Over before it started et les voleurs de Dakar

This past week was my vacation. Overall, it was fantastic. However, it was fast and it was short.

My sister arrived on Sunday, early morning, round 4:30 am, without any incident. We crashed till about noon, toured Dakar, and then made sure to sleep well that night.

Monday, we traveled to Fatick. We spent the day there, visiting a few co-workers, refusing multiple marriage proposals (although the offer of 60 cows was tempting). We saw the market place in Fatick, and we made a visit with Betty Reno and Laura, the two ex-pats with whom I've spent a lot of time over the past 5 months.

Tuesday, off we went to the village of Thiouthioune. I think Jozina got a better sense of what village life is like. Hot, dry, slow, and if you don't speak the local language, even more slow and boring than it would be if you at least speak French. But French doesn't cross all barriers either. Regardless, she wasn't too much a fan of the couscous, nor of the couscous with sweetened sour milk. She could live without 'atiya', the local Senegalese tea, and Café Touba wasn't a real thriller either. While she did eat the Djebu Jen (fish and rice), the fish was bought by me and thus a higher quality than is usual in the villages. And overall, I think she cut down a bit on her eating (although her appetite was also pretty low given the heat)

We ended up returning to Fatick at night, slowly wandering our way through the fields (following the sandy trails, mind you), directed by a few of the local teachers who caught a ride to Fatick from us. They provided the orientation, so that was a pretty good trade off.

Wednesday was a day of good and bad. The Bandia Reserve was excellent. Romping through the reserve, chasing after Giraffes and Rhinoceros. Couldn't do something like that at the African Lion Safari. Some good sites, some good pics.
On arriving in Ndagane, however, that's when things turned sour. Already tired from the day, frustrated by all the annoying negotiating one has to do in order to get somewhere and in order not to pay an unjust price, when we arrived at the hotel, I wasn't impressed. The pool wasn't that great, things were unkempt. Our room was dirty when we entered, and then, when we did switch rooms, they (I'm not kidding you) locked us in our room. After 5 minutes of pounding on the window pane, finally someone came. They said we had the key, we never even touched it, said they'd go try to find this lost second pair, and so we waited. And waited. While they had given us the spare key, we were mostly waiting for an apology. But, there was none. In fact, when we went out briefly to see how things were coming along, we found them all sitting around a table, talking away. So, that was the end of our stay at Les Cordons Bleus. Never to be recommended to anyone by me. At 80 USD a night, I would have expected to be treated by royalty, given that this is even a price charged in a place like Senegal.
The French can be so arrogant sometimes.

So, we jumped over to the simple, quaint hostel beside the hotel. Much, much simpler, half the price (even though on some level it wasn't worth that price either). But, the staff made all the difference. Bought us orange juice in the morning when we requested it, offered to go get and prepare our lunch on the Thursday, drove us into town with all of our luggage when we left Thursday evening. The main manager was a great guy.

5 hours after leaving the hostel, we finally arrived, tired and cramped from our ride in a 7 place station wagon, in Dakar. Crashed at New Tribes Mission. Probably my preferred resting spot in Dakar. Some great services included in the low price of 4600 CFA / night. Can't be beat.

And today, well, overall, today was great. Although, I'm sad to say I didn't do my job very well. We overpaid for a few key items we bought. Still, I think that it would probably take me about 1 year to get it all figured out. And even then there would be things that surprise me.

It was a pretty long day wandering around the markets of Dakar, continually shrugging off pestery sellers and occasionally thankfully avoiding scuffles after being called racist and being told that I should leave the market and go home to Canada by upset sellers, who, by the way, 20 minutes later, wanted to sell me something (losers). It can be tiring having to put up with their scheming and scamming.

All the same, en route to the French Cultural Centre in the evening, after the markets, I am content to report that I successfully fought off being stolen from.
There were 3 guys, all 'selling' things. Except, they stated pretty normal, acceptable prices. Clue number 1. Clue number 2. They were too happy. Number 3. They started grabbing my shorts, saying, wow, those are great shorts, great shoes etc. Then they started tugging and swishing my shorts. It was odd. And then they stopped. And in the back of my mind, something started wondering. I checked my pockets, and I had been checking my pockets during this time anyways. But, I double checked. We were about 15 seconds down the road, however, and they started really going at my shorts. I was like, 'what the heck are you doing?' All my senses on high, knowing that something was going down. And then, in the middle of their shaking and tugging my shorts, there was a hand reaching into my pocket . . .

And then there was me, shoving my hand against the third guy, pushing and shoving him into the side of the building at the side of the road. And then I went for his neck. Hand on his neck, my face burning, my eyes flashing, my adrenaline pumping, my heart burning so hard with anger, frustration, and fatigue of all that is sometimes Senegal. Of people who never stop asking for your money when sometimes I believe they should be working for it. Of people who state one price and then fail to live up to it. Of people who see white and only think of money. Of people who are as happy to sell you something as they are angry when you actually know the real price and simply cut to the chase.

Given the events of the day, and my level of frustration, this attempt by this 3 guys placed the piece of straw that broke the camels back. And I blew up. I yelled at that guy in English so hard, and drove at him so quickly. I didn't care what the other two were doing because I knew if I confronted this guy hard and forcefully, the other two would leave me alone or risk their friend being seriously injured if I started throwing punches.

At any rate, I shoved him away, yelling at him some more, threatened them not to come near me, and not to touch me again. And then I stormed off.

As odd as it might sound, I was thoroughly content. A little frightened perhaps, but there was a bunch of angst against some cultural stress that had been building up that was unleashed in those few moments. I let out against personal frustrations, against cultural nuisances, and against past failures. Against a time I was beat up (mildy) outside a bar in Guelph, against times in my life (grade school, high school, and even in university) when I've just stood there taking a beating or being threatened with one, instead of standing up for myself. It was a chance, finally, to simply show that I had had enough. These boys just picked the wrong time.

And so no, no one was hurt, and no one got into a fight. I just made it perfectly clear I wasn't going to stand there and get messed with.

So, that was an exciting event of this evening.

And so off we went to the French Cultural Centre. Watched a drum show. It was fantastic.

And then it was over. And then I had to go back with Jozina back to the hostel, to pack up our things, to make our way to the airport. As I write, it's 2:00 am. She will be flying out of the airport in just 1/2 hr's time. So, our time was well spent, but also very short. We did a whirlwind tour of all that is Senegal, and I think she got a good sense of what the country is like in just a few short days.

And, today is a day to mark on the calendar. In 5 weeks time, exactly to the date, I'll be back in Canada. You might be able to pick up in the post that things have been tough at times. There's a lot to have to deal with overseas sometimes. Overall, it's been a good and worthwhile experience. I'm very much looking forward to the next 5 weeks, and extremely curious to know where it all leads at the end.

But, I am looking forward to certain aspects of home. Of coffee at Starbucks or Tims. Of cold. Of snow. Of relaxing days and evenings when things just 'are' and I don't have to think so much.

Still, there is an energy in the rush, tug, push, and pull of working overseas. If I can find something properly suited for me, I'll want to find myself somewhere else in the world in the future. Perhaps even Senegal, despite all the ups and downs.

Only time will tell, and for now, I'll just work on these next 5 weeks . . .