Touba continued

Ken and Naomi left for London to do a presentation on African spirituality four weeks after i arrived in Dakar. One week later I decided to go to Touba. I had the privilege of traveling with my two baye fall friends Boubacar and Lamp Fall. Initially I suggested that we walk the 200 or so kilometers but they just laughed wholeheartedly. So one Wednesday afternoon we headed to the Blaise Senghor center for the arts for a little going away party, and then it was off to a massive taxi staging area for a ride to anywhere in Senegal. The taxis are 7 passenger diesel Peugeot's and the two hour ride to touba cost about 10,000 CFA for the three of us (20 bucks). As we waited at 10 pm for the taxi to leave I kicked back under a full moon on a clear night and called my friend in the states on the cell phone...the stars in Senegal are the same as in California. Now that’s a surprise. Of course when you cross the equator and head south you begin to see a whole new night sky…in Dakar I had a conversation with someone about the night sky, and astronomy in general, and he was surprised that the sky is the same in America. He just assumed it was completely different. He had heard about how way up north the days are short and the nights are long in the winter, and he thought it must be that way all the time, so I explained that in the summer the exact opposite happens, long days and short nights, with lots of sun. This too came as a shock to him, because he thought of Africa as always sunny and warm and Europe/America as always dark and cold…so that led to a general discussion of the way the earth rotates on its axis, and how as the earth takes a year to circle the sun it tilts at different angles…and how the stars move in the sky…which most people don’t pay attention to. Like me for example, a university educated tree hugging eco terrorist, who didn’t know until the age of 25 that the stars rotate in the sky 360 degrees in 24 hours around the hub that is the north star: a giant sky spinning wheel. Only its not the sky that is spinning. It’s the earth. Astronomy 101.

The taxi ride to Touba was a noxious fumey hell. I think the tailpipe was routed through the roof right into the back seat where I was sitting so I could inhale all that lovely exhaust. Other than that it was interesting to be flying down the open highway watching the flat dry baobab forest land bathed in moonlight pass by at 100 kph…at midnight we arrived on the outskirts of a small town called M’backe, right at the junction of a large arched gate over the highway indicating the official entrance into the holy city of Touba.

Lamp Fall and Boubacar led me to one of the many houses owned by their marabout, Mame Massamba Fall. We crashed at his house (he wasn't there) for the night while one of the baye fall guards circled the compound making a loud whistling sound all night. The next day we walked 7 kilometers from the gate to the center of Touba. Its like a mini pilgrimage, retracing the steps of Cheik Ibrahima Fall…it was hot. I was told that if anyone is caught smoking or drinking within the city limits they can be beaten or even killed on the spot. Immediately I jettisoned my pint of rum and my pack of cigs. People who didn’t want to walk were riding on the donkey cart taxis. Donkeys are a trip. Everytime I look at one I hear the voices of Eddie Murphy and Mike Meyers. You know, Donkey and Shrek? in the movie Shrek?
"SHUT UP DONKEY!"
"But Shrek, i'm such a NICE donkey!"
Donkeys are these little miniature horses with big heads. The way they trot is funny. Poor donkeys. Just the word donkey is funny. Donkey. They have to sit there in the searing sun tied to a big old cart laden with people or rice or bricks, and then get whipped to make them move. It’s a donkeys life. Bouba told me that donkeys are a mystic animal. If you see a donkey in the road you aren’t supposed to say “HEY LOOK IT’S A DONKEY!” cuz that’s bad luck.

Finally we reached the mausoleum of the masters, of Cheik Ibrahima Fall and many other holy men. Before entering we had to take off our shoes about 50 yards from the entrance, and cross the sun baked sand. Lamp Fall and Bouba sucked it up and walked cool calm and collected to the door. After copying that style for about 10 yards I hopped like a fool in a panic, my feet getting literally burned. The old men at the door were giggling...so with my friends I was allowed into the sacred shrine where people were praying and meditating. I was delighted when Lamp Fall started chanting La Illa Ilala at the top of his voice and nobody minded…next we walked to the library with its 7 tons of books handwritten by Cheik Amadou Bamba alone. 14,000 pounds of journals. My lifes collection of writing sits in a trunk in my moms garage and weighs about 40 pounds, 50 tops. And I thought I wrote a lot.

After that we went to the site of the holy water where i thankfully drank to my hearts content. And finally we entered the grand mosque which is like, super big and stuff.
Ok, so my tone is a bit irreverent, but with anything religious i just cant help it. Its in my blood. Truth is i really appreciated that Lamp Fall and Bouba were so kind and generous with me...they were great company. And being in Touba, frankly, made me appreciate jesus all the more. not christianity mind you, just jesus, who said i have come to set you free. Free of religion and all its stifling rules and regulations. I'M FREE THANK YOU JESUS!

After the Touba mega tour we headed back to the house, where there was a gathering of the faithful on the roof. We sat and enjoyed the evening and discussed the baye fall life, the koran and the bible...tremendously interesting and fun. The men gathered in a nearby house to sing and chant deep into the night... Next day we headed back to Touba to catch a bus across the country side to the town where we would find the Marabout. Bouba and Lamp Fall hadn't seen him for awhile...oh i forgot. The Marabout had sent word to Dakar for Lamp and Bouba to bring him three boxes of shotgun shells, 25 per box. So the day before we went shotgun shell shopping in the holy city. It was like looking for drugs. Surreptitiously shopping for shotgun shells on the sly while slinking around back streets. We found them and off we went. While waiting for the bus we watched as everybody headed for the grand mosque for friday afternoon prayer. Friday is the big prayer day and men came streaming from all directions dressed to the nines in long flowing robes. Then the prayers began and all fell silent. For ten minutes the entire city prayed to the east. Actually muslims used to pray towards Jerusalem WAAAY back in the day. Lamp Fall and Bouba, being Baye Fall, just watched quietly, not participating. Once Bouba cracked me up when the men were having a big discussion about traditional islam and baye fall islam. Bouba took a long drag off his spliff and wearily said about prayer "i just cant handle it mon!"....Then it was off to Ginganeo to see the Marabout. Two hours across hot dry flat senegal. When we got there in the afternoon it was a sleepy little town in the oppressive warmth. We waited patiently at the tailors shop until the truck drove up with the marabout. I had been told he liked people with a sense of humour so when Bouba and Lamp Fall went to their knees in supplication to their spiritual master (the disciples are always supposed to have their heads below his) i fell flat on the ground in the dirt in a full hindu prostration...in dakar they called me a comedian...or sometimes sighsigh, which means rude but in a comedic free way, not actually rude or impolite. Its just my god given job. The marabout had a wry grin on his face. We sat with him for quite a long time...he entertained many people, children...everyone seemed at ease and comfortable with him, quite happy really. I could tell he's a hard working guy trying to help his community the best way he can...that night we spent in a round hut in a nearby compound...yeah i said, this is more like it. Getting back to the root mon!

Saturday we finally drove out of town with the marabout to his actual village. N'gatch. He built the village himself. Super hot. Baobab forest and tamarind trees. The village is a work in progress, with a brick wall around its main area of about 500 by 100 square meters. Out there almost no one has a car. They take horse or donkey and cart to town. N'gatch is where many of his wives live, along with the children, and other married couples, and single men who work full time for the community. When we arrived a mat we set out in the shade and about 25 children came running up to collect candy and hang out with us. After a meal from two large bowls we all piled into the pickup truck to go use those bullets we bought in Touba. To make a long story short, the marabout was hunting birds and rabbits out of a moving pickup truck fourwheeling it off road in the 100 degree hot savanna…all the while drinking wine and smoking weed, with the disciples yelling YAHOO! In the back of the truck. Just like in Texas? Me in the back seat, with the marabout who was, well, riding shotgun, naturally. Hunting from a pickup truck in the village wilderness of africa with a marabout while we're all drinking wine and spliffing it up...another wow moment. At one point we stopped and the marabout asked bouba to translate for me. He got real serious and everyone was quiet. He said...
"These birds were killed by me because they had no owner. They had no protection. They were calling to me to be killed because now thy will go straight to paradise. It is very important to have an owner in this life, for protection."
I said to myself as always...thank you jesus...

At night we slept in the village annex, a small complex of cottages and round huts protected by a large grass fence. While walking in the night i saw a wild dog...not a hyena, although they can be around. In the middle of the night we were awoken and served a bowl of food, which we ate with our hands. Next day was a hot one and we spent most of the day with the children. Late in the day i had a long conversation with a group of wives. Well, a long but limited in vocabulary conversation full of pantomine, funny sounds, body language, sign language etc. It's amazing how creative you can be when you want to communicate but cant speak the words. And its fun. Also sat with the marabout and the men and it was full of ribaldry. Is that a word? One the marabout elder disciples spoke very good english. He talked about how he once tried to escape africa to go to america as a stowaway on a ship but never made it. Escape is a fair word (and how is THAT for ironic?!?) Try getting a visa to any first world country if you hold a passport from a third world country. It's so pathetically unequal and unfair. Just is. Anyway, the man was making a joke.
He said to me "This man here (one of his friends) wants to play the game of thowing horse shoes...but he wants to use my penis as the post!"
So i said, "So? What's wrong with that?"
He said "What? Not my penis! Why dont you let him use yours?"
I said "No way, mine is way too small! It will never work! But you, i am sure you have a big one that will work just great!" and just as i was indicating exactly how big his must be the marabout came walking up and thankfully he was laughing...Men. Guys. Fellas. Dudes. Boys. Gents.

That night sunday night we ate dinner back at the annex with a bunch of the teenagers in the village..Bouba translated as i asked them about their lives...school, their futures...their world views...bright inquisitive and goofy, just like teenagers tend to be they were...again in the middle of the night awoken to eat...i knew there was a message, a lesson in the midnight feeding, but i'm not sure what it was! But i knew we were being taken care of and looked after as guests...and i felt safe and sound. Aside from one dutch woman who married Serigne Massamba Fall and who built herself a little house in the village and whose son was living there, i doubt N'gatch saw too many true outsiders like me pass through the gates...

Monday morning we began the all day trek back to the coast, to the cooling ocean breezes of the big city Dakar baby. From the tiny village of N'gatch to the small town of Ginganeo, to the small city of Kaolack, and to Dakar. Back at the house. I stayed a few more days and got on a plane and flew to Gambia. But i still got more to say about Senegal. YO! Btw, yo means you in wolof. Hey, YO!