Def naa ko. Je l'ai fait. I did it!
So I always told myself that I would know I really belonged here when I was able to take a car rapide by myself. And I finally did that. I feel like I belong here in Dakar. I have friends, both guys from the neighborhood (des mecs du cartier), and my dance instructor and his friends. Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to get to know the women here. They don't hang out like the guys do, they also don't have much interest in getting to know tubaab yu jigeen (white girls).But anyway, here are my tales about the car rapides and Marche HLM.
Last Saturday, I went to the market with Jayna. I bought a couple shirts, an outfit for Korite (end of Ramadan), and a pair of heels. It was excellent trying to bargain in Wolof. They appreciate it when you make the effort. The market was filled with vendors and people. The term that comes to my mind is always, bustling boubous. That's what the market is like. You see women hovering around stands wearing the most incredible clothing and foulards (head scarves). It's a fabulous sight, so many vibrant colors. After the market, Jayna and I got instructions from a guard about how to take the car rapides back to Mermoz, our neighborhood. I was able to navigate the way. It was really satisfying to feel capable like that. We had to take two different cars and we ended up at home. Alhamdulilaay. De plus, it is so cheap to take these forms of public transportation.
On Friday night, after a lovely Thai dinner with the Mac contingency in Dakar, I took a car rapide for 75 CFA, which is all of 15 cents. The funny part though, about the public transportation is that the cars are prone to pull into a gas station and fill up with the engine running while on route, or it will stop at a big intersection for 10 minutes in hopes of getting more passengers. And the apprentis love to pack the cars full. On Friday, I sat in the car, inhaling the blue exhaust fumes of the car in front of us for at least 10 minutes. It was miserable, but it was safer than walking alone. When I hissed (to get the apprenti's attention) and said "Taxawal!" (Stop!) every passenger in the car turned to look at me. They were shocked that I spoke in Wolof. It was funny.
So those are my stories about car rapides.
posted by Hannah Gelder @ 4:58 PM
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