WAAW means YES!

Gorée is...fantastic. Paradisical. I went back there for a day with Sophie, where we spent a fabulously relaxed and chill day. Sophie and I caught the ferry around 10 am and immediately went looking for Mikaela as soon as we arrived. I met the infamous La Hadt, Monica's admirer while she was here. He's...absolutely gorgeous. I could just stare at his all the livelong day, especially when he's playing the djembe. Julia number 1 was also there for a bit, so we got to catch up. She's allergic to something - a reminder that we are indeed in Africa and need to watch out. We hang out at the port, sit in the sun and chill out. So nice not to have anything to do or anywhere to be. Julia takes the next ferry out bc she's ill,while Mikala and I decide to swim in the little harbor. Amadou and Mbaye come in the water with us and we swim all the way out next to the ferry to send Julia off. We find an old surfboard chillin out in the water and 6 of us try to climb on without tipping off. We all jump off the surfboard into the water . Then swim out to an old pirogue boat in the water, climb in and jump off. The entire ferry witnesses me and my pathetic upper body strength as I hopelessly try to hoist myself into the old boat .FAIL ! Swimming is so much fun and all the guys have such nice bodies, not gonna lie. We dry out on the beach and buy some necklaces from a local. We all share the BEST mango I will ever have, it was like eating pure candy. We hang out at the beach alllll day, talking with the local guys who are all about the same age. Mikala plays on her flute while Amadou taps his djembe - hey, its Irish-African music! Nice!
You can just tell that music and rhythm flows throug his blood and in his soul. So cool.He's SO happy when he's playing the djembe, just the biggest smile spread across his face. La Hadt, Samba and Babacar are all gorgeous, I cant stop staring!
And then the highlight of the night : the repetition, where all the guys get together and jam on the djembe while the local girls dance . This goes on for nearly 2 hours, and I dont know how to describe it except that you have to see it for yourself. La Hadt is the leader of the circle, with about 8 drums. Samba is on the big drums, and the rest of the guys play the djembe. Ten hot sweaty Senegalese men banging on the drums, by the ocean, with the sun setting in the background - have I died and gone to heaven????
Then the girls start in formation and do their crazy African dance routine, banging their heads back and forth and shaking their arms, legs, asses as if none of their limbs are actually attached. My foot was stamping the whole time. The surroundings are amazing - behind us is a big old abandoned building , with the sea crashing up right behind us. We take fun jumpîng pictures and walk up to the top of the hill, where the sound of the drums is even louder .
Once the drumming rep is over, we chill out at Alfa's place, where I actually find a HAMMOCK! My life is complete. This island is officially paradise.

Alhamdoulilah

Sunday I go chez Sophie; Magueye's wife hands up her son Cheikh to bring along for the ride to Amadou's. SO funny how different kids are treated here than the States. Nahadi hands us her 5 yr old son to take on two car rapides through the downtown city- no American mum would ever do that ! A word about transportation in Dakar - first, there's the bus, which is pretty regular but always packed . A few times I've held on for dear life with half by body in the rinkydink bus, with one arm and one leg hanging out the door. Next, there's the car rapide -oh, these are an adventure. First, the cars remind me of the ones I saw in India - crappy and beat up twister pieces of metal that have four wheels and carry 15 people (and spew out a black diesel fume) . A teenage guy hangs off the back ledge of the car rapide and hisses at people to give them a ride. Mikaela has ridden on the back of one, I rode on the back for about 2 minutes before I got kicked out. The inside is adorned in pictures of Cheikh Amadou Bamba (like an African Gandhi) and various spiritual guides that the Senegalese adore . On the front of every car rapide is written ALHAMDOULILAH (also my favorite word to say) , which in Arabic means 'Peace to God'. Im getting quite good at the salutations here :
-Salaamalekum!
-Malekumsalaam, nga def ?
-Ca va bien, ca va ?
-Oui ca va ! Alhamdoulilahi!
There's an expression in French that says "You're going like a Senegalese" because chez les Senegalais, things are ALWAYS going well. Non ca va pas is never a response to How's it going?
Next are the taxis, which take forever because haggling the price in French is about half the journey.
And last but not least are the clandos, short for clandestine, short in English for SHADY. These are the non-marked cars that are cheaper than taxis, and way more sketchier. How do you know it's a clando? Look for the realllly crappy cars, wave em down, ask em where they're goin and hop on it.

Sophie and I discuss how happy and accepting people are, especially thanks to the Islamic influence. I love how proud everyone is here of their country, something that you would rarely find in France . Mamy says she only likes Senegalese food and that Sénégal is Paradise on Earth. They are very proud of their country and of Africa in general. Another thing I've noticed here is that Islam/ Muslims dont talk about HELL/L'ENFER the way Christians do. It's not a concept in Islam the way it is in Christianity, ESPECIALLY Catholocism. For exemple, El Hadji says if you hurt someone, God will punish you, not that you will go to hell. People do right here and pray a lot, not so that they won't go to hell, but to prove their love to God.

We go chez Amadou for a bit, where he shows us pictures of his family, half of which is in Europe playing the djembes. His big bro who taught him how to play the djembe is so cool-looking, with long dreads and a sweet accent.

Afterwards, I go to El Hadji's house, where I salute everyone with the casual greetings. The salutation with all these guys is tapping their hand on your forehead four times, as a sign of respect. And then we shout "Bégué!" which means happiness. El Haji makes mint tea, a process that takes over an hour . Magueye tells me that to make tea and drink tea, you cant be in a rush. This is true. El Hadj makes the best mint tea because he adds a bit of cardamom seeds to it and makes a lot of mousse on top.

On my way home, my Congolese friend Michel is there waiting for me . I have NO idea how he found my house, because I dont even know where it is in the maze of this city, but he's there and waiting ! He's an acquaintance I've made through my friend Bruno in Paris, who lived with Michel for several months. Michel comes from Brazzaville Congo and has been playing the big tam-tams his whole life. He has awesome dreads that reach down to his waist, and he is a true Rastafarian . The next night we make dinner at his place, (a true Rasta is vegetarian) and he tells me all about Congo Brazzaville, about the Rastafarian religion and his respect for Bob Marley.
Bob Marley is HUGE here in Africa - I've learned so much about him. We even celebrated his birthday the 11 may. Africans are obsessed with him, his music and his message. Even though he was Jamaican, he identified a lot with Africans and sang "Africa Unite!" . Michel is very wise and has a lot to give, but I think he might have lost a marble or two. I cant decide. He is deeply distrustful of the Senegalese, especially after living in Dakar for over 3 years. I find they are a people who are generous and friendly, whereas he sees them as jealous and cheating.
He tells me all about his travels around West Africa, playing Congo drums and do traditional dance . I would love to go see his corner of Africa one day. We talk about raising money to build a community center for street kids that teaches traditional drums and dance.

The Island of Gorée

The island of Gorée is a fantastic getaway from the chaos and noise of Dakar. When I think of Gorée, I think of paradise, or even a Caribbean island where the doors and windows are vibrantly painted, and are always open; the bouganvillea hanging off the sides of the multicolored houses. The darker side of Gorée is that it was a major station point in the Atlantic Slave Trade, and thousands of slaves stolen from West Africa passed through here on their brutal voyage to America in inhuman conditions. Gorée is teh keyhole to the African continent following the insatiable thirst for slaves during the 18th and 19th century following the European discoveries. When we checked out the slave house, El Hadj showed me tiny rooms where hundreds of slaves were stored, cramped and chained to the floor. I cant even begin to imagine how terrible the conditions were between the journey from the Congo, Nigeria, Guinée, to the storage house and the months spent at sea, only to arrive in America or the Caribbean to work your ass off as a slave hauling cane sugar. Built in 1786 by the Dutch, they say that out of the 20 million Africans stolen and sent as slaves, only 300 per year went through Gorée. El Hadj got so upset being in there, and for good reason. Except then he tells me that it's thanks to Cheikh Amadou Bamba that Africans arent slaves anymore, and its him who put an end to the slave trade...right. Can't argue with someone who is deeply religious though.
The door that opens from the storeroom to the sea represents the "voyage with no return" for African slaves that would never see their homeland again. The whole thing breaks my heart.
As for the rest of Gorée, it might be my idea of heaven on earth. It has a bit of Caribbean island feel to it, but when you think about the Caribbean's cultural origins- IT's AFRICAN!
The houses are red, yellow, with the bouganvillea overflowing over the sides in brilliant violet colors. Gorean artists post up their paintings, necklaces and African masks for all to see. We meander through the quiet streets where there are no roads, no cars, just serenity and harmony. The beach and port has a big jetti where Rasta and Baye Falls fish for carps rouges. Children play soccer while listening to MBALAX music played by a local DJ. Four guys sit on the rocks out by the beach and bang on djembes while singing chants about Islam . Dreadlocked (and hot) Senegalese guys chill out on the beach and play music.
We meander through the streets and up the hilll to see the statue of the two pirogues; symbolizing peace. AKSILEM ak JAMM - please feel welcome and come in peace .
I meet a local artist who shows me his work and how he paints the abstract canvas of African scenes. He has a funny little cap and quirky glasses, and is covered head to toe in PAINT ! He casually mentions that he'll give me a good price, but is not aggressive like those in Dakar . Ive noticed that everyone here is chill and relaxed. Im invited to several little boutiques to look at beautiful necklaces and fabrics. Good thing I left all my money at home or I would probably buy EVERYTHING
The island is not big, but there are a lot of tourists. Everywhere you ho, you hear the ocean waves. Its an island paradise. I love the image of the colorful laundry hanging out to dry; with the waves crashing up on the rocks . CEST TROP BEAU!
El Hadji and I eat lunch at a friendly restaurant where the owners are friendly as can be - the cook has the biggest smile I have ever seen; and his white crisp shirt sets off the beauty of his dark skin. Later on, we cross someone who is eating the local fruit here 'madd' and she doesnt hesitate in offering it to us strangers. Some kid later on asks us for some of our water, and El Hadji doesnt hesitate either in giving him half . I have a LOT to learn from the Senegalese about generosity and sharing what you've got. Mikala jokes that its funny I work in a savings bank because the Senegalase (or maybe West Africans) are the worst at saving money - cuz anything We chill out on the rocks by the sea for hours, watching the sun set and seeing the locals fish for their dinner. El Hadji goes swimming but Im not up for it this night. We share a lot of laughs throughout the day. AURA AND ANDREA - this one is for you girls: Ive started introducing myself as LULU because when I say 'Julia', they respond 'Chulian' . But they nail it when I say Lulu. So now El Hadj has nicknamed me 'LOLO" which, ironically, means big boobs in Wolof. Nice.

INSHALLAH

This means "If God wills it"- such as, see you tomorrow!, Inshallah. I have gotten quite used to saying it, along with "leggy leggy" which means "see you later" (and is probably my favorite word to say) . Another thing Ive noticed here is the immense generosity. Neighbors come and go through our house, asking for running water or ice cubes. Life is pretty normal here; people in Dakar are nearly as poor as the rest of West Africa- the world's poorest region . There is, at least, running water and sewage. That's saying a lot for West Africa. But people here nevertheless are friendly and happy . They dont rush and always take the time to say hello. There are two national sports here; football and wrestling, but we say that haggling is the third national sport because the Senegalese are vicious hagglers. I've picked up some skills in India and Morocco, but here, I am way out of my league.

Djembes on the Beach

My third night here we have a fish barbecue on the beach, known as a grillade. The other volunteers came: Mikaela, Monica, Sophie and Julia #1, and a bunch of Senegalese guys; Amadou, Moussa, Dominic and some others who played the djembe ALL night long . Magueye cooked up all dhellfish, all stuff that I normally wouldnt eat. In the dark though, I just accepted anything and shoved it into my mouth before I could see what it looked like the firelight. Good thing- I realize halfway through that I am eating sea urchin - tastes like sandy meat .I sit next to Amadou's brother, El Hadj,with really long dreads and an awesome accent when he speaks English. He lived in Amsterdam for years, playing djembe and giving lessons.
Next we have les moules, grilled over the fire and smothered in lime juice, so good! The guys banged on their djembes and Mikaela joined in - she's actually quite good and has rhythm. Amadou leads a circle between Sophie, Julia, Mik and I and I get the hang of it ! Kind of... But then they change the rhythm and I am lost completely. Moussa tries to teach me a bit on the djembe but I'm hopeless. Poor white girl aint got no rhythm. These Africans have got it in their blood!
When the guys play the djembe, Amadou leading the circle, their faces light up with so much emotion, especially Amadou's face - he shook his hair and banged so hard on his drum, as if he was closer to God or something . I've never seen emotion like that when someone is playing music. Julia, Mikala and I dance around the fire, singing to the music and shouting "Olé Olé Olé Olé" In the circle, this African woman jumps in and moves like I've never seen before , with her arms flailing and butt shaking . We dance in the sand, jumping up and down like crazy.
Later that night, I talk with El Hadji and he tells me about his infinite love for Cheikh Amadou Bamba, the marabout and "Gandhiji" of Senegal.

Fish Market

Today I wander through the Sandaga market with ElHadji and he shows me all the famous ingredients used in African cooking, such as mint leaves, lentils, haricots and lots of spices. They even chew on sticks here to cure maladies. There are one man selling natural remedies such as boabab fruit, known as monkey's bread or bouye in Wolof, that cures "la rhume des fesses" otherwise known as diarrhea. I've tried it and it works ! They chew on sticks to cure stomach and head aches, and parasites feeding off your intestines. Yummy!
And I will NEVER forget the smell of a fish market in steaming Dakar, and seeing chopped fish heads, fish eyeballs and raw meat strewn across an acre wide rotting market. Yum! Afterwards we go to the literal armpit of the earth, where all the car parts and mechanicians are. Even the ground is covered in oil and grease. El Hadji's friend finds us a dinky little motor scooter that gets us around the city much faster than a car rapide.

TOUBAB !

The little monster of a 2-year old named Mustafa calls me "Toubab" which means white skin , even after 2 weeks of living with him, he still doesnt remember my name is LULU. Hahaha he loves to run into my room and play with all of my cool stuff. He doesnt speak a word of French, except for "Merci" and "Bijoux!" when I ask him for a kiss (bisous). Whats funny is that in my house I dont know who is married or brother or sister or anybody's names.
Who is Malik's wife? Who is the guy who lives upstairs? Who is the random teenager in our house? Who got Mémé pregnant at age 17 (and is her name really Mémé?) These are all questions I ask myself the first week when things are still really unfamiliar and nothing has been explained to me - it's left for me to figure out. I will pick up later that nicknames here are used much more than actual name, even though Muslims have an elaborate naming ceremony whenever a child is born. I will learn later that my host sister's name is not Mémé but Mamy, and my host mum (the mother hen of the whole brood) is not Mami but Yaye, which means mother in Wolof. When I ask Magueye to clarify everyone's names in my house, he says that he actually doesn't know Yaye's real name and doesnt have the courage to ask such a daunting and disrespectful question. Hmmm... the whole naming thing here could not be more different than back home.

Another thing:the families here are enormous and everyone lives together. Whats even more confusing is that to call someone "your cousin" is actually an insult, so you call your cousin "your brother". I couldn't even begin to keep the family tree straight here because everyone is brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews. Also, the daughter of your aunt is "your sister", not your cousin. Beware ! To make matters worse for us toubabs, polygamy is allowed by the Koran and many Muslim Senegalese take this bit very seriously. Therefore it's quite common to come across someone with two, three, up to four wives. Magueye himself has 2 and they both live in under the same roof. This is more or less uncommon; usually a man with keep his second wife in a separate apartment as to not create jealousy among the wives. I'm not quite sure how Magueye's wives do it all together in the same house. Plus, both of them are pregnant at the same time!
As a result, the families are even more numerous because you have half brothers and sisters. Yaye, who is probably around 60, has a little sister of 28 years old - they have the same father. And let me get another one straight: Yaye's neice is younger than her own daughter, meaning that neice is older than aunty. Woo !
There are kids absolutely everywhere you look here- 30% of the population here is under 14 years old. The babies aren't coddled here the way they are in the States, and treated like fragile porcelain dolls. The women here strap them on to their back like duck tape and carry on with their daily chores. Another thing: it seems like it's the women who do all the work around here: laundry, cooking, child rearing, house cleaning. And the men? Usually lounging around in the shade working on their "social relationships."

Other things I have to watch out for: when we eat (on the floor, we all eat from a giant platter) you never eat with your left hand (your dirty hand) and never pose it on the ground because it's pushing your ancestors into the ground. For djuboudienne, the local dish of fish and rice, you roll up a ball of rice with your right hand and pop it into your mouth. Goodbye forks and spoons!


Today was incredible. I love Africa and the people here. They are very proud of their country - you see pictures of the African continent nearly everywhere you go. Islam has touched here in a way that makes eveyrone respectful and gentle. Once in a while you'll have a big, tall crazy African come by but you learn how gentle he truly is - such warm gentle hearts.

SENEGAL

The adventure continues !! Off to Dakar for a month to work in a microcredit bank run by all women in Cité Nations Unies, a suburb of Dakar.
I am in the Land of the TERANGA ! which means hospitality in Wolof and thats exactly what it is . Everyone here is friendly and you salut people about 100 times a day because everyone says hi to...everyone! Quite a change from Paris .. .
Elegant women roam the sides of the sandy roads, clothed in colorful fabric that straps a back to their back like duck tape.
5 tips for how to ride a motorbike in Dakar :
1. Hold on for dear life. There are potholes, craters, speed bumps and head-on cars and buses and the occasionally horse drawn carriage.
2. Lean with the bike, especially when you're turning a sharp corner and need to avoid a few dozen people in the way.
3. Keep your eyes and ears open. Eyes open because there is always a someone standing in the middle of the road. Ears open because there is music playing EVERYWHERE - the Senegalese are obsessed with music !! including djembe, reggae, hip hop, rap (what they call "resurrection of african poetry)
4.Worst time to take your hands off the bile is when you're stopped. Because chances are Magueye is going to rev up and slip in between two moving buses
5. Never wear a skirt , trust me I learned this the hard way. It's really hard to get on a scooter with a paille tied tightly around your waist and 10 men watching you climb on to a bike.

El Hadj teaches me around the roots of Islam today; about how its all about sharing what you have and contributing to the community. Islam is an incredibly generous and compassionate religion, what its really about, not any of this extremist shit in other countries.
Magueye teaches me about how we drink mint tea here : the first cup is to hell, because its bitter, the second cup to friendship and the third cup to love.
My African mum Yaye teaches me about how too much money can make people unhappy and complicate. You need a little for "alimentation et logement" but its friendship and family that really count.