Dakar. May 5th, 2003.

(email/journal)

Dakar is like an African New York. Taxis fill the roads, crowds fill the streets, and when it comes to driving anything goes.

I think I neglected to mention in my last email that Senegal is a french speaking country. (Like most of West Africa, it used to be a French colony). So writing these emails is one of the few things I do in English. Although, the official language of Senegal is French, there are 15 to 20 tribal languages. The largest, and most widely spoken, is Wolof. The majority of the population speaks Wolof. I've been learning a few words of it, but I doubt I'll ever be able to communicate well. I stick to French.

A few days ago I visited the island of Goree. It's about a half hour boat ride from Dakar (I can see it from my Hotel.) Goree (pronounced "gor-ay"), was once an outpost during the transatlantic slave trade. We visited the buildings where slaves were housed, waiting to be taken over the ocean. Hundreds of slaves at a time were literally stuffed into small spaces and hardly fed. We also visited the "Door of No Return" where the slaves were led through when they were put on the ships. They were squeezed into the lower decks of the ships like sardines, lacking the space even to turn around. Only about 1 in 7 actually lived to see the Americas.

Goree is a beautiful island, and consequently, a tourist trap. We were the only Americans there, but there were lots of French tourists. We visited a museum dedicated to Senegelese women, and a historical museum. We visited the markets and had lunch at a restaurant by the beach.

The island is pretty small--one can walk from one side to the other in 15 to 20 minutes. I did some haggling and got some necklaces to give away back home. Like in Dakar, vendors are desparate for sales. They live off what the tourists buy from them and at times they can be overly aggressive. Some vendors tell the stupidist stories to get you to buy something. One found out I'm an artist so he told me he was an art teacher. I met him on the boat and he told me I absolutely HAD to come to his kiosk and see his art. Turns out he wasn't really a teacher--he really just "teaches" people about his unique products; little wooden sculptures you can buy pretty much anywhere. Of course he made me feel obligated to buy something because we were "friends." Two minutes conversation equates to a deep, sublime friendship apparently. I had to say "no thanks" and move on. Being manipulated can be annoying, but I understand that a lot of the vendors really are desparate. It's just if I bought from everyone who looked like they needed help, I'd run out of money in minutes.

We also took a long bus ride to the region of Thies, north of Dakar. We stayed in a french-style hotel along the beach and enjoyed the scenery. I ate some bad food and was pretty sick (vomiting and fever) for a couple days. It was hellish while it was happening -- I took a pill that prevented me from vomiting the second day and that was a BAD idea. Every time the bus bounced it was like a stab in my belly. I felt like a walking corpse. But I'm back to normal now. I'm told that everyone is bound to be sick one or two times during a stay in Senegal, so I figure I've paid my dues.

The beach in Thies was full of prostitutes--male prostitutes. We had no idea at first that's what they were. They came up to the women in our group and began to get friendly very fast. One muscley guy was wearing a swimsuit which was really a pair of "Rugrats" briefs that barely covered anything. Not a pleasant sight. At least three of the girls in the group ended the day with fiancees. It was a one-way engagement, of course. The men pretty much said "you and me, we're going to get married," and the girls tried their best to avoid them after that.

That evening our director told us we should probably avoid them entirely. It turns out this part of Senegal, which is pretty ritzy compared to others, is where many French women come for a good time. If you are a foreign woman, you can walk down the beach and pick out pretty much any of the men you would like to sleep with for a small fee.

We had a fun experience at the fish market back in Dakar. We were watching the fishing boats come in and some large women started beating on drums and dancing. They saw us watching and pulled us in the dance with them. I'm sure I looked ridiculous trying to dance African style with a woman three times my size. But it was a good laugh for everyone.

We also went to see Youssou N'Dour in concert. He's like the Micheal Jackson of Senegal. It took place in a huge stadium, packed full. Five and a half hours into the concert we finally left. It was still going strong (at 2 a.m.) There were 6 or 7 long opening acts before Youssou N'Dour himself took the stage. He was good. I'll have to get one of his CDs.

Classes go well. We're reading "L'adventure Ambigue" right now -- a book about the delicate balance between traditionional values learned in a Muslim village and the altered values one learns in a modern, scientific society. Tomorrow we'll be meeting with the author, Chiekh Hamidou Kane, to discuss it.

So long for now.


Goree Island.