(The girl (let's call her Patty) is on the phone, and the guy (let's call him Carl) just pulled out his laptop and is singing to himself. It's turning out to be a great date. Looks like I won't be able to watch True Blood without headphones as I had planned. Carl, re the menu, in English: "I'm just looking for something special for me, and I can't find it.")
Moving on:
(Can't move on, because Patty just ordered a hot iced tea. The owner is confused. She is insistent.)
Last Friday was Korite, Senegalese version of Eid al-Fitr, the end of Ramadan. I made the bold decision to travel to the beach town of Popenguine on the night before Korite. Those of you who have studied a map of Senegal know that Dakar is on a peninsula, so that all traffic in and out of the city is quite literally becomes trapped in a bottleneck (in fact, after driving out of Dakar, I can now tell you the secrets of ships in bottles). Moreover, all traffic going either north or south along the coast has to take the same route for several dozen kilometers. On a normal day, this means that there is no such thing as rush hour, only rush all the time.
(Patty and Carl are now watching Beyonce Live in Vegas. Carl is singing along. They appear to be completely unaware that this is a public space.)
Anyway, on the night before Korite, when everyone is leaving the city to visit family, the normal traffic becomes what could conservatively be called a nightmare. I shared a taxi with someone who paid one third of what I did to go farther, and the driver decided that it would probably be faster to leave Dakar via backroads than via the highway. Thus, getting out of Dakar, a journey that usually takes twenty minutes, took two hours. For those full two hours, I had literally no idea where we were, as the only landmarks were people's backyards, several cows, and the washed out roads from the previous night's rain. Not convinced that it was faster than the highway. However, I did get to break the fast with my driver and fellow passenger, which was actually quite nice. Our ceremonial pre-Korite dinner consisted of bananas, bread, and cafe Touba, which is a spicy coffee made with pepper, maybe. Two hours and several kilometers later, seeing that we probably weren't going to move for at least 20 minutes, my driver got out of the car to smoke a cigarette. I guess he wasn't satisfied with all the diesel fumes from the many many minibuses and trucks that threatened to crush our little taxi at any minute.
(Patty and Carl have now moved on to the Black Eyed Peas. Screw it, I'm watching True Blood without headphones. Carl just gave Patty a foot massage. Still a public space.)
In the end, it took 5 hours instead of the usual 2.5 to get to Popenguine, which is at most 35 miles from Dakar, but it was pretty much worth it because that far out of the city the sky is clear enough to see the Milky Way. Coming back to Dakar on Sunday, from the Sine-Saloum delta further south near the border with the Gambia, took 6 hours. Events of the trip back include a lunch of canned peas and approximately 20 mosquito bites. Upon arrival in Dakar, the car broke down. Despite my fear of flying, and my greater fear of flying on Air Burkina, I'm quite looking forward to non-car travel tomorrow.
Signing off now, as Time apparently does not believe in anything other than mood lighting, and my headache is not being helped by the Senegalese rap videos that Patty and Carl are currently showing me. Next time (maybe) from halfway across West Africa, i.e. the distance from Philadelphia to Chicago. Africa is big!
No comments:
Post a Comment