Weekend Away

Sunday, July 2, 2006

I have been alittle lazy this past week in my writing and have actually run out of things for the moment, to write about, so I apologize. Fortunately, this past weekend is worth writing about.

Finally, after a month and a half at site, I was finally able to get out of Dakar for the weekend. It was well worth it and I can see the importance of getting out every once in awhile.

My weekend started when I left work on Friday around 11. It is earlier than normal, but not knowing things, I wanted to make it out of the city as early as I could. My plan was to walk to the garage from the Hospital. It wasn’t the shortest of walks, but like always, I did manage to get lost. So, not only can I get lost on the buses, but walking in the streets of Dakar, with directions in my hand. Sometimes I wonder if I have any common sense.

I ended up making it to the garage around 12:15. The main garage in Dakar is where hundreds of Allhums and Sept-places are and you can get to literally anywhere in Senegal, but it isn’t always easy or quick. While I probably should have known, I don’t recommend going to the first Allhum you see going to your destination, especially if no one is in it yet, because you have to wait for it to fill up…this may take hours.

Around 3:00, the Allhum was full, and we were off to Mbour. My clothes were dripping with sweet and quite disgusting I’m sure. The cost was 950 CFA or less than $2 for the 83 km trip.

I got to Mbour around 5 or so. The minute we pulled into the garage, the allhum was swarmed by taxi drivers and potential thieves. I switched into my ass-hole persona, put the sunglasses on, set the hat low, and brushed past all of them unscathed.

I was headed to my buddy Randy’s place. I didn’t know exactly how far it was but he said that he recommended taking a taxi…I walked. After about 45 minutes, I strolled into his place. I met his family and his dad’s name was Aziz too.

Randy’s place is awesome. He lives what I guess you could call an apartment building. He has his own room and bathroom accompanied with a small balcony. He shares a kitchen with the two or three other tenants, but apparently none of them use it. Also, the roof of his building is amazing. It has views of the ocean and the surrounding areas. Needless to say, I was quite jealous.

By this time, two other volunteers from my stage showed up and unwinding began. A bottle of Black Whiskey, Senegal’s finest, was opened up, and stories were told. We decided to go across the street to have dinner, which turned out to be pretty good. A round or two of beer was ordered, we talked to some locals (one of them had family in Houston), and two of the volunteers got henna put on. I can definitely say that I did not partake in the henna action. I can say that I broke a glass while at the restaurant. It just isn’t a Friday night in my book if you aren’t out breaking stuff.

After dinner, we headed for the corner boutique on the way back to Randy’s. Like myself, Randy has become friends with his boutique workers. As a result, Adam and I told them that, we were poor, but Randy was made out of money and they should charge him more whenever he comes in.. We had them laughing for awhile.

Afterwards, we headed back to the roof for a bit to hangout. That didn’t last long, as the night was growing old and we had a big day ahead of ourselves.

Slowly, the four of us awoke Saturday morning. The plan was to hunt down some bean sandwiches, then head to the garage to get a car to Tobab Dialaw. The plan was successful, but it took alittle longer to leave the apartment then it probably should.

Once at the garage, the drivers and their posses’, saw the four toubabs coming in, and swarmed us. We probably had 30 people around us trying to get us to ride in their car. The initial offer they wanted us to pay was 15,000 CFA…far too much. We ended up paying 8,000 CFA, and it probably could have been brought down to 6,000 CFA if we were more focused.

The next day and a half were spent on the beach, playing in the waves, enjoying the company of other volunteers (most of whom I didn’t know), and a 30 minute regional meeting. The tan only continues to improve.

I headed back to Dakar on Sunday afternoon with a few others. On the way, the motor of the Allhum we were in suddenly just cut off. We figured that it just ran out of gas, wish isn’t uncommon in these neck of the woods. Turned out it was much worse and they started searching for wrenches and stuff. We were close enough to Dakar, that we jumped in a taxi and I was let out in Patte D’Oie. Home sweet home I was.