L’ile de Goree (Goree Island

June, 23 2009

L’ile de Goree (Goree Island)

            A day that started out remarkable quickly turned to chaos. Emily, Becca, Izzy, and I woke up at about 6:30 am to go on a jog. We dressed in our running shorts and tank tops, equipped with our ipods. We began to run our way down the broken streets of Dakar, struggling through humid air. The streets are already full of people and as we turn heads we come to the realization that our attire may not have been the best idea, the stares are piercing diminishing the comfort that we felt when we started our run on campus. If our clothing wasn’t bad enough, running with ipods when there are people and children are sleeping on the streets, it seems wrong in a way, we have yet to run again. After our run we got ready for our trip to Goree Island.

            All 12 of us piled onto the university bus, with Pape, Fatou Mata, Nde Coumba (pronounced pop, fata mata, ne coumab).  Adi, Maria, Dou Dou (doo-doo, don’t laugh) and Dou Dou son came with us as well. We drove to the port and waited for the ferry to arrive to take us to the island. The port had a small gift shop, where I bought post cards, but I am having trouble finding stamps ( I will buy them soon I promise.) Anyways after we got out of the shop there was a line of people waiting for the ferry, the women were dressed in their beautiful clothing, and men were equipped with goods from Dakar that they would bring to the island. The lady standing in line next to me asked me how I was doing, what my name was, and proceeded to introduce her self when I returned the questions. She said you must come to my shop today (at goree), don’t forget me. What I thought was simply a friendly conversation and polite invite would be something I never prepared my self to handle, I had yet to experience the way of the women shop keepers, and ohhhh was I in for treat, all of us were.

All the women on the boat introduced themselves to us, and with their cunning charisma were sure to get all of our names. As the ferry pulled into the dock, the sight was unbelievable, the colors, the beach, the buildings, I was in heaven. We started walking through the Island as we were told the dark and cold history of this place. Goree Island was occupied by Dutch and later by the French, and it was a large part of the Atlantic Slave Trade, where slaves were held in the esclave maison, and exported literally like goods out of the country. It was the first place in Africa to be settled by Europeans. Through all of its sad history it has grown into a gorgeous island, where most of the residents seem to be living fairly comfortably, compared to most in Dakar.

While we were trying to learn the history of Goree and take in how the slave trade impacted the country, there was a constant distraction of the women shop owners, asking if we were going to come to their shops, repeatedly telling us their names, repeating ours, and saying “you don’t forget me now, you come to my shop after your tour.” The beginning of our tour was fairly peaceful but as we were leaving the le maison des escalaves something that would be illegal in the States began, stalking and harassing. Literally 6 women would surround you and say. “come to my shop, my sister,”  you’re my sister, you want a pretty necklace. Despite what I thought was will power I got haggled into buying a bracelet. It was getting a little stressful, but we just kept telling them we had to go to lunch and then we would come back, it was the only way to get away from them. We then had lunch at this nice little outside restaurant I had amazing rice with this weird saucy like thing. During lunch little baby kittens stood under our table staring at me with their hungry eyes. I must fragrant an I love animals odor because they sat right under my chair and stared up at me the entire time, who knew that cats could beg. I had such a hard time not feeding them, but I knew if I did they would never go away, and they could be really sick, so not the safest idea :/.

As we finished our meals, the women were lingering outside of the restaurant and literally waiting for us, the surrounded us and said “my sister, my friend you come to my shop, saying our names, mainly our seneglese names Koddu Koddu you promised you would come to my shop, you don’t like me, and again we had to just deter them for a little while longer, by saying after we swim, after we swim. More women approached us, and we probably told 13 women we would visit their shops, the worst idea ever. We then headed to le plage to go swimming.

The beach was full of beautiful, skinny women, and adorable children. We stripped to our bathing suits and headed for the water. Keep in mind for some reason Senegalese people don’t really know how to swim, including Pape. It was the funniest thing ever, he would freak out if we went to far, and if he couldn’t touch, he is just so darn cute. While we were swimming some boy started throwing dead fish at us, and like little girls we all screamed and swam away, fueling his torture, haha it was pretty amusing, but then Pape started to get mad and way like heeyy booooy (can’t really explained how he said) but the boy listened instantly, I think it might have meant something else, but just sounded like hey boy, it my favorite because of the way he says it. But once again Pape saved our lives. We mingled with all of the Senegalese people, who are by far the kindest people I have ever met. This 4-year-old little girl started swimming with us, and I was throwing her in the air and she was the cutest thing ever (parents no where in sight), until she proceeded to pants Emily, in front of all these teenage girls and boys, haha they got a kick out of it. The ocean was absolutely amazing and we had soo much fun with Pape, words can’t even begin to explain how much fun we were having. As we were in the water we could see our new Senegalese sisters lurking near by close by waiting for us to ascend. The minute we left the water we were again surrounded, and mistakenly again told them we would come, requiring that we fulfill our promise. We layed on the beach for about 20 minutes, and thinking that my 4^th application of sun screen that day, would protect me, wrong again, the burn afterwards, killer I tell you.

            Anyways we then went to get to ice cream and were literally swarmed by the women, I am not even joking like 15 women all trying to get us to come to their shops. They kept saying “did you forget me, you promised, how could you forget your sister.” We all proceeded with the separate ladies that we each promised the most. Unfortunately the lady that stalked me the most, did not have very good things, and was trying to get me to buy everything. I told her I only had a little bit of money, and Pape tried to help me haggle, but then the lady started screaming wolof profanities at Pape, because she couldn’t stand that he knew what was acceptable to pay.

All of the women hated that we had Senegalese people with us, because they wanted to manipulate us in anyway they could. We literally were being pulled by the arms between these women to come to their shops, despite the fact we told them we spent all our money. The kept saying just to look just to look, and then of course wouldn’t let you leave until you bought something. They would really get into our heads by saying, what you don’t like my face, you don’t like me, you promised, we have made no money today, you will help us so much. It was very overwhelming there was no escape. They tried to trade for our bags, the earrings in our ears, our necklaces, anything. One lady spent forever trying to convince me to give her my timbuk 2 bag, she saw a fingernail file in my bag and I showed her what it was, gave it to her in hopes of getting away, while she did leave me alone the others did not. I had only the smallest amount of money left in my hand, and one lady sold me a necklace that she tried to sell for double the price earlier. Seriously the most overwhelming experience any of has ever been through, we just wanted to run, and leave the island. One lady seriously chased Emily down and tried to take the tiny silver earring from her tragus piercing. She kept saying just try just try, while Emily attempted to run away and say I can’t take it out. I finally grabbed her by the hand and yelled “NO MERCI” to the lady, and she got sooo mad at me and yelled very loudly in a language I couldn’t understand. It was insanity.

            What a shame it is that we went to an island to learn about history, and to try to understand how slavery will forever be a part of this island, it could have truly been a humbling and emotional experience, but instead we were overwhelmed and exhausted by being seriously stalked and harassed by these women.  The one thing at the end of the day that makes me realize that the women have good hearts, and their intentions may be pure is the one lady that Alisha traded a toy triceratops man for a beautiful bracelet because she wanted a toy for her children. She was willing to sell a beautiful piece of art, to bring a smile to her babies’ faces.

            All in all I can still stay that the trip was remarkable, astonishing, despite the hell of the last hour. You really have to take every experience here and analyze why things are the way they are.

 

 

            

sell to survive

We were now right in the midst of city life, and with the city come thirsty vendors, and begging children. There were cats and dogs running throughout the streets. I walked around with eyes wide open, trying to take every second of it in. The men shop owners began to approach the group of dazed Americans, and from there on we were sucked in, and unable to find a way out. The shop owners here have small hut like buildings that are about 4 feet deep and 3 feet wide, and filled with beautiful handmade gifts of all kinds- painting, jewelry, clothing, carved woods, wonderful things.  Yet the difference in sales strategies is immense, but one must take into account that it is the difference between desperation and greed. These men would bring you into there shop and persuade you with any means to buy something, they would say just look just look, and then try to get anything out of you. They make it extremely difficult to say no, especially when you know that any thing they sell, is sold to support their families. You bargain everything here, you never pay full price, and these people will take even the lowest prices at the end, because they truly need any amount of income they can get. Pape (pop) our Senegalese friend did all of this for us, he is amazing. When one stops to really reflect on these things, it is really sad. But here you can’t really reflect on these things too much, or you would spend the whole time here depressed. 

The hardest part of all of this for me is the little children walking around with their tin cans, and holding their hand out to you. These children have broken shoes and dirty clothing, and their ages range from 3 years old to 13 years, no parents in sight. It is hard to comprehend that even though I have so much more than these children, I still cannot give money to every child, because there are so many, and one would go broke very quickly.  But they are so grateful for everything they get, one thing that separates these people, these children; from American people and children. The word ungrateful doesn’t seem to exist in this country. One of the girls here was so smart; she gathered a bunch of toys and candy from home and brought it here. Instead of money she gave these to the children, and I don’t think I have ever seen a child’s face light up so much. I swear they were happier to get toys and candy than money, because it is a treat to them. You saw the kids playing with their toy cars on the ground, flying their batman through the air, just ecstatic to have a toy.  After a long day of shopping and being surrounded by shop owners, and children;we hopped on the bus to go home, I wont mention the excitement of the roads and public transportation just yet, more stories to come. 

Before and After

June 21, 2009

Nange def? (How do you do in Wolof)! I have officially finished my first full day in Dakar, where to even begin is the question. It has already been an experience I could have never prepared myself for, or expected! At moments it has been bittersweet, but mostly I am euphoric about being here. I will begin with the longest trip ever from the United States to Senegal. My flight from Portland boarded at 12:00 pm on the 19^th Portland time. Very small and cramped plane! The in-flight movies consisted of two movies which I have already seen and didn’t really enjoy, the race to witch mountain, and Hotel for Dogs. I sat next to a younger boy probably about 17 who was on his way to Qatar where his father lives, he told me all about it and he was very nice. But again the plane was so cramped and at times pretty miserable. The flight that I expected to be 12 hours only turned out to be 9 ½, very exciting to me because the turbulence was starting to get to me a bit. We landed in Amsterdam at around 6:30 am (Amsterdam time)on the 20^th, where I made my way through customs and sat with my belongings bike locked to a seat at my terminal and I attempted to sleep for 6 hours. I finally boarded the plane to Paris, when I find out the plane ride from Amsterdam to Paris is a mere 14 minute plane ride, hardly worth the 6 hour wait. I arrived at Charles De gallue airport in Paris, and it was deserted and very calm, I walked for about 20 minutes before I found my terminal, and had another 3-hour layover. I met 2 other students going on the program there, and Caitlin had the seat right next to me, and Thor a bit further away. We boarded the plane along with about 200 other Senegalese people, and no English was spoken from this point on. The plane was the most luxurious plane I have ever been on. The first class seats were unbelievable, literally like beds and even in coach class we each had our own TV’s and fairly comfortable seats. But it took us about an hour and a half to depart because there were trying to find seats for senegaleses women and their 5 children all together. There were about 5 families. I was in a window seat and the view flying over Europe and Africa was the most remarkable thing I have ever seen, not a cloud in the sky! The people on the plane were beautiful and the children were the sweetest things ever! I had no idea what was to come on the 5-hour plane ride from Paris to Dakar.

            I never new the fear of death until the plane landing in Dakar. The landing into Dakar was the scariest thing ever, the plane hit the ground at about 400 mph I swear and I think I might have flown out of my seat it hit the ground so hard. The runway was bumpy and I couldn’t predict when we were going to slow down, because the plane headed full speed down the runway, quite terrifying.  After the landing we got out of the plane on the ground, not a terminal. Were pointed in the direction of a bus with about 60 other people stuffed in, where we preceded to the airport building about a 5 min drive. At this point it was welcome to Africa because the heat was nearly unbearable, and it was so humid I could hardly breathe and keep in mind this was about 9:30 pm. We waited in line for customs got stamped and the chaos began. I have never seen so many people in the tiniest baggage claim area  you could imagine, you couldn’t even move. It took about an hour for our luggage to get off and to make our way through the crowd to grab it. We then proceeded to an ex-ray machine that was required to put all of our bags through before we exited the airport. Luckily right as we were walking out, another American girl (who ironically turned out to be my roommate) greeted us and showed us to pop, while she went to find baggage she had lost from an earlier flight. It was all a bit hectic because we didn’t know who she was and who pop was because I man named Mr. sow was supposed to be there to greet us. But he had a paper with all our names on it, which he preceded to show us about 5 min after the fact. He spoke not a lick of English, instead very fast French. He told us to stay in a certain spot and not move until he returned. Where we were then swarmed with people trying to get us into taxis, or help us with our baggage. Non, merci became the most useful term on the night (no thank you). It was insane the amount of people everywhere, and people would automatically leave us alone when pop would come up and say with were with him, they seem to really respect each other around here. But the second he distanced himself from us even the slightest bit, men tried to coerce into their taxis. Eventually we got into two taxis pop and Kara went in one (kara the girl who lost her baggage) and Caitlin thor and I in another. Again welcome to Africa.

            Cars, taxis were flying everywhere, no order, no lanes, nothing. People were crowed walking on the highways, and the streets. People screaming at each other, and people pushing broken down cars down the highway. The building looked like ancient ruins, and garbage covered the streets. Horses were walking around unfenced and extremely malnourished. It was immediate culture shock, and I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into, I was exhausted and a bit overwhelmed. But the more we drove the more amazing things got! The buildings, everything was like nothing I have ever seen before. We exited the taxi and thor and Caitlin were shown to their apartment, and Kara lead me to our bungalow. 

Campus was a just dirt road, garbage everywhere, and people were pacing back and forth studying outside, very interesting. Kara showed me our room, which is a little smaller then our freshman dorms. The mosquito net hanging over my bed, and the shower with no curtain was another, welcome to Africa. Kara then took me to meet Andrew and Emily the two that were still awake in the bungalow. Andrew, or in French Andre is interesting, and Emily is probably my favorite so far. They showed me the toilet, which is like the tiniest closet ever, and the toilet has no toilet seat, and the tissue is pink. I was then showed to the kitchen, which is infested with ants. And these are no American ants they are African fire ants, quite large and loving the baguettes that were sitting on the counter for us. Who knew that in just a few hours of being in Africa I would be willing to eat bread that had ants crawling on it, but it is all about adaptation here. We have a large foyer with a TV, and a few places to sit. On the ceiling a lizard/large gecko was just hanging out, welcome to Africa. I sat with the girls ate some ant infested bread with nutella. And then unpacked and took a freezing cold shower, which was actually nice for how hot it was. Il fait tres chaud! Kara and I talked for about an hour and slipped under our mosquito nets and went to sleep with underwear and a tank top just a sheet, no blankets, and way to hot. I slept until about 2 am where I then laid wide-awake until around 4 am. I tossed I turned, I listened to my i-pod, nothing, I simply could not sleep. Also the fact that nightlife doesn’t begin until around 2 am here didn’t help, because there was loud, but beautiful African music booming through our window. Kara then woke up and we sat and talked till about 6:30 am, until we fell back asleep.

Bang, Bang, Bang, tat, tat,! Madame! Madame! My wake up call at 8:30 am to a man standing outside our window (which is barred so no one can get in) banging on the bars with a stick. Kara still sound asleep. I try to wake her up to ask if it is Pape. This man starring at me, madame, madame, overt la Porte, overt la Porte. Open the door open the door. I say kara who is this man, what do I do, where so sleeping turns over in her bed and says no merci, no merci. At this point the man walks away but returns a few seconds later, madame, madame!!! I cover my head with my sheet, and don’t really know what to do, until I hear an American voice, its Alissa the other UO student. Apparently her flight was supposed to get in at midnight she didn’t get in till around 4 am, and tried to find her lost luggage for an hour and half, at this point Pape left because he couldn’t find her. So she was stuck at the airport, haggled by a bunch of man trying to get her into taxis, and finally she just went into the doors where a security guard asked her what was wrong and called the security guard of Universite de Chiekta Diopp and got her in a taxi and brought her here, a scary and stressful experienced. Thank goodness she spoke French really good, because I would have been screwed, and terrified.

            Anyways quite the way to wake up my first morning in Senegal. We started the day by walking down to My Shop which is a little grocery shop that has wireless internet. The streets are so covered with garbage, normally I would feel infuriated by such a thing, but because there is no real garbage system here you have to learn to understand why people do such things. The smells on the street change from step to step, one moment you will smell the savory scent of Senegalese nourittoure (food). The next moment will be the nearly unbearable smell of burning trash, and of course many other smells, the ocean, the animals, the perfumes of the people, it is truly extraordinary. When arrived back at our bungalow to women in beautiful brightly colored clothing were cleaning and preparing lunch. It is difficult to watch someone come into your house and clean and cook and not be able to help. At times though things are definitely less luxurious than at home, there are also much more, especially compared to the living conditions of most the people who live here. We truly are getting treated like kings and queens in comparison.

Everyone went into the living room area to chat, and Emily, Caitlin, and I stayed in the kitchen to try and help-mami and the other women with the meal preparations.  And note the meal was being prepared in trays on the kitchen floor. So far here you have to drop everything you were ever taught back in the States. Sanitary is not in the Senegalese vocabulary, but the way of preparing food is incredible and intricate. Anyways there were a variety of vegetables and spices. We helped crush the spices in a large wooden garlic crusher like thing, and peel the tough vegetables. These weren’t any typical vegetables, there were your normal carrots but the others were eggplant, pumpkin like things, and some sort of root, things I have never really seen. Watching these women cook was so amazing, and it cooking truly is a cultural practice. They then brought out the fish, tails and skin in tact. It was darkly colored and looked like it may have been sitting for a few days, but the way she prepared it was unreal. She took her fingers poked a hole in the fish and then stuffed the paste that was made in the garlic crusher in the fish, it was very interesting. While all this was happening ants were crawling all over the food, and it didn’t even phase the women. How from one day I go to throwing away food that lands on the floor, to eating a meal prepared on the ground with ants, for some reason it didn’t bother me, and it was a rapid transition. The only way to truly survive around here is to not care, and to accept whatever, I am learning an entire new way of living, and it is thrilling! The meal was ready about 3 pm, a very late lunch, it is the only real meal the Senegalese eat, and they don’t snack throughout the day either, so my appetite was very strong by 3 pm. The food came out on gigantic platters and everyone eat from the same plate, the 3 vegetarians got our own plates, and I am a little disappointed in my self because even though most of the food was same, I didn’t get to experience the true Senegalese way of eating, all though I have stayed true the last 3 days I think it might go out the window here pretty soon, even though it is not difficult to maintain. The food was vegetables and amazing rice with sauce all cooked together, and so weird but so delicious, my dreams to loose weight are already in the past, because the meal was amazing!  After lunch we had Senegalese tea, which was made from purely fresh leaves, it was the strongest, sweetest thing I have ever tasted. We only had one round because most of us couldn’t handle the intensity, but here they normally have 3-6 rounds and it takes about 4 hours, the way of life here is much slower than in the states, people take time to eat and converse.

  We then got ready to head to the beach. Pap the same man who picked us up from the airport would escort us. Along with fata-mata and mbay, the 3 most amazing people I have ever met, so kind, so hilarious, and so welcoming. Fata-mata and Pape are Muslim but very modern Muslims and dress exactly how many people from the US do. Mbay had his traditional clothing on and they are all so accepting of us and eachother. We began our journey to the beach.

            We walked through our main campus, and it was unreal the difference between an American university and this one, people had there clothing hanging from there windows, there were little shackled buildings everywhere, and it was rare to see women walking around. Again the smells were changing every second. We made it to the ocean, and it was a spectacular sight, we kept walking and walked by muscle beach where hundreds of men were working out, running, sit-ups, everything it was amazing, and they were doing it in sandals. Pape said the beach is not sur (safe), but I didn’t really understand why. As we continued down the road more and more people were on the streets, and things got more and more excited. We came to one part of the beach where there had to be 500 people, there was some sort of impromptu wrestling match, and people were everywhere, at this point the abject poverty of the country began to be revealed.