar than in Dakar, ended up just getting themselves lost.  One driver was winding his way through a small neighborhood when he realized that he missed his turn.  Instead of doing a U-turn he simply stopped the car in the middle of the rather busy road, threw the van in reverse and hit the gas.  Unfortunately there was a taxi not 3 feet behind us.  We've been debating how to describe this accident.  Did our driver "rear-end himself"? Did he "front-end someone"?  Either way, it was pretty funny, but also unnerving, since we didn't know if the taxi driver was going to freak out, and, seeing our white, foreign faces, demand a lot of money in compensation.  Luckily the taxi driver just stepped out of his car, shouted a few key expletives at our driver, checked out the damage on his car, decided it was minimal and went his merry way.  Thank god we hit a banged-up taxi and not a brand new BMW. 

To cap off the day, on our way home we were waiting at a red light when the traffic cop in the intersection decided that he needed to check us out.  Instead of telling us to pull over he insisted that we remain parked in the middle of the intersection.  Now, driving on a busy street in the developing world is dangerous enough, but sitting in the middle of a chaotic intersection is just asking for trouble.  After 5 or 10 minutes of getting honked at we pulled over to the side of the road and the cop came over.  For an indeterminate reason the cop confiscated our driver's license and insisted that he drop us off and then come back to collect it (i.e. pay to get it back) later.  We never found up if he did, or if he just decided that, given all his tickets and accidents, driving was just not the profession for him.

There were of course the standard mechanical problems, with one van breaking down on consecutive days.  The second time, as it was parked on along the road, waiting to be fixed, it had a boot put on it by the police.  Tracking the officer down and getting it removed took longer than the actually fixing of the van.  

Given that we were only driving around Dakar for 4.5 days, it seems like we had a disproportionately large number of transportation-related incidents.  Maybe next time we should travel by motorcycle.  After all, nothing bad can happen with that, right?