Senegal: Strong and Thankful

A quick recap of our trip to... Senegal! This is more than a little over due but I haven't had quality internet access since we got back.

Senegal was never a country high on my agenda to visit during my time in Burkina. But! When a PCV mentioned there was going to be a jazz festival in St. Louis, Senegal in a month, I knew I was going. And- whoa- what a lucky conversation to fall into! The whole trip left us giddy and jacked, but also a little worried that Burkina had apparently made us so weirdly appreciative after just 8 months.

On the ferry to Goree Island. Historically a port where 20,00 slaves were sold and later a French military base. Now it is a beautiful art filled island (Key West meets French colonial) and is home to Senegal's number one school for girls 

After arriving in Dakar, being blown away by the sea, CLEAN streets, and restaurants with salad (I really, really miss salad), we tried to comfort ourselves that “Hey, its okay, we live in Burkina Faso, 'Land of the Upright People'. Sure they may have a variety of salad dressings but at least our people are nice.” And, yes, while Burkinabe are nice, Senegalese are absolutely incredibly kind and welcoming as well. Throughout the trip we had people go out of their way, at their own expense to help us out.

For example: Our first night out was shockingly fun, from free appetizers and free drinks, to Natalie easing her way into the DJ booth and giving us music to last till 4am. At the end of all that, we decided to just grab our things from the Senegal PCV Transit House, jump on the first bus and head up to St. Louis right away.

Emma, me, Natalie, Hallie, and Amber

Except... bus stations may be the one thing Burkina has over Senegal. Our taxi driver, Mustapha, instead took us to this parking lot full of beat up station wagons, men and dogs swarm the car, and one guy is insisting if we get in his car right now he'll personally drive us up there. NO. We flat out refused to leave his taxi, told him this was unacceptable, and demanded to be taken to a bus stop. Our driver didn't speak that much French so he drives us to his friend (who conveniently worked at a late night burger place, seriously, perfect things like that all week!) to help us out and translate. Musapha then drives around Dakar stopping on the highway at random buses, runs out, checks where they're going, and keeps driving and searching.

Solid late night burgers with our driver

All of that time we were greatly appreciative. We recognized how awkward it must be for him to have four American women refusing to get out of his car or take his advice. He was stuck with us, but he made sure we got where we needed to go. It became comical how unreasonable we were when we later learned that the main sort of public transports really are “Sept/Seven Plus”, station wagons that drive you all around the country. Which is exactly what he took us to the first time around before we threw an outrage and declared he find something more appropriate.

"Sept Plus" wagons, heading back down to Dakar after the festival. 

Our trip was full of kind, helpful people, with one exception: Awa, the landlord of our squatter hotel in St. Louis. Since we were on a continual cloud nine the first 36 hours, when Awa informed us we didn't have to camp on the roof after all but could sleep in the big bedroom, we thought our praises for Senegal were never going to end. She shows us the room, and we are so psyched to get to stay there. It wasn't until after we got back from dinner that the golden haze of our vacation induced euphoria had been sedated that we began to recognize what a complete joke our room was. No running water half the time, no trash can, no bed frames, not enough blankets, just mattresses thrown on the ground in a room with a weird faux wood finish, plaster holes in the wall, and flies. SO many flies. Once we recognized how scammed we were getting, we lost it. But instead of stating how unacceptable everything was, we uncontrollably laughed that night. And continued to laugh throughout the trip whenever something arose to make us we recognize how weirdly, disproportionately, inappropriately appreciative we had become after just 8 months in Burkina.

A joke, right? But when we first saw it we were so ecstatic we truly thought our luck in Senegal was never ending . 

Affected? Burkina Faso, being the poorest country PC operates within, has clearly augmented what comforts I anticipate for my daily life. Thus the obvious down side: a country lacking so many of the basics and beauty that Senegal had will be my life for the next year and half. I hadn't truly realized what I was missing until I saw it again. The plus side? What became our motto of the trip: We (PCV in Burkina Faso) are Strong and Thankful people. Meaning: living with marches/markets that only sell mangoes and onions for the next three months causes a day visit to my regional capital for a mediocre salad with a mayonnaise based dressing to be my gastronomical highlight for the next week because here, in Burkina, you take what you can get, when you can get it. And hell yeah I'm going to speak up and tell you want I need- try getting your bike on a bus that is jammed pack, while it is still moving, 40 people are swarming around, and no one will listen to your muddled attempt at French and Moore! 

So not only was Senegal (St. Louis and Dakar) an incredibly fun trip with my friends, it also produced our rally cry and our meditative mantra to support us as we keep going through our time here in hot, bare boned, but land of really nice people, Burkina Faso.

: D