TAXIS:
I would be remiss if i didn't talk about taxis. My very first afternoon i went shopping with Naomi and Marietou and it was one of those wow experiences. Crowded dusty streets, sand and dust covering everything...it is the dry season after all...which begins in the fall and extends well into the summer...the rainy season starts around mid to end of July and goes for about 3 to 4 months...then it's the winter dry season which is perfect for tourists from Europe because it's lushy green and warm. But by April it's starting to get hot and dusty...anyway...we took a taxi to a shopping district. Like Manhattan there are just as many taxis as private cars, although the sheer number per capita is far far far less. From our house we would just walk around the corner and up three blocks away from the beach to a main road and wave one down. Then it's time to bargain. The taxis have no meter! So you tell them where you are going and they quote a price and you say "Peshaw" and give them back a price and they say no and you say fine, leave then, and they drive a few meters and you wave another taxi down and they honk and say ok! and agree to your price. That's not me doing that, that's the locals. Then you get in on the right side back door. Senegal drives on the right side, like the USA. The drivers disable the left side door because people get killed by passing cars when they try to get in and out on the left side...Once in the taxi the fun begins. I cannot tell you how many times i literally closed my eyes and braced for the crash i was sure was coming, or for the bang of running into a pedestrian. The taxi drivers drive so close to people walking, horses pulling carts, and other cars, i considered it a MIRACLE we never hit anyone. I never did quite get used to it. But the price was right. For a long 25 minute ride into downtown the charge was about 2500, or five bucks. Then there is the traffic, which is bad as you head into downtown, or as you leave the city at night to go home. Bad as in driving at 10 mph for 20 or 30 minutes. Then again, 10 mph is three times faster than walking and hella easier! Then there are the main roads, or semi-highways, which are gutted, potholed, rock strewn sometimes paved sometimes dirt. Then there is my least favorite aspect, which is the poisonous noxious choking sickening black billowing diesel smoke that emits from half of the vehicles in the country. I can live with the traffic, the rough roads and the near miss disasters, but the smoke was killing me. I was dreaming of a nation running on bio-diesel and exhaust that smells like popcorn, not petroleum nightmare death. For the first few weeks with Ken and Naomi we used to go into town quite a bit, and it was a joy to be with them as they pointed out the sights and explained about life in the country. Our first trip into town was a revelation to Ken, who was thrilled to see a truly modern construction overhaul of the city highway system being implemented by the new president. When he first saw it he yelled out "Abdoulaye Wade I love you!" and I had to be the spoil sport and remind him that the president of every nation on earth is actually one of Satan's princes...
THE BLAISE SENGHOR CENTER FOR THE ARTS:
The first president of Senegal was Leopold Senghor, and Blaise was one of his relatives. A truly inspiring and vibrant arts center in the heart of Dakar was named after him. This center is where many if not all of Dakars leading dance theater and music groups practice. Kens sisters both dance there, and many of his friends are part of the scene, as in leaders of groups, so that was exciting to see that for the first time. The main dance floor is a decent sized area paved with stone under an open sky. Dancers build up tough soles dancing barefoot on stone pavers. Several times during rehearsals the power went out in the center, so the groups would dance under the star and moonlight, with maybe some candles around the edge. That was nice. The drummers ripping away at high velocity...not exactly a sacred dance around the fire in the middle of a Malian village night, but still very cool. And of course like with any artists hangout, there was an area in the back, under the trees, out by the back wall, where all the young men (and occasional adventurous woman) would hang out before or after practice to drink fresh brewed attaya, smoke cigarettes, and drink a little wine to unwind. That was a great place to be a fly on the wall as some of Dakars best talent let their hair down...i would hang out there with one of Kens good friends Boubacar, who was like my guide and brother in Dakar due to his good English speaking ability and his good natured personality. Boubacar plays drums in one of the groups and is also an excellent painter, and like many artists, is just looking for a break...dreaming of a break...praying to god for a break. We talked of god frequently. Boubacar is a Baye (pronounced BYE) Fall Muslim...the Baye Fall are a unique group of Muslims that started in Senegal...more on them later...yeah, Blaise was fun...
