11.28.23

Senegal, West Africa ~ on the actual continent of Africa – my heart is happy.

We docked in Dakar on a Tuesday, a very crowded, noisy city, full of all types of transportation, i.e. cars, scooters, bikes, buses, trucks and pedestrians. Throughout the city and countryside there are thousands of unfinished buildings. The citizens who want to build a house anywhere in the country can borrow/pay the equivalent for about $1500 and have two years to complete the building. Sadly most of them never get to complete the homes and lose the property and whatever progress they have made. It is a huge scar/footprint everywhere you look in the country. Our guide made a comment if we wanted to buy a 150 sq ft brick skeleton apartment in the city – there were plenty available. That’s the normal size in the city and in suburbs and country side, a bit bigger. For perspective, the average income is about $250 a month…

Muslims make up about 95% of the country, with the rest being Christians and some following tribal beliefs and practices. Having multiple wives is still a custom for some, and the average number of children in the city is 3.6, while outside the cities it is about 5.5. This number has significantly decreased in recent years. The guide repeated, said that it is one country, and everyone lives with each other in peace, as one country.

Peace Corps is currently in Senegal and work in a variety of areas requested by the agencies in the local government. There is a lot of infrastructure and at the same time a lot of voids as would be true in any developing country. Parts of the city were stunning and others were left behind. More and more boats are leaving with migrants, mostly young men and some women with children to escape to Europe – Spain, Portugal and the Canary Islands. The belief is life will be better – but for those who have traveled in Europe you might recall the panhandlers selling goods on the sidewalks and trying to make money. Personally I’ve always found this annoying but not realizing these people had escaped their own country to make a new life contributes to my need to take a second look at them. There own countrymen have traveled to parts of Europe to encourage them to come home…it’s a sad situation.

We have had fantastic guides. Whenever someone speaks with an accent, we can assume it is their second or third language, and I continue to be impressed. Our tour in Senegal was called Pink Lake Retba and Village Festival.

Due to climate change, Senegal’s pink lake is no long pink. It is a saltwater lake and they have had so much rain that it has desalinated. They are still able to produce salt and fish and at the same time they are trying to get rid of the fresh water and create a saltwater lake again which should turn pink again. Once we got to Lake Retba, we boarded 4×4 jeeps and open air small trucks to experience the bumpy ride on the sand dunes along the coast of the Atlantic. This was once the final stage of the “Paris-Dakar” car rally. It really was good fun!

That morning we also visited a Fulani village. This tribe is a nomad tribe and has moved it self from east Africa all over the western coast of Africa. At one point coming from the Masai. More recently, the borders of the west African countries have been more controlled so the nomadic activities has have been curtailed for a large amount and they are now required to cultivate and grow their own food. The village we visited was very basic, nice people. Met the “chief”…he had three wives and 14 children. There was a school there and a lot of goats. We learned how to grind millet, and one of the women was working next to a jiko as well as washing clothes…so many memories of Kenya and Peace Corps.

From there we went for a lunch at a resort style place and then on to the traditional Wolof village of Noflaye. We were greeted by drumming, music and locals from the village – there were chairs set up for us on a shady side of the street (it’s been very hot as we progress farther south). Young boys were on the roof tops and mothers and small children watching all of us and waiting for the festival dancing and music. We had no idea of what to expect but it was quite extraordinary and ornate. If I were to interpret the dancing I would say it represented determination, strength and a bit of intimidation. One dancer did some fire breathing…and there were women who dance in response to some of the men’s dances.

Once the festival ended we climbed back on the bus and drove to the port through the city of Dakar. There are many levels of development and wealth in the city. And lots and lots of traffic. It was a long slow drive offering many views of everyday life, a beautiful coast line and a bit of a frenetic city. Offering a few random photos – mostly from the bus window, it’s fascinating to watch as we drive…