Beneath a Baobab: Stories from Sénégal

The Crazy Things You Can See in Senegal

This post is dedicated to all the seemingly ridiculous things I've seen in Senegal, that bring a smile to my face, sometimes a full-out laugh, but get no response from the Senegalese.

We'll begin with cows since they are a constant source of entertainment in this metropolitan area of Dakar. The other day, while waiting for my bus along a very busy road, traffic came to a halt while a huge pack of long-horn cows was herded through an intersection. Here I am, in the middle of a city with lots of cars, and cows come waddling through. I couldn't help but laugh. I looked around to see if anyone was as entertained as I was, but no one else seemed to acknowledge the fact that this was happening. Another incident came when my friends, Jayna, Megan, and I were walking home from class, along a busy road leading into downtown and we encountered another long-horn cow walking freely along the sidewalk. I grabbed a great picture. Finally, last week on my way to work, I passed a huge long-horn bull tied to a lamp post. He was there for a couple days and then disappeared, I presume for a sacrifice for a baptism or wedding.

Sheep are another category. You can almost always hear a sheep bleating in the distance. I would expect this in the bush, but not in the city. There are sheep tied to trees throughout the neighborhood. Then you see them in funny situations, like a live sheep being stuffed into the trunk of a cab. Or many being loaded and tied onto the top of a Ndiang Ndiaye. From the interior, you hear their hoofs scuffling on the roof, until they finally settle down for the ride.

Another smile is brought to my face by men in the informal job sector. You can buy absolutely anything you want from the window of your car or as a pedestrian on the sometimes-existant sidewalk. My favorite item for sale are the baby palm trees. Men walk down the street carrying one in each hand. The roots are wrapped up in plastic, and they walk around in hopes of a sale. I guess we all have to make our money somehow, but I never would have thought of selling trees!

Now I know I've talked about this before, but the lack of pedestrian rights and defined pedestrian areas never fails to amaze me. The rule of the road is: the biggest object wins. Therefore, pedestrians don't stand a chance. And if the area is big enough, it's fair game for vehicles to use. Thus, every day before and after work becomes a tricky game of strategy and careful navigation, and often some swearing at passing vehicles. My NGO is located along a very busy road that leads to the airport. One side of the road, has patches of sidewalk, the other side is just completely sand. The cars, frustrated with the traffic jams, often drive through the sand in order to cut time off their commute. But this is the only place for pedestrians to walk as well. I have to laugh when I look up and see three or four cars headed at me, bouncing along the sand. It reminds me of a rodeo, for some reason, all the cars are horses running over a mound. But after I laugh, I then quickly try to position myself behind some solid object like a boulder or fruitstand, so as to protect myself. Don't worry, the cars can't drive too quickly in the sand. This certainly keeps what-would-be-a-boring-walk-to-the-bus stop very exciting.

Here, we are in the final countdown to the presidential campaign. Campaign rallies and political meetings are a bit different than they are at home. Often, they are smaller and held in public neighborhoods spaces. They are very dynamic. I never understand because they are held in Wolof, but last night, the speaker would say something, and suddenly the women dressed in their boubous and foulards would rush out of their chairs, blowing their whitsles, and bouncing their butts and bodies to the beat of the drums. Men would wave their flags wildly. It's very exciting. You will also see caravans of Ndiang Ndiayes and car rapides going down the roads, packed to the brim, often including drums or stereos, and with people on top as well, all calling out, holding posters and wearing t-shirts supporting their candidate.

And my final thought for the moment, though I'm sure I'll continue to update this post, is the current status of my bus stop. I would sit on the unsheltered bench down the street from my work every evening while waiting for the bus. It was an uncomfortable blue metal bench, rusty in some places and slanting at one end; its legs were rooted in a concrete platform. A metal blue and yellow square stood on a post behind it to indicate it as a bus stop. One day last month, I came out from work and couldn't locate the bench. Finally, I discovered it was where it always was, the problem was just that there was the nose/grill of a huge truck over it, having apparently run into it and completely knocked it over. How this happened, I'll never know. As my father would say, "It's a good thing I wasn't sitting there." A couple days later the truck disappeared. However, the bench to this day remains a mangled mess of metal. Now I use another bus stop, but smile every time I look down the road to see my former point of embarkation.

That's all for now. Life and work in Dakar are going well. Not too much else to say, except how much I love this crazy country that always keeps me on my toes...

Oh Senegal, how you never fail to amaze me.

posted by Hannah Gelder @ 12:39 PM