Composed on the Paris-Dakar Rally Route. Written and Posted in Ottawa: Tourists again.

On the morning of our last full day in Saint Louis, the four of us took a calèche tour before heading to Maison de la Gare for our final goodbyes. Knowing what to expect from past experience in a calèche with Rowan, I warned the driver that Rowan would not tolerate it if he either whipped the horse or made it to canter on the paved roads. But, no need to have worried, this horse seemed unusually well treated by local standards.

Our Calèche

Saint Louis has a long and interesting history, defined for centuries by slavery, then by French colonization.  The ties to France still abound. French is spoken in schools and government. White baguettes are standard breakfast fare for everyone, including the talibés. The architecture and feeling of the city on the Island is very reminiscent of New Orleans, but older, charmingly shabbier, and everything is covered in a layer of sand dust. And, goats are everywhere. The island of Saint Louis is connected to the mainland by a 512 metre bridge spanning the Senegal River, le Pont Faidherbe, designed by the architect of the Eiffel Tower, and was a gift from France to Senegal.

As we drove over a second bridge to La Langue de Barbarie, a long spit of land, connected at one end

La Langue de Barbarie

to Mauritania, we truly entered another world. This is the world of fisher-families, a society apart from the rest of Saint Louis. Many people who live here may never cross the bridge to leave the small neighbourhood of Guet NDar. Every family here is dedicated to the work of ocean fishing. Men here have up to four wives and often over a dozen children, all dedicated to working to manage the catch. Children rarely go to school here.

Saint Louis is the city most in danger of global warming induced rising sea levels. And, Serious flooding is a chronic issue in the rainy season. For these reasons, the site of Maison de la Gare was built up many feet with gravel and sand before construction began. La Langue de Barbarie, right at the ocean's edge, and only a few feet above sea level, is the area most at risk. The occasional summer cyclone or heavy storm can be devastating here.

Guet Ndar typical street

The houses the fisher people live in are tiny, and in many cases, all family members do not fit in the house at any one time and they have to sleep in shifts. Nevertheless, families are relatively rich, due to the work of fishing. Every tiny house has several televisions, one for each wife, and antenas dominate the skyline. Most men own land away from the area. But, they are superstitious and rent out the large homes they build in the countryside, fearing that if they or their families move away from the tiny ancestral homes on La Langue de Barbarie, their good luck with fishing will be replaced by a curse. So, they stay.

Returning from Saint Louis to Dakar, we followed the route of the Paris - Dakar Rally, along the

Letting air out of tires for the beach drive

beach, in a four by four truck, baggage strapped in the back. I had not taken this route before, and I was astonished, along with the rest of my family, at the never-ending beach that borders the entire length of Senegal from Saint Louis to Dakar.  We drove, literally, on the beach. Our driver skillfully

avoided the pounding waves of the Atlantic while driving as close as possible to the water to benefit from the firmest and smoothest sand. The expansive white sand of the beach extended seemingly endlessly. The perfect surfing rollers to our right, forrest to our left, we encountered many horse drawn carts on our way, and the occasional truck avoiding the main highway. Several fishing communities dotted our route. Occasionally as fishing pirogues were  launching to sea and blocking our route, we had to temporarily navigate inland around the community to continue on our way.

About two hours into the drive we turned inland to Lampoul, an area of desert populated by

Lampoul

dromedaries. We stopped for lunch in a bedouin-style tent. We were scheduled to ride dromedaries before continuing on our way. However, the camel driver who was to prepare our mounts had not shown up that day. "C'est l'Afrique" was the explanation, along with a simple shrug. So, we drove back to the coast to continue to Dakar.

The incoming tide forced us off the beach a little before our destination of Dakar, and we passed by Lac Rose for a second time (the finish line of the Rally was at Lac Rose). The lake was brilliantly pink on this day, and piles of freshly collected salt were everywhere.

Lac Rose 

Driving through the countryside from the beach back to the highway presented yet another side of this part of Africa. Communities packed with children, running and playing in the streets, calling and waving to us as we passed: "toubab!", women in brightly coloured Senegalese dresses lounging at their market stalls waited for business, and as usual goats were everywhere. The closer we drew to Dakar, the more dense the crowds of people and market stalls became. The noises and activity grew more intense and the colours even brighter. Fewer horse carts, more cars.

Later, as our plane left the ground, and Africa, a part of our hearts remained behind, connected forevermore to the talibés of Senegal and this land.

"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inextricable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."
           - Martin Luther King Jr.