Sharing

Our group toured the Monument de la Renaissance Africaine on Friday, the huge North Korean built statue to the east of Dakar on Friday afternoon. As we were leaving and I was doing what a fellow Fulbrighter referred to as "herding"(counting my colleagues), a swarm of students descended upon the parking lot after some kind of field trip. One little girl ran up to me and shook my hand warmly. I managed to squeeze off this shot of some kids sharing the responsibilities of breakdown and cleanup.

 

And I'll tell you something else you such and such good for nothing...

 

Kay's( a fellow participant) Google photo site. She takes wonderfully candid photos of the group as we move from Boston to Dakar.

https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipNxWh2dSW4RXi09svZBwdpmq0fSV1YumAsJvysxa0LQBPJ2wdWeH8FJEpqNSfm1XA?key=Q1RqMDN0QVpkZC1OaVNYWTRYcjZwQWV5VkhLSjlB

 

 

A form of public transport

 

 

 

What about this?

Saturday evening, my roommate was taking off his shoes and exclaimed....."that did not just happen did it?"
I looked up and he was staring somewhat dejectedly at his black dress shoe. As he'd removed it, the body had partially separated from the sole. He had only a pair of sneakers as back-up.(Not that you can't replace virtually anything in Dakar---this teeming city of 3+ million has it all.) We sort of both quickly came to the conclusion that somebody could likely fix this rather quickly----thus he went down to the front desk of the hotel and asked the fellow there if something could be done. The guy immediately took the shoe out the front door, shouted, "Ablei"! Someone materialized out of the hustle and bustle of the evening, grabbed the shoe, and vanished. My roommate was told he would get a call when it was ready. (Incidentally, as I write this at 1:50pm Dakar time, the call to prayer is resonating through the streets. This never fails to impress upon me that I am somewhere exotic and transformative. It is almost always beautiful.) Around 11pm, the room phone rings and B., my roommate,  is summoned downstairs. The shoe is ready. I think he pays around $8 or about 4,000 CFAs----apparently an interesting negotiation. "How much do I owe you?" You are my friend, what will you pay me? How does 3,000 CFA sound?" The repairman's face apparently registers some disappointment. Another 1,000 is added. Deal.

Both of us remarked that this shoe would be in the trash back home. It is another part of this world that seems more logical. More efficient. More human. Would we be better off if we could do this in the US as easily? Do we already have this as a possibility but simply do not avail ourselves?

Bread vendor, Dakar

 

 

 

Shopping Sunday May 29

Went for a bit of shopping today with Ablei and a few members of our group. Ablei(sp?) is an independent linguist consultant who is doing some work with the WARC(West African Research Center). He speaks 5 languages---among others, French, English, Wolof, Portuguese. He works very hard for several different organizations, translating etc. Several people wanted to visit a fabric and clothing market near our hotel in Plateau. This is all housed in a large labyrinth of little cells in a huge warehouse like building. One is incessantly badgered by individual craft and trinket sellers and must get used to the "non merci". I had many little conversations with people that were relatively friendly but one quickly gets a hardened attitude. Most of the group expanded through the building negotiating with Ablei's assistance. Whether or not I agree, we are very much encouraged to travel in small groups with someone from BU or WARC. My roommate, an anthropologist from Kennesaw State University, and I pretty much hung around outside the building, relaxing and chatting until I realized we couldn't see our group anymore. One young fellow recognized my minor concern and in English calmly told me they'd gone upstairs. I tell him he's a good man and he smiles broadly telling me I am an even better man. Very kind. We then entered the labyrinth and sorted out the location of the stairs. There are sewing machines and stacks of colorful fabric everywhere. Lots of people are popping out of little warrens in all directions. Bits of fabric litter the floor and people are engaging you on many levels...touting, smiling, conversing, questioning. As we wait, a young man walks up with a tattered folder and proceeds to open it and establish a conversation. He is a student from the somewhat independence minded Casamance region that is isolated a bit geographically from the North of Senegal by the country of The Gambia. He makes wonderful collages made of butterfly wings(I know it sounds horrible but wait for it....) glued with Baobab tree sap. We believe him when he says this is collected from dead butterflies/moths that mate and only live for a few days. I buy 2 of them----birds...a crane and some kind of bowerbird representation and my friend gets one of his own. Our group also descends upon us as he is leaving and he does very well suddenly---selling many collages. There is a slightly heartbreaking look of envy on the face of one of the young women hawking bead necklaces/bracelets. She's been tracking us for a while and I've been saying no. I quietly beckon her over and by an inexpensive little necklace of seemingly plastic beads. She smiles at me and says "Thank you father..."Another one of those moments when   I realize how old I really am. A half our later we are back on the street, returning to the hotel for something to eat. My roomie stops to buy a couple of Kola nuts on the street---we try them and are not impressed with the taste. Apparently they are some sort of digestif----something I seem to be in need of quite often most everywhere so we'll see.....