Weekend at Fadiouth and Riu Baobab

A few hours drive south of Dakar is Fadiouth seashell island.  The island grew out of piles of shells collected from the seafood harvested in the surrounding waters.  It is accessible by a footbridge and has walkways of crushed shells with no cars allowed.  Astride the shells, the islanders pride themselves on their religious tolerance.  The charming cemetery's Muslim and Christian sections blend right into each other with only the names and iconography on the gravestones differentiating them. 

Manny and Erica at Fadiouth Cemetery

After touring the island and opting for a rowboat ride back to the mainland, we treated ourselves to the luxury of Riu Baobab hotel.  Moving between the 24-hour bar, multiple swimming pools, and extensive food buffet, the hours passed quickly.  The highlight for me was the water slides!  Manny and I may have been the only adults sliding without kids, but I felt no shame.  First, the slides were so fast they really were not for the faint of heart!  And why would I want to deny myself the massive grin that each ride gave me?

Slide time!

Away from all the manmade amenities, we reveled in the beach.  The warm water had gentle swells perfect for lazily bobbing in the water.  The private beach was also clean and mercifully free of vendors.  We had taken a gamble on this trip during the rainy season, but had an excellent adventure of culture, activity, and sun in one fun weekend!

Loving the beach!

Toubab Dialaw

One of the joys of living in Dakar is how easy it is to go to the beach!  In addition to beaches right in the city, a short drive brings you to a number of nearby beach towns.  Recently, I visited one called Toubab Dialaw.  I started my afternoon with cocktails and grilled fish at a beachside restaurant.  I stayed several hours at the beach, relaxing, reading, and people-watching alongside others enjoying a beautiful summer afternoon.

Swimmers at Toubab Dialaw Beach

As the sun began to set, I made my way to my hotel, the quirky Sobo Badè.  The compound is comprised of multiple buildings decorated with extensive mosaics and topped with thatched dome roofs.  Wandering the grounds was a visual adventure all its own!  I reached my room by climbing an exterior spiral staircase.  And I fell asleep to the calming rhythm of the waves breaking just below me.

Sobo Badè Hotel

The following morning, I had a leisurely breakfast and enjoyed more of the ambience of Sobo Badè.  The hotel is perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean, offering a more serene experience than the bustling beach the day before.  Too soon, I had to leave the tranquility and return to Dakar.  But I will savor the memories of my quick beach getaway!

The perfect archway for selfies!

Car Accident

Something I have feared since moving overseas has finally come to pass…I was in a car accident with a motorcycle.  More specifically, a motorcycle ran into me.

 

Last Saturday night, I was coming home after having dinner with a friend.  As I approached my house, I signaled my left turn and began slowing down.  My front tires had already reached my driveway when I was shocked by an impact, followed by the burst of the driver’s side airbags.  My shock turned to horror as I saw a figure fly through the air outside the driver’s side window.

 

I turned off the engine, and slowly climbed out the passenger door, wondering what awaited me on the driver’s side, which had been obscured by the airbag.  I found the motorcycle driver lying on the ground, awake, but not moving much, surrounded by a group of guys.  Of course, he was not wearing a helmet.  I didn’t see any blood, but a goose egg was already forming on his forehead.

 

I signaled to my guard that I was ok, while he got on his phone to notify authorities.  Then we waited what felt like forever, but was really only 25 minutes, for the ambulance.  The EMTs walked/carried the driver to the ambulance and drove away.  As soon as that happened, the remaining guys grabbed their motorcycles, including the one that hit me, and left.  My guard explained to me that the motorcycle had no license plate, the driver had no ID, and the guys wanted nothing to do with the police who were on their way to us.

 

The police arrived another 20 minutes later.  They looked at all my documents while I painstakingly spelled out my name, my mother’s name, and my father’s name for them.  They also scolded me for being out late because it wasn’t safe, a comment which had everything to do with sexism and nothing to do with public safety.  Without the other party there, they didn’t have a lot to investigate and soon left.

 

I suppose in some way, I was the victim of a hit and run, which seems weird to say.  I am physically unharmed, but my car is not and I will have to sink significant time and money into repairing the damage.  On the other hand, in a place where guilt is not always justly assigned, the silence of the motorcycle driver spares me any possibility of misplaced blame.  It is unsettling not to know his condition and I certainly don’t wish him further harm, but it’s better than being pulled into an unjust scenario of having to pay his medical expenses for an accident he recklessly caused.

Can't open the door, but hoping it can be fixed

Ngor Beach Cleanup

Dakar is located where the western-most point of the African continent meets the Atlantic Ocean.  Dakar has dozens of beaches, but the impressive waves often crash onto sand marred by trash.  Beach cleanups are common and for Earth Day, I joined one at Ngor Beach.

Gotta start the day with a speech!

The cleanup was organized by Grow Green Natange, a project to strengthen environmental conservation in Dakar.  I arrived just in time to catch the opening speeches, which were passionate, if a bit lengthy.  Once the speeches were out of the way, we received vests and gloves and set off to the clean-up location.

Cleaning among the rocks

Beyond supplying trash bags for water bottles and food wrappers, the organizers provided shovels and rakes.  The shovels were used to dislodge boulders that had trash trapped underneath, including discarded fishing nets that had snared all types of debris.  Rakes were indispensable in pulling out litter floating in tidal pools around the rocks.

Erica with Fulbrighter Joelle

It was smelly, dirty work.  I choked back a gag reflex on a few occasions.  But I helped fill dozens of trash bags alongside others, including the current group of Americans in Senegal on a Fulbright exchange program.  Satisfyingly, the beach was visibly cleaner than when we arrived.

Clean beach lined with pirogue boats

Observing Senegal's Election

After a tumultuous seven-week political crisis where Senegal's elections were postponed, debated, and rescheduled 3 times, voters went to the polls on March 24 to elect Senegal's next president.  Anxious for the conclusion of this unprecedented turn of events, analysts were watching closely to see if democracy would win the day.  I had a front row seat as an accredited election observer. 

Voters line up outside a polling station

At each polling station I visited, there were 4 poll workers plus an official from the national voting agency as well as representatives from the candidates' political parties.  This presidential election had 19 candidates, but the polling stations I observed only had 3-5 reps from the most prominent parties.  That adds up to a minimum of 7 people in the room before counting any voters (or my observation team.)

My observation team with the mayor

Much of the voting process was on display for this audience.  As each voter entered, they handed their ID to the poll worker holding the official registration list.  The worker read the name out loud for the others in the room to confirm against their copy of the registration list.  The voter than proceeded to a table with 19 paper ballots laid out, a separate one for each candidate.  In full view of the room, voters were instructed to pick up between 5-19 candidate ballots to take with them into the secret ballot booth.

An enthusiastic voter submits his ballot

In the ballot booth, which was usually a simple black curtain hung in the corner, the voter finally had privacy to seal their chosen candidate's ballot in a voting envelope and throw the remaining ballots in the trash can.  After emerging from behind the curtain, the voter placed the envelope into the ballot box before signing the voting registry and dipping their finger in indelible ink.

A voter signs the registry

For an American, this sounds like a lot of steps in front of a lot of people.  But the voters I observed were not fazed.  They calmly executed their civic duty, with turnout hovering around 60%.  After weeks of legitimate hand-wringing and lamentations that democracy was dying in Senegal, voters showed that they indeed had the power to revive their democracy and would not shirk from that duty.  Americans, kindly take note, come November.

Future voters enjoying election day 

Car Rapide Tour

In Dakar, the car rapide used to be a predominate mode of public transportation.  These brightly-painted minibuses are now being replaced by more modern buses.  But you can still hail them around town or join a car rapide sightseeing tour.  I chose the latter.

Just hanging off the back of the car rapide!

The first stop on our tour was to see traditional weaving.  I watched in admiration as a father-son team worked in perfect silent and in perfect rhythm to create a table runner at a roadside loom.  And I came home with a colorful new table runner of my own.

Weaving duo

Further along on the tour, we stopped at a religious school where the students proudly recited the alphabet in Arabic and counted in Wolof (Senegal's dominant local language).  Sadly, the curriculum did not include French or English, so our communication was limited to smiles and handshakes.

Look at that grin!

Fatigued by our literacy lesson, we re-fortified ourselves with a tea break before reaching our last stop, the Grand Mosque.  We timed our visit perfectly because we had just enough time to view the stunning chandeliers and look up at the minarets from the inner courtyard before the call to prayer sounded and we needed to vacate.

Grand Mosque

Seeing Dakar from the open windows of a car rapide was an entertaining, if not comfortable, experience.  I'll continue to rely on my own car for my regular transportation needs.  But I've now caught some of the fondness the city has for these colorful vehicles. 

Did you see that?

Expectations of Dakar

As I flew across the Atlantic from Washington, DC to Dakar, Senegal, I jotted down my thoughts on what might be awaiting me over the next three years:  

1. In many ways, I’m struggling to know what to expect.  Dakar has been called the “Paris of West Africa,” yet many argue that title is overblown.  Senegal is very much a developing country.  Therefore keeping expectations low and being pleasantly surprised seems like the best approach.
2. I may have to guard against comparing Senegal to my first Foreign Service experience in Kenya in East Africa.
3. For the first time in my foreign service career, I will be able to enjoy local peanut butter.
4. Even though I’ll be living in Africa, I’ll be breaking out pants and light sweaters during Senegal’s winter season.
5. Eventually, I will feel confident in saying I’m fluent in French.
6. Taking full advantage of tailors, I will acquire a dozen new outfits in fabulous African patterns.
7. I will confront America’s role in the slave trade from an entirely new perspective.
8. I expect to witness a tolerant form of Islam, with unique Senegalese influence.
9. Hopefully, I will add some new activity to my wheelhouse.  Maybe surfing or sand volleyball, due to Dakar’s coastal location?

One thing's for sure:  I'm excited to move overseas and chronicle my adventures in this blog! 

Dakar's Monument de la Renaissance