Last Days in Dakar

I'm getting ready to leave for Potou, where I will be living for the next six months. I've summed up some of my thoughts about leaving on the GCY website blog.
Here's a few pictures as well...

This is from when we commandeered the school's kitchen and made crêpes.

Crêpes and nutella. Yummmmmmmm. (Not going to be available for the next little while 6 months.)

A view of one of the little corner boutiques. This one is quite large, actually.

Omoul, my Wolof teacher. She also led the Ceebu Jen cooking class.

Everyone at "The Copa Cobana," a tiny touristy restaurant near school where we hung out a few nights.

My host sister, Mary-Jo and I... it's going to be sad to leave soon.

I'm at the sunset of my time in Dakar. Hopefully the sunrise in Potou is just as beautiful! I don't even know what to expect... stay tuned to find out!

I love you all, take care. Please send me email messages whenever you think of kind thoughts or pieces of advice to naowright@gmail.

Going to Gorée

Our Sunday, October 9, 2010, we went to Gorée Island. It is the only slave island that has been memorialized, representing the many islands that lie off the west coast of Africa. The massive slave ships couldn't moor on the shallow shores of the mainland, so slaves were brought to islands like Gorée. Each European power had its own maison d'esclaverey (slave house) where it detained those slaves it had acquired until the next ship came to pick them up. On Gorée is the infamous "porte de no retourn." 

Waiting for the ferry in Dakar Harbour.

On the ferry.

The beauty of the island was uncomfortably juxtaposed against the horrific things that happened here, historically.

There was a museum on the island, but we couldn't really figure it out; everything was in french and it appeared to be largely about evolution and African history. There was nothing about slavery in this museum. It's housed in the old fortress that served as military protection for the island.

Inside the museum... wondering what's going on.

A kitty on Gorée. They are everywhere in Dakar, but you can't touch them. It's so hard!

The colors were striking to me.

The front entrance to the Maison D'Esclavery.

Views from inside the tiny cells which housed slaves as they awaited the pick up from ships. 

Left: The "Port of No Return" from which slaves were shoved onto ships for the Americas; Right: view from a door upstairs where the white, European slave directors lived. 

I thought the contrast was odd. 

Making Ceebu Jen

Making the national fish and rice dish of Senegal. 

Peeling garlic.

Mashing up a combination of garlic, parsley, and hot peppers with a pestle and mortar.

Stuffing the fish with the paste.

We cut a tiny slit and then opened up a hole with our fingers, then pressed in the green paste.

Another GCY Fellow, Meag sitting by the fire heating the charcoals to cook the Ceebu Jen.

Sifting through rice to make sure it's clean.

Yummy vegetables, so rare here!

Everyone sitting around. Senegal is into communal living, being.

Also had a lesson in making Attaya, the national tea of Senegal. It's basically a super-concentrated green tea with loads loads loads of sugar.

Life in Dakar

My second night in Senegal was spent in this room at the Do Santos house. I have since put up pictures of family to keep me company. That fan, in the corner is my best friend. It keeps me cool at night, but also prevents Malaria mosquitos from biting.

Views from a taxi; the big mosque, Mosque El Hadji Abdou Aziz Dabagh.

The Senegalese "White House" where the current president, Abdoulaye Wade, resides.

Some random shots of ponies... they pull carts, they are round-about art, they wander loose in traffic medians...

We went to a soccer match, a little sketch cause we were some of the only non-Senegalese there, but it was such a blast!

One of the first things I noticed was the BEAUTIFUL tile mosaics that cover most of the floors, even some outside.

Drinking Attaya, a green and mint tea that Senegalese drink almost ritually, taking advantage of the lengthy preparation process to talk about the world and laugh.

Me and some of the fellows at a Youssou N'Dour concert. He held it at his private club, and it didn't even start till two in the morning! CRAAAZY.

At the Center Français we watched a fabulous blend of modern and traditional dance. 

The first day it rained in Dakar, I was confused-- it'd been SO hot, I forgot rain was even possible.

Senegalese don't normally eat fruit, and rarely eat vegetables. So I've taken to making a nice mix of sour plain yoghurt and bananas, apples, oranges, or mangoes that can be bought for a couple hundred CFA (about fifty cents) at any number of corner "boutiques".

My host sister, Mary-Jo and I.

Mary-Jo and her friend. Hugging isn't very normal here, but my family in Dakar is Catholic so it's more common. I have seen both of my host parents even kiss Mary-Jo!

Weird things near my school: rainbow painted tires and a pile of empty sea shells.

My days consist of 4-hour French classes in the morning and 3-hour Wolof classes in the afternoon. Phewwww! This is going to be a long month!

We Have Arrived!

Loading the bus from the airport to go to the hostel where we spent our first night in Dakar, Senegal. EEP!

The first sights of Dakar, the morning sunrise and a crowded bus taking us to our hostel. 

"Car Rapides," the tiny busses that take people all around Dakar for cheap. We didn't know anything about them when we saw this herd for the first time on our drive in.

Our first breakfast!

The looking at the hostel where we stayed our first night in Dakar.

More hostel... 

"The Senegal Crew" on Point Des Almadies, the most western point in Africa. One stop on our quick tour of Dakar the first day.

Look, I see it! Our home for the next month! Off in the distance in the upper picture is Point Des Almadies.

The group being all photogenic and what-not.

The controversial Statue of African Renaissance, which many Senegalese view as a waste of government money for a tasteless statue that few people identify with... one of the largest mosques in Dakar stands in its shadow; man, woman, and child are all quite scantily clad.

France has affected much more than the language in Senegal; we stopped for nutella smeared crêpes along the way on the tour.

View from the bus window. Herds of livestock seem to roam the streets, we don't know who they belong to. 

Back at the hostel. I thought the laundry looked pretty... and then I said Oh! All of this was done by hand! Little did I know, much of my next months will be spent doing laundry by hand...

I evaded having to eat my first meat in four years because there was fish for lunch the first day: 

Ceebu Jen is the national dish of Senegal. It's basically rice and fish and vegetables in a tomatoey, brothy business. It's customarily eaten with hands around a large, communal bowl.

I wasn't so lucky at dinner, though. Chicken... blekkk. Soon we would move to our host family, and who knows how much meet I'll have to eat there. Ugh...