Dakar and my mediocre adventures
(FYI: Dakar = Capital of Senegal)
Half of the people I’ve been travelling with are to work in Dakar, the rest of us are to head down to the southern pro
vince of Casamance and work in the capital, Zinguinchor. Each team consists of one physio assistant, an orthotics and prosthetics technician and an occupational therapist. The Dakar people will be staying in Centre l’Abri permanently. Each will have her/his own room and share bathrooms and the kitchen. They are on their own for food and laundry, etc. The residence is located in a boarding type school for handicapped children and it is run by a nun. They work in different centers within the city but not necessarily near the residence.
On our first of three days in Dakar, we were very productive: we went to the bank to get cash, bought our plane tickets for our ultimate destination: Ziguinchor and bou
ght cell phones. My impressions: the city is polluted, not very charming, expensive and dusty. (Image right: the residence street) The people are sticky and aggressive in their approach to us. Almost every kid we saw begged us for money and people of all ages would follow us on the street, trying to sell us something. Coming back from our errands to a quite and unpopulated location did wonders for our mental health! I usually despise cold showers (I take hot hot showers even in the sweatiest nights of our summers) but here, they are like a touch of paradise. Indeed, mosquito repellent + sunscreen + sweat + dust + pollution = a disgusting sticky paste that covers the body… I saw a goat get hit by a car and this startled me L I’m still digesting the mental image. There are buses, cars, taxis, motorcycles, a few bicycles and pedestrians sharing the street. The taxis are a sight to see; they are so beat up and old, you can’t help but wonder how they still run! Life here happens on the streets – it is where people do business but their business (mostly a small shack that sells a couple fruit, drink and crackers, etc) is where they live. We went to a nearby market which we accidentally discovered because a taxi we were in got lost on our way home. We had to negotiate EVERYTHING we bought for at least five minutes and even so, got ripped off (I think). Because we were so sick of eating carbs, we made a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and onions. Mmm. That night, we had another black out. Actually, we missed electricity every night of our stay in Dakar.
On our second day, our objective was to get registered with the Canadian Embassy in Senegal; should an emergency situation arise. I woke up feeling iffy and not well rested. Indeed, my cough which began in Montreal had evolved and would wake me during the night in retching fits. We headed downtown to fetch breakfast with the city bus. The bus was packed unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I was stuck in the front door and had to melt into the people I was already crushed into every time a passenger wanted to get out. Did I mention it was hot and stinky? When we finally got out, I felt exhausted and gross. We searched for a place for breakfast but because of Ramadan, most things were closed. So, we went to the nearest resto we could find which was Senegalese with the typical national dish on special: Thei Boudjen – spicy fish and rice; not your typical breakfast but it was nonetheless delicious to our empty stomachs. With our contradictory maps to guide us to the embassy, it took us several hours since we could not walk anywhere without getting approached by locals to talk and sell things to us. Being a group of six people, its hard to keep together in the narrow and filled streets with people talking to us left right and centre. Given that we are all white (aka: Toubabs), its as though we were fluorescent in their eyes. I bought a mosquito net, African pants (which thereafter ripped) and a necklace on the way. The embassy itself was a disappointment (apart from the bathroom which had toilet paper and soap in
it!). Our visit was completely useless because we simply had to telephone them… Exhausted (and me feeling evermore sick) we headed back towards the downtown core, we saw clouds rolling in and started looking for a taxi when the bus appeared. We stupidly decided to repeat the unpleasant bus experience. It was just as full and the body odor and heat were even more intense. I got to feeling really really sick. I didn’t know if I was going to faint or what was going to come out of me nor from which part of my body. I felt the blood drain from my head, my extremities tremble and my face turn green. I told my crew that we need to get out of the bus asap. I then had to finding a toilet in lightening speed in a non-toubab part of town; quite a feat!. A nice fellow in a store let me use his facilities. Explosive diarriha on a Turkish toilet with a couple Kleenexes! Awesome! We hit a supermarket (normal grocery store) 
on our way home because we didn’t have the courage to bargain in the markets. The store had everything but was overpriced (like triple the price we are used to paying). I headed straight to bed when we got home.
On our last day in Dakar, we relaxed. I slept in and eventually, we headed to the beach. I was looking forward to biting into a delicious mango for breakfast. After my first bite, I realized there were little white larvae crawling within it. Kinda removes your appetite for breakfast… The beach itself was quite disappointing (polluted) but it felt good to move/swim and relax. (Image right and left: beach in Dakar; beach goats!)For supper that night
, we went to a nearby restaurant which served a bit of everything. I had a chicken shawarma. And then my 4-day episode of tourista started.
The next day, I was happy to leave Dakar but it was sort of sad to separate our sextant group as we had quite enjoyed each others’ company. All in all, I can’t say I was very impressed with the city.
(FYI: Dakar = Capital of Senegal)
Half of the people I’ve been travelling with are to work in Dakar, the rest of us are to head down to the southern pro
vince of Casamance and work in the capital, Zinguinchor. Each team consists of one physio assistant, an orthotics and prosthetics technician and an occupational therapist. The Dakar people will be staying in Centre l’Abri permanently. Each will have her/his own room and share bathrooms and the kitchen. They are on their own for food and laundry, etc. The residence is located in a boarding type school for handicapped children and it is run by a nun. They work in different centers within the city but not necessarily near the residence.On our first of three days in Dakar, we were very productive: we went to the bank to get cash, bought our plane tickets for our ultimate destination: Ziguinchor and bou
ght cell phones. My impressions: the city is polluted, not very charming, expensive and dusty. (Image right: the residence street) The people are sticky and aggressive in their approach to us. Almost every kid we saw begged us for money and people of all ages would follow us on the street, trying to sell us something. Coming back from our errands to a quite and unpopulated location did wonders for our mental health! I usually despise cold showers (I take hot hot showers even in the sweatiest nights of our summers) but here, they are like a touch of paradise. Indeed, mosquito repellent + sunscreen + sweat + dust + pollution = a disgusting sticky paste that covers the body… I saw a goat get hit by a car and this startled me L I’m still digesting the mental image. There are buses, cars, taxis, motorcycles, a few bicycles and pedestrians sharing the street. The taxis are a sight to see; they are so beat up and old, you can’t help but wonder how they still run! Life here happens on the streets – it is where people do business but their business (mostly a small shack that sells a couple fruit, drink and crackers, etc) is where they live. We went to a nearby market which we accidentally discovered because a taxi we were in got lost on our way home. We had to negotiate EVERYTHING we bought for at least five minutes and even so, got ripped off (I think). Because we were so sick of eating carbs, we made a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and onions. Mmm. That night, we had another black out. Actually, we missed electricity every night of our stay in Dakar.On our second day, our objective was to get registered with the Canadian Embassy in Senegal; should an emergency situation arise. I woke up feeling iffy and not well rested. Indeed, my cough which began in Montreal had evolved and would wake me during the night in retching fits. We headed downtown to fetch breakfast with the city bus. The bus was packed unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I was stuck in the front door and had to melt into the people I was already crushed into every time a passenger wanted to get out. Did I mention it was hot and stinky? When we finally got out, I felt exhausted and gross. We searched for a place for breakfast but because of Ramadan, most things were closed. So, we went to the nearest resto we could find which was Senegalese with the typical national dish on special: Thei Boudjen – spicy fish and rice; not your typical breakfast but it was nonetheless delicious to our empty stomachs. With our contradictory maps to guide us to the embassy, it took us several hours since we could not walk anywhere without getting approached by locals to talk and sell things to us. Being a group of six people, its hard to keep together in the narrow and filled streets with people talking to us left right and centre. Given that we are all white (aka: Toubabs), its as though we were fluorescent in their eyes. I bought a mosquito net, African pants (which thereafter ripped) and a necklace on the way. The embassy itself was a disappointment (apart from the bathroom which had toilet paper and soap in
it!). Our visit was completely useless because we simply had to telephone them… Exhausted (and me feeling evermore sick) we headed back towards the downtown core, we saw clouds rolling in and started looking for a taxi when the bus appeared. We stupidly decided to repeat the unpleasant bus experience. It was just as full and the body odor and heat were even more intense. I got to feeling really really sick. I didn’t know if I was going to faint or what was going to come out of me nor from which part of my body. I felt the blood drain from my head, my extremities tremble and my face turn green. I told my crew that we need to get out of the bus asap. I then had to finding a toilet in lightening speed in a non-toubab part of town; quite a feat!. A nice fellow in a store let me use his facilities. Explosive diarriha on a Turkish toilet with a couple Kleenexes! Awesome! We hit a supermarket (normal grocery store) 
on our way home because we didn’t have the courage to bargain in the markets. The store had everything but was overpriced (like triple the price we are used to paying). I headed straight to bed when we got home.On our last day in Dakar, we relaxed. I slept in and eventually, we headed to the beach. I was looking forward to biting into a delicious mango for breakfast. After my first bite, I realized there were little white larvae crawling within it. Kinda removes your appetite for breakfast… The beach itself was quite disappointing (polluted) but it felt good to move/swim and relax. (Image right and left: beach in Dakar; beach goats!)For supper that night
, we went to a nearby restaurant which served a bit of everything. I had a chicken shawarma. And then my 4-day episode of tourista started.The next day, I was happy to leave Dakar but it was sort of sad to separate our sextant group as we had quite enjoyed each others’ company. All in all, I can’t say I was very impressed with the city.
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