When we arrived back at the guesthouse in Fajara, everyone we knew there was so surprised to see us as they had assumed we'd continued to Dakar by boat. Elizabeth had returned to Netherlands the day before and planned to return to see her boyfriend Famada again in January. Alfred had found a better place to rent for his bakery and was overseeing the renovations and was pleased to have been able to find the place had accommodation so that he could live on site. Mouctar still hadn't got his computer back from the police and was spending his time reading up on information for his studies. He said his country did not have a good record with human rights so he was unable to ask them for help to get his confiscated things. Fleur and Wendy had a couple more weeks in Fajara before taking a two week break and then heading back to Netherlands.
There was a new lady at the guesthouse from Alabama. Lesley was working for the United Nations in development. She told us how she had been a pilot for the UN in the Sudan and was shot down. She had to give up flying as she had a heart problem so was working in nutrition and maternal health. She had spent time in Haiti after the earthquake and told us about how the begging children would hang onto the vehicle as they were desperate for money. She is currently visiting schools to analyse the food given to the children. There are concerns that there is a increasing number of obese people in Gambia. As soon as her research is finished in Gambia her and her husband plan to move to China where they will set up a business.
We headed off early in the morning to catch the first ferry across to Barra. We had to make an early start so we would not arrive in Dakar too late at night. We crossed at the Karanga border into Senegal and were pleased that I had opted for a multiple entry visa for Senegal so making it easy to enter for the third time.
The ferry waiting area was jammed with people and when they opened the gates there was a crush of bodies. There was nothing separating the passengers boarding from the vehicles loading so it was a frantic chaotic rush to get a place on the ferry. People jammed between the trucks and cars on the deck as all the indoor seating areas were already overcrowded. There were people on the stairs and under the stairs.
A second ferry headed into dock as we pulled out and all the local fishing boats were getting ready for a day's fishing.
he back seat with one other in the sept-place ( 7 seater) that took us to Dakar. There was not much leg room but we were thankful that the guy in the back was not overweight. Fortunately the road was in pretty good condition and only had to spend about two hours dodging potholes and driving on the road edges.
Passed through the salt pans of Kaolack and through Saly. The landscape is pretty dry and other than mangoes, cashews and baobabs there were no other crops. The village houses are square mud ones with thatched or corrugated iron rooves.
We expected it to be chaotic on our arrival at the gare routiere (transport depot) in Dakar and were pleasantly surprised when we had an easy time getting a taxi and finding our guesthouse. This was probably because it was a Sunday and also because we were not arriving late in the city.
The guesthouse was on Ave Pompidou and well known for its persistent touts. The manager gave us a huge room with a lounge and we could have slept five or six people. It was pretty comfortable with an area that would have once been an apartment kitchen.
We tried the local Lebanese restaurant called Ali Babas and found the falafel sandwich to have more fried chips than falafel. Even the hamburgers here are full of chips and have very little meat. Not at all nutritious or appetising. As we only eat twice a day I look forward to a nice evening meal. When we are sitting in vehicles all day we don't need to eat as much as we are not burning it off. However we still manage to put on weight...even in Africa!
Dakar was noticebly different from some of the other west African cities we have visited because even the small side streets here are paved or sealed. Lome, Cotonou, Ouagadougou, Bamako and Banjul all have sandy side streets. We ate at the Alliance Francaise, the French Cultural Centre, but it was pretty expensive and my meal was well charcoaled. We found a huge supermarket with all kinds of goodies. There were trays of instant mixed salads, hot pizzas, and cooked meats so we were happy to prepare a meal in the room than suffer more shwarmas.
At the Alliance Francaise was a band rehearsing, so we decided to have a seat and listen to them playing. It turned out to be a selection heat for a show similar to the Pop Idol shows that are plaguing the world at present. There were some very talented guys singing and only three women. The audience were hilarious. Sometimes we couldn't hear the singer because they were singing along and whistling and calling out the singers name. Some of the audience would dance in front of their seats. We were not sure if they liked the song more than the singer. The songs that got the most response were Senegalese ones. One talented young lad, with a red tinted curly 'Mohawk' hairdo, did a Frank Sinatra song in the local language with a fast beat and some ballet twirls.
Ave Pompidou is well known for its torture by touts. From the terrace of our guesthouse we could watch the same hawkers coming by regularly throughout the day. At night a lot of them sleep on the street beside their merchandise. In the main square, a tee shirt seller tried to get into John's shirt pocket, as his accomplice, the sunglasses seller tried to distract him. I pushed the tee shirt seller away with a thump on the shoulder and John kicked his mate in the bum. We have inner pockets in our pants that have zips, where we keep the day's spending money, so don't worry about the pickpockets being able to get any money from us and we also wear our passport pouches under our shirts and carry money in pouches buttoned inside our trousers. We try not to carry our daybags with us in the streets as they make you a target. It is wearing having to respond to the peddlars and beggars everytime you walk in the street. We have no photos of Dakar city as we didn't feel comfortable carrying a camera around.
The main reason for being in Dakar was to get a Mauritanian visa. We had to drop our passports off on the Monday and pick them up on Tuesday. They were pretty expensive ,NZ $123, for 14 days. We enjoyed our walk from the embassy to our hotel where none of the street sellers or peddlars bothered us as we were away from Ave Pompidou. Even the stall holders in the market left us alone. Interestingly we didn't pass any sheep, cows, donkeys or goats on our city walk. On the outskirts of the city we did see places that looked like feeding lots for sheep and goats. Two or three car tyres were stacked up and filled with feed for the animals and it looked like buyers came to these places to buy their animals when they wanted them.
From here we are headed for Saint Louis and the jazz festival.
