Tourists for a Day, Dakar to Saint Louis

The Nigerian soccer, I mean futbol, team is staying in our Dakar hotel. They played against Senegal last night for Le Coupe d'Afrique. Next time we are here, it would be great to invite a group of talibes to watch a match. Maybe even this time, at the stadium near Maison de la Gare. Jules, our guide, proprietor of SenegalLib Tours is on it. Dakar, a city that houses about half the population of Senegal, seems VERY alive.
www.senegal-lib-tour.sn

Soumbedioune Fish Market, Dakar

At the beach, a fish market came to life as the fishing boats arrived from the ocean with the fresh catch. I enjoyed

fresh mussels BBQ'd on a grill at the water's edge. Heaven. We met the first talibes we have seen in Dakar at the beach (there are no talibes on Goree). Rowan and Robbie were ready with candy. We also gave them money. We are all too conscious of their obligations to meet begging quotas. In St. Louis we never give money to talibes. I would not want a single franc of my money to end up in the hands of some of the marabouts I have met. We actively support the talibes of Saint Louis through Maison de la Gare, working to improve life for these kid today and in the future. But, in Dakar it is too difficult to stand before a blind talibe or look a group of three boys all younger than my nephew, Thomas, in the eyes and resist the urge to ease their suffering in the moment with an unhealthy treat and a coin. Even though we know it perpetuates an intolerable system of abuse. Even though we know our gesture does nothing to help them in the long run. We are not strong enough to do the right thing. What is the right thing?

When we stopped at a Dakar market, Robbie and Rowan lobbied hard to buy a baby goat to take back for a pet for the kids at MDG. All I could imagine was Mamadou's horror as the goat grew by eating its way through his garden.

We visited the Monument of the African Renaissance. This is the statue, representing the rebirth of all

Africa, erected by Senegal's past president, that one sees first when arriving at the airport. Robbie raced us all up the stairs, leaving us far behind. From the top of the stairs Robbie spotted a martial artist on a roof, about a kilometre away practicing his kata. This made him very anxious to get started teaching karate to the talibes, the monument forgotten.

At Lac Rose, one of only two such places in the world, thousands of tons of salt are harvested each year. Anyone can come and collect salt, at no cost. But, they must maintain a strict code of honour to respect each other's work and harvest. The lake is 3 metres deep, 1.5 m of hard pan salt, under 1.5 meters of water. The salt must be broken up from boats before it is collected with baskets. People cover themselves in grease to collect the salt, otherwise they would burn in 15 minutes in water that holds 380 g of salt per litre.  The best quality salt, fleur de sel, comes from the foam on the surface. Some will definitely be coming home with us.

 

The pink colour? Microorganisms in the water are brought to the surface with wind and sun, making it pink. At night, and in no wind the lake appears clear. The route to Saint Louis reminded Robin of rural Florida, except for the nescafe coffee stands, horse and donkey drawn carts, and people hanging off the back of busses. And the Baobab forests. And dromedaries. The roads are better here.

Arriving in Saint Louis felt like coming home for me and for Rowan. Robbie and Robin, here for the first time, were greeted like old friends from people who have heard about them for so long. The kids wanted to go to the Maison de la Gare centre right away. But, instead they have fallen asleep after several long days and sensory overload. Tomorrow...Maison de la Gare.