1/1/05
SATURDAY
JANUARY 1, 2005
The beginning of the New Year and I’m up around 11:30. Mary also had the day off. Us two just sat around while she read the news out loud to me about the tsunami disaster. I knew Dave was going to be out like a light so I didn’t even bother to move my clothes to another bathroom to take a shower. He told me when he got in that morning to wake him up around two o’clock if he wasn’t awake already. At two o’clock I went inside the room, turned on the lights, set the alarm to go off in two minutes and left. A half hour later he showed up, all showered and ready to go, in the computer room where Mary and I were. Mary was supposed to go out for lunch, but they had called and cancelled. Her co-workers had partied a little too hard and slept over at the other house. They called earlier in the day to apologize for canceling the New Year breakfast.
My original plans, though only mental and subject to complete flexible change, was to see Goree Island for the day and head out early tomorrow morning. I had hoped to bring Dave to upcountry The Gambia and hopefully to see my training village, which I had not been back to in over a year, since training was over with.
We got ready to go out for lunch and went to Ali Baba’s again. They didn’t have what he ordered again, despite ordering something different from last time. This was the second time in row that had happened. It was then that he told me that we had to be at the Cathedral at six o’clock since that’s where he would be meeting Rebecca.
“Who’s Rebecca?”
“She’s a volunteer in Senegal. After you left I didn’t know you left and so I tried finding you. I couldn’t find you and so I walked out of the compound. The guard was surprised that I was still there and told me I had to go, I had leave. I tried to explain that I would as soon as I told her I was leaving and I went back to tell her. She convinced the guard that I should stay but by that time I already walked out again. She came along and we just sat outside the compound until the sun came up. We heard the first call to prayer at five in the morning. I figured it was time to leave when sunrise occurred.”
By now it was around four in the afternoon and he told Rebecca that he would meet her at the cathedral at six. After leaving Ali Baba’s we crossed the street and walked another block to an Internet Café. For 500CFA would could surf the Internet or send e-mails for a half-hour. They gave each of us a slip of paper with a code on it we could use to log into the computer. Dave logged in right away while somehow I mistyped the code not once, not twice, but three times and the computer locked me out. The manager had to come over and reboot the machine, with this time he himself typed in the code so I could use the computer. Another problem was the keyboard was all in French! Instead of the top six letters on the first row being “QWERTY” it was “AZERTY”. Every time I wanted to type an ‘a’, the button I would be pushing was the ‘q’ key and a ‘q’ would appear on the screen. I didn’t notice this at first and so my “Happy New Years!” message turned out to say “Hqppy Nez Yeqrs!” Not the message I wanted to get across.
By 5:30 we headed out to the Cathedral. Yesterday it was deserted, so it seemed the perfect place to meet someone. A safe place where everyone knew where it was and both parties could be easily seen. One major obstacle was now happening in progress. A full blown Senegalese Wedding! Women in colorful African gowns or traditional white dresses walked around while men in tuxedos or suites stood about. Amongst the wedding crowd we did stand out, both of us being the only white people on the premises and Dave was taller than anyone. All Rebecca had to do was spot the tall white guy amongst the crowd!
Rebecca showed up right on time. The first thing I noticed, to be honest, was that she was shorter than I was. This in itself is nothing special, but considering Dave is good six inches taller than me it made for a funny contrast between their heights. Rebecca’s sector among Peace Corps is called EE, which stands for Environmental Education, which is similar to The Gambian Agriculture / Forestry sector. What an EE volunteer does is organize or initiate environmental awareness activities; vegetable production using organic and low-input methods; and tree-planting or local conservation tasks.
She lives about an hour so out of Dakar, near a town called Thiés, which is pronounced like Chez. Her village name made us all laugh. Its name: Laland! Images of living in la-la-land and to not be realistic but to think that things that are completely impossible might happen gave a sense of pleasure and a little laughter. Christmas packages appearing out of no-where, money growing on trees, children not begging for your items – everyday occurrences in la-la-land! Equally funny was having the theme song of Smurfs going through our head.
La la la-la la la,
Sing a happy song.
La la la-la la la,
Smurf your whole day long.
Dave even joined in commenting about when Gargamel joined the song, the theme changes to a dark music when they showed his castle.
[Ominous Gargamel music]
[Gargamel speaks]
Oooooo I hate Smurfs!
[Azrael meows]
[Gargamel speaks]
I'll get you, I'll get all of you if it's the last thing I ever do! hehehehe!
[Sung by Smurfs in unison]
La la la-la la la,
Now you know the tune,
Rebecca acknowledged the resemblance of her village name to both an imaginary land and to the Smurf Theme Song. She even helped us sing along on a few verses. Despite having Dakar being her nearest regional capital she hadn’t done much of tourist things in Dakar, and hadn’t even been to Goree Island. We looked at the map to see what the closest tourist item we could do. Only three blocks away, and actually on the same street, was the Palais Présidentiel, the Presidential Palace! We walked the few blocks and admired the palace from a distance. Dave wanted to take a picture of the Palace, and I wasn’t too sure if that was a good idea.
Back in June, after President Reagan had died, I wanted to take a picture of the American Embassy in The Gambia when its flag was half-mast. Although no picture was taken, the security guards (with automatic weapons) informed me that I should not even attempt to take a picture. When I entered the Peace Corps Office a few minutes later I was ushered into the Security Office, as the Embassy had called the Peace Corps Office wondering if any of their volunteers were trying to take a picture of the Embassy. For just wanting a symbolic picture of being abroad during a presidential death I had caused securities from the Embassy and PC office to fill out a report since they had to radio back and forth to each other over this ‘incident’.
Dave brought his camera up to his head and snapped a picture of the Presidential Palace. No bells were ringing with the security people, so I followed suit. Although I don’t have a picture of The American Embassy with the flag at half-mast, I now have a picture of the Senegalese Presidential Palace.
The next stop for us was to find some place to eat. The day before, for New Year’s Eve, Mary had suggested we go to Club Med (the local name for Les Almadies Club Mediterranee) located across town near Pointe des Almadies, which happened to be the western most point of continental Africa. I had been to Pointe des Almadies before, last March when I went to take the GREs, and knew the general area, but I did not know where Club Med was.
Rebecca had been trained in French and Wolof, but her Wolof that her village uses was a completely different dialect than Gambian Wolof and we only knew a few words in connection between us. Despite the fact I only know a few words to begin with! In The Gambia, since it’s an English speaking country, the volunteers only have to learn the local language. However, in Senegal the official language is French and so all the volunteers have to first learn French and then while learning French in training to also learn one of the local languages of Wolof, Pulaar, Jola, or Mandika. Double duty.
She pulled out her French / Wolof combination and bartered for our taxi to take us to Club Med. Two taxis later she got a good deal and we got in, despite the first taxi now trying to out due our current taxi and get us back. Too late. For the next fifteen minutes we were driving around Dakar trying to get to Club Med. When he finally dropped us off we were at the entrance, but it’s not down the street that I know. The Club actually looked more exclusive than we had thought, and later learned that they wouldn’t let us in anyway. The taxi drivers were trying to tell us it’s a long way to the point but we refused all offers and started to walk. It was a quarter of a mile at most.
As I said before, this was the most western most point of continental Africa. Now, in the US, we have signs announcing all sorts of geographic interests. I’ve driven past the forty-fifth parallel going to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and even had a picture taken of me next to a sign proudly declaring “The Northernmost Point of Lake Michigan.” In the grand scheme of things, those two aren’t as special as maybe the Equator, Prime Meridian, or the farthest four-corners of an entire continent. But alas, no sign anywhere proclaiming it such!
We passed the local shops of Senegalese men and women selling everything from overpriced bracelets to ornaments made from shells and stones, to fruits and vegetables. Past the shops, and hidden a little bit, was a pile of rocks out from the shore. With careful climbing you can maneuver to the top of the mound and even go around and sit at the farthest point of Africa. There is a point farther west but it’s on the islands of the country Cape Verde, which consists of a group of islands with the western most one being Santo Antao. That doesn’t count. It’s like saying your in West Quoddy Head, Maine (the farthest EAST you can be in the continental US) and then have your friend calling up from Attu International Airport on the island of Attu, Alaska saying he’s farther East. Technically correct, since Attu is before the International Date Line and so it makes Alaska the farthest East and West state of the US. Attu Island is the westernmost point of the US located at 173 degrees EAST latitude.
We sat down at the rocks for a while, enjoying the water splashing against the rocks, the fact we were in Africa, the fact that America was an ocean away, and that this was the first day of a New Year.
Being at this side of town, and a mile away or so from any economical restaurants we bit the bullet and went inside one that was located nearby, near the water. The entire menu was in French, as it should be, and only Rebecca knew most of the words with Dave knowing some and the only word I recognized was “fruit”. That was what I was going to order. It was called “fruit de la mer”. Rebecca casually asked me what I was ordering and to see if I needed any help.
“Nope. Have what I want all picked out.”
“What are you getting?”
“fruit de la mer”
“You know that’s not fruit?”
“It’s not?”
“Do you want to know what it is?”
“Well, I’ll order it anyway, but yeah, sure.”
“’fruit de la mer’ is French for ‘Fruit of the Sea’”
“That’s not fruit.”
“No it isn’t”
“I’ll still get it.”
Rebecca ordered for us, as it sure beat our usual style of pointing and murdering the language. A few minutes later my plate of clams, shellfish, shrimp, and crabs arrived. Although I was prepared for it, it still was a complete opposite of getting a bowl of apples, bananas, mango, oranges, and watermelon; all of which you can get in Africa surprisingly. Not surprisingly, however, the meal that Dave ordered they didn’t have and he had to order a different item, the third time in two days that happened.
During our meal Dave and I got the itinerary worked out for the rest of the trip. He wanted to visit Rebecca in Laland and she and him went back and forth figuring out when she would be in village next. Once the dates were confirmed Dave and I talked on what route might be best. We could either go clockwise, through Georgetown first and down to Banjul before coming up back to Laland and Dakar; or counterclockwise reaching Banjul first, Georgetown, and then heading back up to Laland and Dakar.
The deciding factor was that he wanted to be in Banjul on Wednesday night for a Rotary Club meeting. That settled it. We had to go clockwise. Tomorrow morning we would leave and head out to Farafenni, upcountry Gambia. Explore upcountry for a few days before heading back to Kombo and Banjul for Wednesday’s meeting and then head back to Senegal. Our trip was planned.
He also mentioned he wanted to see monkeys. Knowing a small-monkey park near where I lived as a possible alternative to the more attractive Abuko Nature Reserve, that I haven’t been too yet, I promised him that he would see monkeys before he left. In fact, I believe I guaranteed it.
Dave offered to pay for Rebecca’s meal on condition that she would show him around Laland when he came to visit. Her response? “Well, there’s not much to see in Laland, but OK!” For any typical village anywhere in Senegal or The Gambia there isn’t much. Maybe a water well, a pump, and eating with your hands, but that’s what we came here for! We don’t expect, although do appreciate it if we do get, air conditioning, TV, and fine foods. The village experience would be a treat for both of us. I’ve only been to volunteers’ sites in The Gambia and none in Senegal, so it would be new for me as well. We paid the bill and got a taxi back, first to drop her off at the Hostel, and then to continue to drop us off.
On the way down the road we passed one taxi completely on top of another, like you sometimes see in cartoons. It was as if the bottom taxi went a hundred miles an hour and bumped the other one from behind forcing it up on it. Even our taxi driver was impressed and said, “incroyable!”, meaning ‘incredible!’. It was quite a sight.
We dropped Rebecca off, said goodbye and promised to visit by the end of the week. We then headed back to Mary’s for our last night of luxury before heading to upcountry Africa. We wouldn’t be back until the 9th of January.
Needless to say, we went to bed almost as soon as we got in.
JANUARY 1, 2005
The beginning of the New Year and I’m up around 11:30. Mary also had the day off. Us two just sat around while she read the news out loud to me about the tsunami disaster. I knew Dave was going to be out like a light so I didn’t even bother to move my clothes to another bathroom to take a shower. He told me when he got in that morning to wake him up around two o’clock if he wasn’t awake already. At two o’clock I went inside the room, turned on the lights, set the alarm to go off in two minutes and left. A half hour later he showed up, all showered and ready to go, in the computer room where Mary and I were. Mary was supposed to go out for lunch, but they had called and cancelled. Her co-workers had partied a little too hard and slept over at the other house. They called earlier in the day to apologize for canceling the New Year breakfast.
My original plans, though only mental and subject to complete flexible change, was to see Goree Island for the day and head out early tomorrow morning. I had hoped to bring Dave to upcountry The Gambia and hopefully to see my training village, which I had not been back to in over a year, since training was over with.
We got ready to go out for lunch and went to Ali Baba’s again. They didn’t have what he ordered again, despite ordering something different from last time. This was the second time in row that had happened. It was then that he told me that we had to be at the Cathedral at six o’clock since that’s where he would be meeting Rebecca.
“Who’s Rebecca?”
“She’s a volunteer in Senegal. After you left I didn’t know you left and so I tried finding you. I couldn’t find you and so I walked out of the compound. The guard was surprised that I was still there and told me I had to go, I had leave. I tried to explain that I would as soon as I told her I was leaving and I went back to tell her. She convinced the guard that I should stay but by that time I already walked out again. She came along and we just sat outside the compound until the sun came up. We heard the first call to prayer at five in the morning. I figured it was time to leave when sunrise occurred.”
By now it was around four in the afternoon and he told Rebecca that he would meet her at the cathedral at six. After leaving Ali Baba’s we crossed the street and walked another block to an Internet Café. For 500CFA would could surf the Internet or send e-mails for a half-hour. They gave each of us a slip of paper with a code on it we could use to log into the computer. Dave logged in right away while somehow I mistyped the code not once, not twice, but three times and the computer locked me out. The manager had to come over and reboot the machine, with this time he himself typed in the code so I could use the computer. Another problem was the keyboard was all in French! Instead of the top six letters on the first row being “QWERTY” it was “AZERTY”. Every time I wanted to type an ‘a’, the button I would be pushing was the ‘q’ key and a ‘q’ would appear on the screen. I didn’t notice this at first and so my “Happy New Years!” message turned out to say “Hqppy Nez Yeqrs!” Not the message I wanted to get across.
By 5:30 we headed out to the Cathedral. Yesterday it was deserted, so it seemed the perfect place to meet someone. A safe place where everyone knew where it was and both parties could be easily seen. One major obstacle was now happening in progress. A full blown Senegalese Wedding! Women in colorful African gowns or traditional white dresses walked around while men in tuxedos or suites stood about. Amongst the wedding crowd we did stand out, both of us being the only white people on the premises and Dave was taller than anyone. All Rebecca had to do was spot the tall white guy amongst the crowd!
Rebecca showed up right on time. The first thing I noticed, to be honest, was that she was shorter than I was. This in itself is nothing special, but considering Dave is good six inches taller than me it made for a funny contrast between their heights. Rebecca’s sector among Peace Corps is called EE, which stands for Environmental Education, which is similar to The Gambian Agriculture / Forestry sector. What an EE volunteer does is organize or initiate environmental awareness activities; vegetable production using organic and low-input methods; and tree-planting or local conservation tasks.
She lives about an hour so out of Dakar, near a town called Thiés, which is pronounced like Chez. Her village name made us all laugh. Its name: Laland! Images of living in la-la-land and to not be realistic but to think that things that are completely impossible might happen gave a sense of pleasure and a little laughter. Christmas packages appearing out of no-where, money growing on trees, children not begging for your items – everyday occurrences in la-la-land! Equally funny was having the theme song of Smurfs going through our head.
La la la-la la la,
Sing a happy song.
La la la-la la la,
Smurf your whole day long.
Dave even joined in commenting about when Gargamel joined the song, the theme changes to a dark music when they showed his castle.
[Ominous Gargamel music]
[Gargamel speaks]
Oooooo I hate Smurfs!
[Azrael meows]
[Gargamel speaks]
I'll get you, I'll get all of you if it's the last thing I ever do! hehehehe!
[Sung by Smurfs in unison]
La la la-la la la,
Now you know the tune,
Rebecca acknowledged the resemblance of her village name to both an imaginary land and to the Smurf Theme Song. She even helped us sing along on a few verses. Despite having Dakar being her nearest regional capital she hadn’t done much of tourist things in Dakar, and hadn’t even been to Goree Island. We looked at the map to see what the closest tourist item we could do. Only three blocks away, and actually on the same street, was the Palais Présidentiel, the Presidential Palace! We walked the few blocks and admired the palace from a distance. Dave wanted to take a picture of the Palace, and I wasn’t too sure if that was a good idea.
Back in June, after President Reagan had died, I wanted to take a picture of the American Embassy in The Gambia when its flag was half-mast. Although no picture was taken, the security guards (with automatic weapons) informed me that I should not even attempt to take a picture. When I entered the Peace Corps Office a few minutes later I was ushered into the Security Office, as the Embassy had called the Peace Corps Office wondering if any of their volunteers were trying to take a picture of the Embassy. For just wanting a symbolic picture of being abroad during a presidential death I had caused securities from the Embassy and PC office to fill out a report since they had to radio back and forth to each other over this ‘incident’.
Dave brought his camera up to his head and snapped a picture of the Presidential Palace. No bells were ringing with the security people, so I followed suit. Although I don’t have a picture of The American Embassy with the flag at half-mast, I now have a picture of the Senegalese Presidential Palace.
The next stop for us was to find some place to eat. The day before, for New Year’s Eve, Mary had suggested we go to Club Med (the local name for Les Almadies Club Mediterranee) located across town near Pointe des Almadies, which happened to be the western most point of continental Africa. I had been to Pointe des Almadies before, last March when I went to take the GREs, and knew the general area, but I did not know where Club Med was.
Rebecca had been trained in French and Wolof, but her Wolof that her village uses was a completely different dialect than Gambian Wolof and we only knew a few words in connection between us. Despite the fact I only know a few words to begin with! In The Gambia, since it’s an English speaking country, the volunteers only have to learn the local language. However, in Senegal the official language is French and so all the volunteers have to first learn French and then while learning French in training to also learn one of the local languages of Wolof, Pulaar, Jola, or Mandika. Double duty.
She pulled out her French / Wolof combination and bartered for our taxi to take us to Club Med. Two taxis later she got a good deal and we got in, despite the first taxi now trying to out due our current taxi and get us back. Too late. For the next fifteen minutes we were driving around Dakar trying to get to Club Med. When he finally dropped us off we were at the entrance, but it’s not down the street that I know. The Club actually looked more exclusive than we had thought, and later learned that they wouldn’t let us in anyway. The taxi drivers were trying to tell us it’s a long way to the point but we refused all offers and started to walk. It was a quarter of a mile at most.
As I said before, this was the most western most point of continental Africa. Now, in the US, we have signs announcing all sorts of geographic interests. I’ve driven past the forty-fifth parallel going to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and even had a picture taken of me next to a sign proudly declaring “The Northernmost Point of Lake Michigan.” In the grand scheme of things, those two aren’t as special as maybe the Equator, Prime Meridian, or the farthest four-corners of an entire continent. But alas, no sign anywhere proclaiming it such!
We passed the local shops of Senegalese men and women selling everything from overpriced bracelets to ornaments made from shells and stones, to fruits and vegetables. Past the shops, and hidden a little bit, was a pile of rocks out from the shore. With careful climbing you can maneuver to the top of the mound and even go around and sit at the farthest point of Africa. There is a point farther west but it’s on the islands of the country Cape Verde, which consists of a group of islands with the western most one being Santo Antao. That doesn’t count. It’s like saying your in West Quoddy Head, Maine (the farthest EAST you can be in the continental US) and then have your friend calling up from Attu International Airport on the island of Attu, Alaska saying he’s farther East. Technically correct, since Attu is before the International Date Line and so it makes Alaska the farthest East and West state of the US. Attu Island is the westernmost point of the US located at 173 degrees EAST latitude.
We sat down at the rocks for a while, enjoying the water splashing against the rocks, the fact we were in Africa, the fact that America was an ocean away, and that this was the first day of a New Year.
Being at this side of town, and a mile away or so from any economical restaurants we bit the bullet and went inside one that was located nearby, near the water. The entire menu was in French, as it should be, and only Rebecca knew most of the words with Dave knowing some and the only word I recognized was “fruit”. That was what I was going to order. It was called “fruit de la mer”. Rebecca casually asked me what I was ordering and to see if I needed any help.
“Nope. Have what I want all picked out.”
“What are you getting?”
“fruit de la mer”
“You know that’s not fruit?”
“It’s not?”
“Do you want to know what it is?”
“Well, I’ll order it anyway, but yeah, sure.”
“’fruit de la mer’ is French for ‘Fruit of the Sea’”
“That’s not fruit.”
“No it isn’t”
“I’ll still get it.”
Rebecca ordered for us, as it sure beat our usual style of pointing and murdering the language. A few minutes later my plate of clams, shellfish, shrimp, and crabs arrived. Although I was prepared for it, it still was a complete opposite of getting a bowl of apples, bananas, mango, oranges, and watermelon; all of which you can get in Africa surprisingly. Not surprisingly, however, the meal that Dave ordered they didn’t have and he had to order a different item, the third time in two days that happened.
During our meal Dave and I got the itinerary worked out for the rest of the trip. He wanted to visit Rebecca in Laland and she and him went back and forth figuring out when she would be in village next. Once the dates were confirmed Dave and I talked on what route might be best. We could either go clockwise, through Georgetown first and down to Banjul before coming up back to Laland and Dakar; or counterclockwise reaching Banjul first, Georgetown, and then heading back up to Laland and Dakar.
The deciding factor was that he wanted to be in Banjul on Wednesday night for a Rotary Club meeting. That settled it. We had to go clockwise. Tomorrow morning we would leave and head out to Farafenni, upcountry Gambia. Explore upcountry for a few days before heading back to Kombo and Banjul for Wednesday’s meeting and then head back to Senegal. Our trip was planned.
He also mentioned he wanted to see monkeys. Knowing a small-monkey park near where I lived as a possible alternative to the more attractive Abuko Nature Reserve, that I haven’t been too yet, I promised him that he would see monkeys before he left. In fact, I believe I guaranteed it.
Dave offered to pay for Rebecca’s meal on condition that she would show him around Laland when he came to visit. Her response? “Well, there’s not much to see in Laland, but OK!” For any typical village anywhere in Senegal or The Gambia there isn’t much. Maybe a water well, a pump, and eating with your hands, but that’s what we came here for! We don’t expect, although do appreciate it if we do get, air conditioning, TV, and fine foods. The village experience would be a treat for both of us. I’ve only been to volunteers’ sites in The Gambia and none in Senegal, so it would be new for me as well. We paid the bill and got a taxi back, first to drop her off at the Hostel, and then to continue to drop us off.
On the way down the road we passed one taxi completely on top of another, like you sometimes see in cartoons. It was as if the bottom taxi went a hundred miles an hour and bumped the other one from behind forcing it up on it. Even our taxi driver was impressed and said, “incroyable!”, meaning ‘incredible!’. It was quite a sight.
We dropped Rebecca off, said goodbye and promised to visit by the end of the week. We then headed back to Mary’s for our last night of luxury before heading to upcountry Africa. We wouldn’t be back until the 9th of January.
Needless to say, we went to bed almost as soon as we got in.
posted by Mike | 5:36 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home