I have a story for you.....one that just wouldn't have happened in many other places.....
To try and make a long story short, a bunch of Volunteers went to the Senegal-Gambia soccer game last Saturday. A lot was on the line...a loss or a tie would mean elimination from World Cup qualifying. Soccer combined with national pride is huge.
Unlike stadiums in the States, Stade L.S.S. is broken into seating sections that are separated from each other with large fences. Also, once a section is "full", doors are shut preventing people from entering or exiting. The purpose of this system is to theoretically prevent fans from becoming too unruly and that unruliness spreading throughout the stadium.
Most of us all got separated so didn't manage to sit together due to the fact that the match was over sold and each section was shut closed while a couple thousand paying fans still had yet to get into the stands. This created a scene as fans were banging on section doors to try and get to seats. There were a few tense moments. It is also important to know, that frustration with the Senegalese power company had already fueled tension during the week and weekend due to widespread power outages.
Finally, just before half-time, as everyone had broken into smaller groups, we made it into the stadium. We squeezed into the north-east section of the stadium.
In the second half, Senegal scored and was up 1-0. The stadium was in jubilation. That all changed with a few minutes to go in the match when The Gambia scored and tied the game 1-1. We should have left at this point, but had no idea what was about to come.
As the clock ticked away, fans on the east side of the stadium above the players tunnel began throwing plastic bottles and such on the field. The game ended and the object throwing intensified. Each individual on the field was being escorted off the shield with riot police with their shields up for protection.
Chaos erupted and spread. The section barriers (8 foot tall - 150 feet long metal fences) were toppled on our side of the stadium. Large, heavy cement blocks that acted as steps going up the sections were being picked up by groups of people and being thrown down the sections. Large advertisement banners were being ripped down and their wooden backings were being thrown onto the field.
Being in the middle of this, you could see the rage in many of these peoples eyes in which you knew there was little that could be done to stop them. Scary feeling to have.
We really didn't know what to do, but felt that the stands would clear out, so we decided to move to the top of the stands. Chaos was still within feet of us but there were other bystanders doing the same thing as us. As we are standing at the top of the stands, we look out at Patte d'Oie, where streams of black smoke from burning tires has already begun.
After about 10 to 15 minutes of waiting in the stands we decided that we had to make a decision. Things in the stadium weren't getting better and we were concerned that the police might open fire with tear gas and such on our section. At the same time, police at the bottom of the section by the entrance were waving for us to get out.....so we did.
Entering the bottom of the stairwell after exiting our section, there was broken glass everywhere. Every glass pane had been shattered separating the stairwell to the outside.
We got outside and the smell of tear gas was in the air...a lot of it. Black smoke was everywhere. Mayhem was rampant. Rocks and such were being thrown.
We started running with the plan to go to my old house in Patte D'Oie until things calmed down. About 75 yards of running, we got grabbed a little bit, but somehow I started getting grabbed/mobbed a lot and I became separated from the group I was with. What is a lot.....between 60 - 100 people swarming me, grabbing every part of my body.
I would loosely break free and then get swarmed again. As this is going on, I am getting hit with rocks, but the adrenaline prevented me from feeling much. My camera was in my hand because I was previously worried about pick-pocketers, now, it was being ripped out of my hands....their was nothing I could do, but let go.
At this point, I was so disoriented, that at one point, I wished that I would just get knocked out. There was little I could do, and that is a scary thing.
Finally, I got pressed against a wall (basically at the end of the stadium property on the east side) and some guys told me to sit down. I couldn't think nor did I want to trust them, but I had no choice. One of the guys slightly pulled my green polo shirt down and realized that I had a Senegalese jersey on up underneath. I think he and some of the others felt stupid after that but things were far from over for me.
They told me to take my polo shirt off and stand up to show that I was "one of them". The second I stood up, I felt I heard others stupidity at realizing I was a Senegalese fan, but I also got hit square on the head with a rock. Of all the rocks I got hit with, that is the only one I actually remembered.
I don't really remember the process of what happened next, but I somehow made it into a family compound where I was told to hide. At this point, I also had 'helpers'. I like to think of them as instigators as well, but I had no choice but to trust...a lot was on the line.
In the compound, I was completely out of it, mentally and physically. I could barely feel my head, hands and shoulders were scratched up, but not much bleeding. I ended up going to the bathroom to throw up....don't know if it was from the rocks, adrenaline, or being scared to death.
The door was being banged on, but the lady's who compound it was, refused to open it. I felt bad putting her in a situation like this, but really had no choice in the matter.
I still had my phone somehow so after about 10 minutes of collecting myself as best as I could, I was able to get in contact with my group, who had been brought to another compound by these 'helpers'. It was really shady because these 'helpers' knew where I was and knew where they were...it just seemed fishy, but not much we could do....and nothing I could do at this point. Also, I was in contact with Peace Corps, but at the time, it was nearly impossible to relay the severity of what was happening.
After about 30 minutes, I was able to meet up with those in my group, where we stayed in the compound they were in for about 5 minutes. Finally, with one of the 'helpers', we weaved through the neighborhood we were in to get to my old house. You could feel the tension and hostility in the air. I looked like a war zone. The major roads were blocked with burning tires.
Making it home to Patte d'Oie was the first time in the ordeal that I felt safe. My host mom, was amazing as well as concerned. After a few minutes, I gave my 'helper' some money so he would leave.
We stayed at my old house for about 45 minutes before leaving. As we were walking, we surprisingly came across a group of Peace Corps trainees who were waiting in a family compound for safety. They also have an interesting story about the evening.
Eventually, a Peace Corps Land Cruiser came to pick everyone up. The trainees were taken to the Regional House and I was brought to Peace Corps to be checked out by a doctor and then was ordered to spend the night there as a precaution.
Sunday morning, I felt a lot better but the bumps on the head were still there as well as some cuts, but nothing major.
I was lucky.
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As to why I was singled out, I am unsure. My major theory is that because I was running when I was being grabbed, I think it may have looked like I did something to anger someone and was trying to get away, so everyone started to grab me.
Another theory is that they thought I was a Gambian fan, but I am unsure why. Regardless, what happened to me, shouldn't have happened to anyone.
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Am I angered....no. I wish things hadn't been the way they had, but nothing I can do about it. Out of all the Volunteers at the game, I'm glad it happened to me, just having a sense of familiarity with the neighborhood and such and having some minor experience with riots/tear gas here.....this was just much grander than past experiences. Needless to say, it was nice when Sunday began.
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Finally, I had some great pictures of the match and scenes in the stadium as the chaos was going on, so that is what I'm somewhat bummed most about. The images would explain so much more. What happened is not something I've ever seen in the US nor can many Americans really fathom or understand most likely.....there are similarities between the US and here, but many differences as well, good and bad.
Portion of a home urban garden in Thies, Senegal
Linguere Urban Ag Volunteer's demonstration garden at local Ag office
Linguere PCV and APCD Famara Massaly looking at a vegetable bed
Prison garden in Linguere
School garden in Linguere targeting young students
APCD Famar Massaly with some of the students
Garden located on the grounds of a radio station in Linguere Situation. Pictured is the gardener.
Radio station with the garden in Linguere.
Somewhat off the beaten path on our way to Richard Toll
Over the course of the next few weeks and months, this space at the hospital in Richard Toll will be transformed into a large scale garden.
Garden at the Barcelona Group's community center in Richard Toll. The garden works with some of the street kids in the community.
Demonstration site of St. Louis Volunteer that nicely incorporates urban gardening techniques with traditional gardening accompanied by a large drip irrigation system.
Home garden in St. Louis that had a 10 meter by 40 meter stretch of melon. While it had some pest problems, I was somewhat amazed seeing this large amount in this compound. They also had a small micro-garden.
Home garden in St. Louis with beneficiary, APCD Famara Massaly, and St. Louis Urban Ag Volunteer pictured.
A home in St. Louis that had an micro-garden, rabbit raising, and pigeon raising. This is an ideal scenario.
First time in three years making it to Podor. Made a stop there to take a look, but currently has no Urban Ag Volunteer.
If I had been a photography major and hadn't been shooting from inside the Land Cruiser, this picture might have turned out better, but it was a beautiful sight heading towards Bakel for the night.
If I had been a photography major and hadn't been shooting from inside the Land Cruiser, this picture might have turned out better, but it was a beautiful sight heading towards Bakel for the night.
I appologize for this bluriness, but it is a picture of a truck that had fallen into a crack when a road over a rivine was partially washed away last rainy season. Several months later, the road is still not fixed and the trailor is still there.
Driving from Bakel to two villages just outside of the city. You can notice that there is some elevation in this part of the country.
In a village just outside of Bakel, home to a former Volunteer, a dam project is underway to hopefully better store water when the rains come.
Shot of the window during our drive between Bakel and Tambacouta
In Thies with Jared Tharp (my brother in a weird construed normal Peace Corps way) and Peter Treut as we prepare for the next day's gardening session in Thies.
