N'Gor Island

Today, I was able to sleep in for a little bit more, as my dad had gone off on a walk. I slept for one hour more than usual, which was definitely a nice change of pace. Today at 3:00, we were supposed to meet Babakar, and last night was to be my last here with my dad at the bed and breakfast. Since we had limited time, we decided to go to N'Gor Island. It's a small island in the N'Gor neighborhood, accessible by pirogue. We set out, walking on the beach. Since it is Friday, the holy day for Muslims, the beach was crowded and more active than the previous times we had gone. The beach had everything, kids playing soccer and fishmongers, goats and stray dogs, horse-drawn carts and pirogues, fish heads and chicken legs, sea-shells and garbage. As is usually the case with Dakar, the mix of stimulants was overwhelming, almost dizzying. The amazing smell of frying food would grip you, but three steps later the stench of a stagnant sewer would leave you stunned and disgusted. The beach close to where we live is, as I've said before, relatively clean and orderly. One could almost mistake it for a western beach (almost is a relative term), were it not for the goat herds who patrolled the beaches, angrily yelling at anyone who got too close. However, as we walked closer to N'Gor, we entered a fishing village and the beach was overtaken by the chaotic nature of the streets of Dakar. We walked on, only to be stopped by a line of large rocks. 

A man and his son dragging a goat into the ocean. They will wash the goat in the water

The traditional Senegalese pirogues one finds everywhere

Goats scavenging for food next to a pirogue

Sea shells littered the beach

We went more inland, passing through a poorer area of Yoff. We stopped to ask someone if they knew how to make cellular data work on the phone Isabella had lent us. We were unable to make the phone work, which is a problem since, especially when I'll be alone, I won't be contactable. We took a taxi to N'Gor since it was farther than we thought, and time was limited. We arrived, hopped into a traditional pirogue, and after a very short trip, arrived at N'Gor Island. The island was very nice, a nice break from the chaos of mainland Dakar. A very small island, one is never more than five minutes away from the beach. I went swimming, and the water was clean and warm but refreshing. We walked around the island and finally stopped for lunch.

The Atlantic Ocean

My dad with his (ridiculously overpriced) hat

A dog, sleeping in the shade

After lunch, it was already 2:30, so we rushed onto a pirogue and went back to mainland Dakar. There, we hopped into a taxi and went hope. We arrived home at 3:15. We called Babacar, but he didn't answer. I decided to shower (the water has been out the past few days, so I used buckets). I find myself writing now at 5:00, with Babacar nowhere to be found. I don't know if I'll be sleeping at the home of my host family today.

Update:
Babacar came at 6:30, and we walked with him to the host family. He clearly had not found a host family, and so he arranged everything on the spot, in a rushed and incomprehensible Wolof. The family I will be staying with starting tomorrow morning seems to be very welcoming and nice. They seem to be very religious, but not so as to make my life hard. They have three sons, two of which will be my age. They seem to be quite rich, with a nice house. We only saw the courtyard and the living room, but what we saw seemed promising. Tomorrow, I move in. 

Gorée

Whereas yesterday I was enthusiastic and relieved, today, as I write, I find myself frustrated, angry, and quite impotent. Sometimes, I can look past the fact that this is a third world country, one with gaping problems everywhere one turns. But as I lie here in my oppressively humid room, after using a bucket full of water to clean myself, I am reminded that I am very much a stranger in a strange land. I sound angry, frustrated, annoyed, and that is because I very much am. However, this sour turn in my feelings has taken place in the past half hour. So as I write I must try to tell things as they are, and not cast my dark, moody light on everything. I am in a bad mood right now, but all in all, today was a very good day.

A map of the island

We woke up at 8:00, took our Malaria pills, I showered, we got dressed, and we headed downstairs, where we had our usual baguette with jam. After our breakfast, we found a taxi and headed towards the ferry. After being cheated out of 500 CFA, we got our ticket for the ferry to Gorée Island. We had a pleasant ferry ride. We chatted with one of the locals, who told us to come to her stand when we arrived. A main theme of this whole trip to the island, and to Dakar in general, is that one constantly gets the (largely accurate) idea that they are constantly being cheated. 

Our ferry shortly after we arrived

The beach near the wharf

When we arrived, we walked towards the higher part of the island (the south side), where we found WWII era guns. We were also pulled into the studio of a Senegalese sand artist. He makes images with glue, and then sprinkles on multicolored glue (supposedly from different deserts and beaches all over the area), so as to create sand art. He was very nice, a rare trait on this island. The view of Dakar was amazing, and there was a very pleasant sea breeze. 

Path to the top of the island

A Cordia sebestena

Religious murals

A view of the island from the top of the hill

This cannon was enormous and falling apart

He made this in front of us, using sand and baobab glue

The island had a large number of baobabs, and so seedlings were on sale all over the island

A view of the ocean

We descended, stopping occasionally at stores to see the things. The weather was lovely, and the people were very aware that we were rich American tourists, so we were frequently stopped. The people were less polite here, so getting away was more of a challenge. We saw more of the island, and then headed towards the castle. 

The houses were very colourful, colonial style.

A cliff by the mosque

We finally arrived at the castle, where we visited the museum. It was interesting, although tAfhe signs were very outdated. After an amazing lunch, we headed towards the slave house, where slaves were kept before their transatlantic journey. It was very interesting and very thought-provoking.

The castle

A path inside the slave house leading to the sea.

After visiting the slave house, we left the island. We walked around Dakar for a bit and ultimately took the bus home. We had a terrible dinner at a terrible restaurant. 

Today was a good day with a bad end. I'm very tired. Tomorrow, I meet my host family.

A Changed Outlook

Yesterday, I was more than ready to give up on Senegal. I was terrified for my health, both physical and mental. I was horrified at the idea of spending another day in Senegal, let alone three weeks (with two of those completely alone). My dad and I went to sleep very disturbed. 

And then we woke up. Just the light of day was enough to make us feel infinitely better, and I found myself excited to explore this bizarre, other-worldly place. After a very meager breakfast, my dad and I headed to the nearby beach. 

Gate to the beach

The ocean was calm and even welcoming, the sand fine and very peaceful. The beach was clean, relatively empty, and teeming with large crabs that would hide in holes every time one walked towards them. Along the beach, men traveled on horse-drawn carts, cleaning fish and selling it to locals. We encountered various people exercising or playing soccer, but we didn't talk to anyone. 

The straw roofs served as sort of umbrellas to shield from the sun

The sand was clean, and not too hot or rough. 

The beach was far from crowded

There were lots of these stands

There was a dog on the beach.

The Atlantic Ocean

"Sport and sex is forbidden"

A dead pufferfish

We reached our first step of the day, the mausoleum of Seydina Mouhammadou Limamou Laye, the founder of the Layene sect of Sufi Islam. Laye founded this sect in 1884, claiming to be the reincarnation of the prophet Muhammad. Obviously, claiming to be the reincarnation of the founder of the second-largest religion in the world is not without its controversies, and Layeneians are considered to be heretical. We tried to enter, but it was closed. We were told that someone would open the door in 30 minutes, so we waited, but it was in vain, as no one came. We'll come back later another time, probably with my host family.

The graveyard next to the mausoleum

The mausoleum sits by the beach

The mausoleum from farther away

A hut by the beach, next to the mausoleum. The stink of rotten fish is overwhelming.

Upon giving up on the mausoleum, we took a taxi to Place Du Souvenir, where we found a square filled with pictures of famous black figures. I was very excited to see American revolutionaries such as Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr, and I was also very happy to see Obama. It was a nice monument to great black heroes, one that I think is very important to a continent suffering from huge identity problems. After colonialism, without foreign European governments dictating how to dress, what to speak, and what to think, how will these nations decide how to move forward? What do they take from their old cultures, and what do they take from the European cultures? Amidst this identity crisis, and the crisis of poverty, a testament to these great men and women is much needed.

Obama in Senegal

An interesting juxtaposition

We headed towards the market since my dad needed a hat. It was a long trip, during the hottest hours of the day. I was already much more comfortable and at ease, more and more excited about the idea of staying here for so long. We had a good lunch, if not a very Senegalese one (I had a cheeseburger), and went on walking. Water was a very important resource.

Buses exactly like this are found all over the city.

Along the road, we found a large number of fruit stalls, filled with mangoes, bananas, melons, oranges and the such. All were very appetizing, but we were too scared of getting sick, and so we kept our hunger, much to the disappointment of my dad and I. In addition to the fruit stalls, we found numerous stalls selling horns, furs, dried animals (frogs, chameleons, etc), porcupine quills, bird heads, animal dung, monkey paws, and more. This was a very exciting sight to a weird kid like me, and we found out that they were good luck amulets called "Gris-gris". They bring good luck, and it turns out most people here have them. I definitely want to buy some, but we were unsure about the legality, or the ethics, so we abstained for now.

One of the many stalls selling gris-gris.

We went to two markets before arriving at the big one. These were definitely an interesting experience. The first one was close to stagnant water, and so an overwhelming stench of feces and putrid water, mixed with very close quarters and hordes of mosquitos, quickly drove us out. This was the market that worried my dad. The second one was indoor, and the corridors were no wider than a foot and a half. It was dark and very smelly. I felt as though we were being followed. We definitely drew attention, as the only two white people within a range of four miles. I turned to the left and saw ten or so live chickens, half a foot away. I walked three more steps and found myself face to face with rotting chicken meat. We turned right and the stench of rotten meat and blood, mixed with the dark light and the sight of hanging meat attacked my senses, and we rushed out as soon as possible. This was a very scary experience for me, but it was definitely an interesting experience unlike any I had ever had. 

We continued towards the main market. Finally, we arrived. We were singled out as fresh meat, two foreigners filled with money and inexperience. A man started talking to us, and he introduced us to his Italian-Senegalese friend. The friend showed us around his shop, trying to get us to buy something. My dad had to buy the hat, and so after haggling, we bought it, obviously at an astronomically higher price than normal. We left, and after walking around a bit, we took a taxi home.

At home, we showered and headed to Isabella's house, where we were invited for dinner. It was a pleasant, friendly way to end a very interesting, eventful, great day. 

I have changed my outlook on Senegal today. I think I might have a very good time these next few weeks. It'll be a challenge for sure, but I'm sure it'll be an incredible experience. Today was a good day.