Sine Saloum

For two nights during our weekend trip to the Senegal River delta, S. and I stayed on a small island in an ecolodge called Keur Bamboung, which is run collectively by the residents of 14 nearby villages. It was a beautiful place, composed of several grass-and-brick huts nestled in the midst of one tiny village (pictured in third photo from the top; the second photo from the top is of "our" hut), which is a 30-minute walk, 20-minute pirogue ride, and 40-minute horse-cart ride from Toubakouta (which is already fairly remote). We pulled in to the village around midnight, exhausted but elated to have arrived after utilizing all of Senegal's major modes of travel in one long voyage. It was completely dark outside, with only a few solar-powered lights within the lodge coming into view as we came in (there's no electricity on the delta islands). After scarfing down dinner, we collapsed into our mosquito-netted beds in our incredibly charming personal hut - which had a water-tank and its own solar-powered light in addition to furniture made entirely of dried grass - only to wake the next morning at sunrise to the raucous sound of zillions of different types of birds.

Keur Bamboung was, in fact, idyllic. In the morning we took a bare-foot hike through the mangrove swamps, guided by one of the villagers, Mamfana (pictured at bottom), who showed us the three different local species of mangrove and how oysters and muscles cling to their exposed roots. Before lunching on fresh local fish, we swam lazily and dozed on the tiny sandy beach right in front of our hut - and then in the afternoon, at high tide when the water had submerged all the areas where we had previously been able to wade, we took a canoe ride around the mangrove swamps, sighting a large pelican and several dug-out holes inhabited by hyenas. (Luckily no actual hyenas were spotted.) The proceeds from the lodge go towards training and paying former fishermen in the 14 associated villages to act as anti-poaching guards, thereby creating a large-ish sized region where fishing is prohibited. This has, according to the villagers, allowed fish stocks all around to rebound, since the mangroves are where many species go to spawn. There are beautiful hand-crafted signs all over the village and surrounding areas documenting resurgent marine species, including a very reclusive type of manatee that has only been spotted once or twice. Meanwhile the thick mixture of mangroves, baobabs, and palm trees rustle constantly with life, though only a few birds allowed themselves to be seen. Luckily this mix included several giant herons and a flock of slim green parrots as well as birds of bright orange and electric blue.

Can't wait to go back.

On the Road

This weekend I left the Dakar peninsula behind and set off, with my friend S., to the Sine Saloum - the beautiful region of Senegal where the Senegal River delta bleeds into the ocean, forming thousands of islets of sand, mangroves, and varying degrees of salty-fresh water beloved of oysters, breeding fish, and colorful sea-birds.

The road trip was half the adventure. We traveled by bush-taxi, one of the ubiquitous gray station wagons known here as "taxis sept-place" because they cram in seven passengers in addition to the driver. (See top photo.) After finding a sept-place headed to our destination of Toubakouta in Dakar's gigantic "gare routiere" (taxi depot) at 3:30pm, we waited for an hour before the driver had signed on all seven passengers, then sat for another 2 hours in the slow crawl of traffic out of the bottlenecked single road out of town.

Then, however, we were on open road for four hours, whizzing through the regional hubs of Thies and Kaolack, past road-side tea-stalls, mango stands, rice-and-sauce purveyors, and multi-function boutiques. We were dropped off on the pitch-dark roadside next to Toubakouta at 10:30pm, the brightly-lit milky way twinkling overhead in the moonless night.

L'Ile de Ngor

My new favorite place.

Dakar traffic got you down? Sick of the hustle-bustle of city life? Want to soak your feet in the sea and sip fanta by a peaceful beach, but don't want to brave the traffic involved in getting out of Dakar altogether? Pick your way through the crowded village of Ngor, stroll along the beach to the far end, buy yourself a 500 CFA ($1) round-trip ticket on a fishing boat from the very efficient (a word I don't use lightly) embarcadaire, and zip out to l'Ile de Ngor, an incredibly charming get-away that's only about 200 meters off the northern Dakar coast.

The trip itself prepares you for adventure - you crowd into a long, hand-painted pirogue, slightly jostled by high school kids and families looking to escape the city for the softest sand and most swimmable water in town (the narrow strait between the isle and the coast is free of the treacherous currents that are otherwise common around here). At this point you're wearing a bright-orange lifejacket, which feels like an unimaginable formality in chaotic Senegal. One smooth motored ride (about 10 minutes not counting loading and offloading) later, and you're on a tiny island (25 minutes to circumambulate at a slow stroll), criss-crossed by narrow pathways between white villas and edged by beaches and grilled fish. My two fellow Ngor travelers and I settled into a beachside cafe, under a canvas awning, and feasted on grilled carp and gazelle beer (which reminds me of Indian Kingfisher - that is, light and somewhat flavorless, but delicious when cold), followed by the strong sugary tea that is the Senegalese equivalent of an after-lunch espresso. Perhaps as close to paradise as one could hope for.

La Plage de Ngor

Some pictures of the beach at Ngor, about a 20-minute walk from my apartment in Almadies. The village of Ngor - like Yoff, a fishing village along the northern coast of the peninsula that now bleeds into Dakar proper - is charming and gritty, with tightly-packed sand-filled streets and a calm oasis of a mosque, with open sides and a smooch concrete floor. You trudge through the village, past electronics stores and rapidly loading cars rapides (this is their main terminus), and then suddenly emerge onto the wide open beach, where all of the pirogues look newly painted, and boys wade their sheep into the sea to give them a good scrubbing. (Wish I had pictures of this. The rams, with their big curved horns, looked quite affronted.)

Almadies

Some pictures of my new neighborhood, Almadies... Dignified and spacious, dotted with large tree-surrounded houses, Almadies still has miles of rocky coastline and a very popular mini-beach (middle picture, with the giant Mamelles lighthouse in the distance). While I may complain that everything is more expensive and less convenient in Almadies (because of its association with expats and the fact that many residents have cars and therefore don't need to do all of their shopping within a 200-meter radius), it's a beautiful spot, dotted with outdoor grilled-fish stands and popular with Dakar's budding surfer scene.

Also, in the lowest photo, you'll notice the newest development in Dakar weather: clouds. Yes, the past week or so has featured several overcast mornings, delightfully cool and breezy, though no real rain yet. Everyone is waiting with baited breath - though this desire to see an end of sun and blue sky must come with time in Dakar; I for one don't feel ready.

Toubab Diallaw

It's been a while since I last posted... I find it's very difficult to take pictures in Dakar, since taking my camera around makes me feel - and look - like a tourist (with all the accompanying harassment, attention, street kid curiosity, etc.) rather than the hardened resident I'd like to picture myself as. (The good thing about brown curly hair is that there is a chance of being mistaken for a Lebanese local - the Lebanese, who seem to run all the major businesses in Senegal, are widely hated for being a financially privileged minority, but at least they aren't French backpackers.)

So it's a treat to go somewhere like Toubab Diallaw, the sleepy little seaside village where I day-tripped last Sunday. Toubab Diallaw - weirdly meaning "white guy Diallaw," and possibly originally named after a slave-trader - is a popular weekend get-away for Dakarois who want to escape the city, hang out on the (gorgeous) beach, and generally kick back. It's about an hour and a half from Dakar, mostly on nice roads that go through mango groves and past gigantic baobab trees. I went down with S., a fellow grad student; and her Senegalese friend M. (who is certain he saw one of the players on Senegal's national soccer team lounging by the pool of one of the more swanky Toubab Diallaw auberges). The beach alongside T.D. itself is beautiful and heavily utilized - lots of soccer, wrestling tournaments, teenaged flirtation, and seaside restaurants. We parked ourselves on the beach about a kilometer down the coast from the town itself, where it was completely deserted, and where S. negotiated the use of a beachfront terrace from the staff of a closed-down hotel. (It was an odd arrangement but pretty perfect.)

The red sand-filled streets were pretty deserted on a Sunday, so we had to go on quite an expedition to find lunch. In town there are plenty of options, but down where we were (a long hot walk from the main hub) we were finally thrilled to find a local "restaurant" - really just a large house where one woman cooks up a big dish of tieboudienne for anyone who might pass by. (There is no menu, and no other options. Thank goodness tieboudienne - a combination of white fish stuffed with spices, tomato-ey fried rice, and cooked eggplant, turnip, cabbage, and carrot - is delicious.) We ate on the fabulous shaded rooftop - with a great view of the town between the household's drying laundry - which was surprisingly cool and breezy, and the matriarch sent a younger member of the family down the road to bring back a box of cold fruit juice from the village store. Lunch was served on Senegalese time - maybe an hour and a half after we sat down; as S. joked, enough time to catch and cook the fish - but was well worth it.

One of the coolest things about T.D. was the resident "wildlife" (wild to me that is, but apparently run-of-the-mill for locals). First of all, there were several types of large lizard, including an incredible variety with blue and green streaks (see photo). Plus, we saw all sorts of great birds - the coast of Senegal is a major stop-over for just about all migrating European and African birds - including purple swallows, many tiny colorful warblers or finches, white egrets, at least one pelican (!), and the charming yellow weaver-birds that are pictured above.

On the way home we stopped at a roadside mango stand where seven elderly women sat, each with a different variety of mango piled in front of her. Bought a gigantic pile to bring home.

** CORRECTION **

In the photos of Yoff below, I mistakenly identified ambiant sheep as goats. As I now know, if the ears and tail point down, it's a sheep - regardless of the fact that the sheep here don't grow anything resembling wool. (Which I guess makes sense given the climate.) Also, as one Dakarois who keeps sheep on his rooftop explained to me, "un mouton ca fait 'baaah,' mais une chevre ca fait 'beeeh.'" Indeed.

Daytrip to Yoff

On Sunday I took a daytrip to Yoff, a "village" that lies along the northern shore of the Dakar peninsula, to visit U., a friend who I got to know when she was at Amnesty in London and I at CPJ. (I put "village" in quotation marks because Yoff feels more like a poorer, unpaved suburb of Dakar, though here the term is vague enough to be used for everything smaller than Senegal's main three cities.) U. is married to a Senegalese man whose family lives in Yoff, and the two of them share an apartment near the sea. To my delight, the day began with a delicious lunch of fish yassa (locally caught white fish roasted with onions and lemon juice), proceeded through a long walk on the beach, and ended with an elaborate preparation of mint tea at U.'s inlaws' home.

To get to Yoff you take the No. 8 bus from downtown (right around the corner from the apartment where I'm staying, in front of a ruined former movie theater and across the street from a posh air conditioned French-style pastry shop - Dakar's downtown truly is weird). An hour and a half, 175 CFA (35 cents), and some serious urban scenery later, you get off in the sandy streets of central Yoff. Immediately the ambiance is different from Dakar proper - people are much more laid back, and not a single person tries to hassle you to buy anything.

The town lies sprawled along the beach (see photos below), and many of its residents make their living from fishing. Additionally, the original community of Yoff is religiously and ethnically distinct from other Senegalese from the region (meaning those who lived in the area before it became a major urban center; today's cosmopolitan Dakar, which comprises people from all over Senegal and West Africa in addition to the expat community, can't really be said to have a main "ethnicity"). Those with deep roots in Yoff are known as the "layene," speak a particular dialect of Wolof, and follow a specific religious leader or "grand marabout"; marabouts head the "mourides," the Islamic brotherhoods that define much of Senegalese culture and lifestyle. (They're very hard to figure out from the outside however.) The descendent of the founder of the sect still lives in Yoff, in the beautiful seaside house pictured above.

All over Dakar there are murals depicting the founding Mourides on the walls of buildings, usually fairly schematic images in black and white. The ones in Yoff are particularly elaborate.