Saint Louis - de retourne

The sky is clear and the sun is hot. There is no sign of the violent storm we drove through last night enroute to Saint Louis. Word has spread that we have arrived and more friends have appeared to greet us. 

The pandemic has been so difficult for so many here. So many jobs lost, then later regained, but at diminished hours and wages. People understand, and belts tighten. The many who rely on tourists for their livelihoods are still waiting for things to improve. How they have found a way to make ends meet these past years is a mystery. 

As we walk through the streets, I hear my name called out many times in greeting. It seems to be well understood that we are here for the talibés, and not as tourists. 

But, there seem to be fewer people on the island than I remember. I wonder how many have left the city to return to families elsewhere, due to the high prices and lack of work. The Pont Faidherbe has far less foot traffic traffic than I remember. The city is definitely quieter. More subdued. Waiting for things to be better. Waiting for the city to wake. 

In the afternoon we make our way to Maison de la Gare. Sor is definitely busier. This is a place for locals. This is closer to what we remember. At the center a pick-up game of futbol is underway. Kalidou is teaching an english class. As Rowan and I meet with Issa and Boubacar Robbie leads a game of tag with the kids. Then he helps Lala prepare and hand out the evening meal. 

At 8pm we are surprised by a great noise. I wonder if the rain has come to Saint Louis. But no, it is a planned “symphony of Cassoroles”. it seems much of the city has come out to bang their pots tonight in protest of the President of Senegal in advance of the upcoming election. it lasts 10 minutes, then normal night sounds resume. On the way back to the island we are passed by a hoard of protesters who had been banging their pots near the government buildings, still banging and chanting. Then quiet once more.

One young man we encountered, an old friend, was excited about the protest, and showed me his identity card as evidence he could and would vote. Others shake their heads… “la politic”…It seems July 31, election day, may prove to be interesting.

We learned that one of Robbie’s karate protégés, Abdou, succeeded with his first belt grading. This was announced with so much pride. The other three will get the chance to grade next time, Insha’Allah. We cannot wait to see them and practice together at the dojo. 

The talibé karateka will come to the center for class tomorrow morning. But, we have learned, and they have yet to learn that classes tomorrow will be postponed. Instead a nationally televised presentation will take place highlighting terrible conditions in the daaras, and training for how to help improve conditions to stop the spread of disease. Karate will have to wait until Friday.

As we were were about to call it a night, a soft knock on the door. We stayed up until well past midnight talking with our friend Cheikh. He is a local cobbler who has committed himself in his own way, and in so doing has involved us and Maison de la Gare, toward ending forced begging in Senegal, of talibés from the region of his village of origin. His project has become a great success. But with every success, new stories come to light, with issues to solve. This is a big one. Too much to write about tonight. I doubt I will sleep tonight.