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CAP SKIRRING
Friday after work, Marie-Claude and I stuck to plan and headed off to Cap Skirring for a weeken
d at the beach. Unsure of how exactly getting there works, we were happy that everything kind of just fell into place. She picked me up with her taxi and we headed directly to the bus station.
On taxis: All taxis in Ziguinchor charge a flat rate no matter what of 500 CFA (= 1.25$).
CAP SKIRRING
Friday after work, Marie-Claude and I stuck to plan and headed off to Cap Skirring for a weeken
d at the beach. Unsure of how exactly getting there works, we were happy that everything kind of just fell into place. She picked me up with her taxi and we headed directly to the bus station.On taxis: All taxis in Ziguinchor charge a flat rate no matter what of 500 CFA (= 1.25$).
(Image left: a little village on the way to Cap Skirring)
The bus station was an open field filled with vehicles (such as the city buses) and people with no infrastructure. Upon approaching it, we asked ourselves: how the hell are we going to find the bus to take us to Cap Skirring? This ended up being no problem at all! As soon as we set foot outside the car, we had two gangs of p
eople aggressively offering us rides to Cap Skirring. We took the cheapest one: 1500 CFA = 3.75$. We were crammed in at the back with people hanging out of the truck, standing on the bumper.
The bus station was an open field filled with vehicles (such as the city buses) and people with no infrastructure. Upon approaching it, we asked ourselves: how the hell are we going to find the bus to take us to Cap Skirring? This ended up being no problem at all! As soon as we set foot outside the car, we had two gangs of p
eople aggressively offering us rides to Cap Skirring. We took the cheapest one: 1500 CFA = 3.75$. We were crammed in at the back with people hanging out of the truck, standing on the bumper. (Image right: on the way to Cap Skirring - this is typical scenary; lots of rivers and greenery)
As the 1h45 min drive proceeded, more and more people got off in little villages and we had more space to ourselves. Nice.
We got to Cap Skirring hungry and in need of a place to spend the night. As soon as we set foot on the pavement, approached us and asked us what our plans were, trying to help. They escorted us to a restaurant by the sea. Since we were hungry and had just walked 15 minutes with our backpacks on to get to the beach, we settled for what they had suggested: a little hut on the beach called L’Homme Tranquille. The guys who escorted us spoke with the locals and hung around. The waiter was very welcoming, saying that he was also the cook and asked us what we wanted to eat. We asked to see the menus but he said menus were useless since he would prepare whatever we wanted. Unused to this type of restauration approach, we ended up having the house special (which is pretty much all he had on hand anyway…): fries, yassa (onion and lemon sauce), fish, cucumber + tomatoe salad, rice, dessert, beer. The meal was expensive for here: 5000 CFA = 12.50$ but it was delicious and was literally on the sandy beach as the sun set. Very romantic.
Supper was really long and enjoyable. It hit the spot after our first week of work! Time had flown by as it was 11 pm when we finished. In dire need of a hotel, the guys who had escorted us to the restaurant were still there and insisted on finding a hotel for us. We told them where we wanted to go and they showed us the way there, walking with us on the beach. They asked us about our plans for the weekend and offered to be a part of them; continue showing us around. We made no commitments but said we were unsure of our plans and open. It was a beautiful night as the moon shined enough light for us to walk on the wide and sandy beach. The twenty minute walk to the hotels was majestic apart from the part when I freaked out after seeing a dead dolphin! Haha! I jumped 10 feet in air because I wasn’t expecting to see the beached creature.
They brought us to the “campment” aka: motel and there was no sign of life because it was late. Thank goodness they were there because they knew where to knock and who to wake up. We weren’t picky about the room so we go a big one with a private bathroom for 10 000 CFA per night (25$) and bid our buddies a good night.
Saturday morning, we took it easy. The reception/restaura
nt of our hotel had an pleasant view.
We got to Cap Skirring hungry and in need of a place to spend the night. As soon as we set foot on the pavement, approached us and asked us what our plans were, trying to help. They escorted us to a restaurant by the sea. Since we were hungry and had just walked 15 minutes with our backpacks on to get to the beach, we settled for what they had suggested: a little hut on the beach called L’Homme Tranquille. The guys who escorted us spoke with the locals and hung around. The waiter was very welcoming, saying that he was also the cook and asked us what we wanted to eat. We asked to see the menus but he said menus were useless since he would prepare whatever we wanted. Unused to this type of restauration approach, we ended up having the house special (which is pretty much all he had on hand anyway…): fries, yassa (onion and lemon sauce), fish, cucumber + tomatoe salad, rice, dessert, beer. The meal was expensive for here: 5000 CFA = 12.50$ but it was delicious and was literally on the sandy beach as the sun set. Very romantic.
Supper was really long and enjoyable. It hit the spot after our first week of work! Time had flown by as it was 11 pm when we finished. In dire need of a hotel, the guys who had escorted us to the restaurant were still there and insisted on finding a hotel for us. We told them where we wanted to go and they showed us the way there, walking with us on the beach. They asked us about our plans for the weekend and offered to be a part of them; continue showing us around. We made no commitments but said we were unsure of our plans and open. It was a beautiful night as the moon shined enough light for us to walk on the wide and sandy beach. The twenty minute walk to the hotels was majestic apart from the part when I freaked out after seeing a dead dolphin! Haha! I jumped 10 feet in air because I wasn’t expecting to see the beached creature.
They brought us to the “campment” aka: motel and there was no sign of life because it was late. Thank goodness they were there because they knew where to knock and who to wake up. We weren’t picky about the room so we go a big one with a private bathroom for 10 000 CFA per night (25$) and bid our buddies a good night.
Saturday morning, we took it easy. The reception/restaura
nt of our hotel had an pleasant view. (Image right: our view from hotel where we had our breakfasts; you can see the ocean in the background but not very well because it was a cloudy day) We read a bit and had a the typical breakfast here: bread and coffee. As usual, a black guy from a table beside us stroke up a conversation with us. His name was Gambie and he was from the Gambia. He spoke English more than French but had the same type of accent I hear when they talk either language. He ended up doing the typical young man artist thing: talk to us for half an hour and then try to sell us necklaces. In fact, he gave us simple necklaces in order to try to sell his nicer ones. We made it clear to him from the beginning that we were not interested in buying anything, but clung onto us nonetheless. We eventually left our matinee hang out to go check out the beach. He followed us for our walk on the beach and although we did not mind his presence, its also kind of hard to deny somebody to walk on the beach beside 
without being rude. We made the mistake of not taking one of our digital cameras :) - it was cloudy, we knew we’d be returning during nicer weather and we were heading to the beach to read and relax.
without being rude. We made the mistake of not taking one of our digital cameras :) - it was cloudy, we knew we’d be returning during nicer weather and we were heading to the beach to read and relax.(Image left: in the garden at our hotel; nice foliage + a HUGE snail on the tree - actually two snails)
Three minutes after walking in the direction of town, two friends/escorters from the night before found us and asked us why we were so late. Taken by surprise by their engagement in our presence, we retorted that we had not made any commitments for the weekend. We continued our walk down the beach. After crossing the Club Med beach, we saw the fishing part of the beach we had eaten nearby the night before. This time, the fishermen were hard at work taking a pirogue (boat) out of the water which was full of their catches of the morn. A picture is worth a thousand words, but they were basically twenty men rolling a boat up the beach with a log system. I’ll bring my camera next time! Promise!
Next to the boats was the large set up of people gutting and cleaning the fish as well as salting and drying. It was really fun (and stinky) to see them at work. I saw all kinds of fish as well as the biggest snails I’ve seen in my life (as big as adult hands spread wide open). We had three locals to show us around and at the fishing station, one of them confronted us out of the blue. He asked us what was going on? Why had we brought along this Gambian guy? Why weren’t we sticking to program? That five people walking on the beach is one too many to carry out a conversation. We were completely and utterly surprised by his unnecessary reaction. We spent a good twenty minutes in the market trying to make amends and not make any enemies. We told all three of them that we had never asked for their help and that we were quite content to discover the area on our own. The situation was really unpleasant and made me sad since I did nothing wrong to deserve it + had no idea how I could avoid getting in similar situations of the such in the future.
Turns out the guy who exploded left. The guy from the night before who had escorted us to his restaurant and who didn’t speak much – Lama and Gambie, the guy from the morning stayed. They saved face and said there were no hard feelings. We re-explained our intentions: just visiting, no intention of paying them, they can come with us if they wish.
We walked a long time on the beach past the city of Cap
Skirring and to Bucotte where there is a Djiola museum. The walk on the beach was a good seven kilometres on beautiful white sand on a very wide beach.
Three minutes after walking in the direction of town, two friends/escorters from the night before found us and asked us why we were so late. Taken by surprise by their engagement in our presence, we retorted that we had not made any commitments for the weekend. We continued our walk down the beach. After crossing the Club Med beach, we saw the fishing part of the beach we had eaten nearby the night before. This time, the fishermen were hard at work taking a pirogue (boat) out of the water which was full of their catches of the morn. A picture is worth a thousand words, but they were basically twenty men rolling a boat up the beach with a log system. I’ll bring my camera next time! Promise!
Next to the boats was the large set up of people gutting and cleaning the fish as well as salting and drying. It was really fun (and stinky) to see them at work. I saw all kinds of fish as well as the biggest snails I’ve seen in my life (as big as adult hands spread wide open). We had three locals to show us around and at the fishing station, one of them confronted us out of the blue. He asked us what was going on? Why had we brought along this Gambian guy? Why weren’t we sticking to program? That five people walking on the beach is one too many to carry out a conversation. We were completely and utterly surprised by his unnecessary reaction. We spent a good twenty minutes in the market trying to make amends and not make any enemies. We told all three of them that we had never asked for their help and that we were quite content to discover the area on our own. The situation was really unpleasant and made me sad since I did nothing wrong to deserve it + had no idea how I could avoid getting in similar situations of the such in the future.
Turns out the guy who exploded left. The guy from the night before who had escorted us to his restaurant and who didn’t speak much – Lama and Gambie, the guy from the morning stayed. They saved face and said there were no hard feelings. We re-explained our intentions: just visiting, no intention of paying them, they can come with us if they wish.
We walked a long time on the beach past the city of Cap
Skirring and to Bucotte where there is a Djiola museum. The walk on the beach was a good seven kilometres on beautiful white sand on a very wide beach. (Image right: the entire beach pretty much looks like this: wide and perfect white sand; this is the Club Med beach)
The two guys showed us little landmarks along the way which was nice. We saw a pseudo beach mosque and were denied further access because we didn’t have anything to cover our heads and a well from which locals could drink from. Bucotte, it turns out, is not by the ocean but rather a good three kilometres from it. The trek from the beach to the village was horrid as it was hot (by then, it was mid-afternoon when the sun is at its hottest) and the terrain often difficult to navigate in because it is rainy season and the usual path was either inundated or very mucky. But on this stretch of road, we saw many things for the first time: baobab tree, peanut plantation, mango tree, rice paddies, weird insects, papaya tree and damn I should have taken my camera because I’m forgetting!
We finally made it to the village, exhausted and very hungry. The village was basically a stretch of dirt road with a couple of houses and one other road with a few more houses. Our escorters found us a place to eat that I can hardly qualify as a restaurant. We ate the only thing they could offer us: beef soup. This is not to dis any vegetarians or special diet people, but you people would not fair well travelling in small corners of the world like this! You have to eat what they have and make due!
After putting something in the stomach and resting our legs a bit, we headed to the Djiola museum. The use of the word “museum” is a misnomer in the traditional sense. This museum was basically six exhibits in the forest. And by exhibits, I mean trees. The “curator”, a guy with his shirt off, explained to us the traditional use of the trees and vegetation in the Djiola culture along with an exposition of items used for Animist fetishes. Animism is the old religion of this part of the country and it is still practiced in some villages. From what I understand, animists do not believe in a God or Allah but in random objects which are fetishes (for example: a rock). Animists go see “fetchiseurs” (their spiritual guides) to help solve problems they face. They use animal sacrifice in some fetishes. I’d love to read more about the subject! We were shown fully grown fromagers (HUGE trees) and were told tales about how women and children would hide in them when they knew they were going to be attacked by a tribe. We saw the tamtam telephone which is a huge hollow piece of wood they would bang on which resonates extremely deeply and can be used to communicate at a very large distance (our equivalent of morse code I guess). We saw how they make palm wine. We were attacked by massive ants the whole visit and got rained on at the end.
We sought shelter under the roof of one of their homes and waited the rain out – I think we spent two hours there sitting outside. By the time we left, it was almost dusk. We headed down the very wet and puddled dirt road and got rained on again before reaching the main road. We re-sought shelter at some random guy’s humble home (one of our escorters knew him). He served us senegalease tea, we played cards and Gambie smoked up.
A blurb about le Thé Sénégalais
It is served hot in shot glasses. There are three servings: the first is strong and bitter; it represents a strong man’s strength. The second is more moderate and has some sugar; it represents friendship and is “just right”. The third is very sweet and represents love. The tea is green and tastes very good, but it is concentrated and they use a LOT of sugar. The whole process of the three teas is social and takes more than one hour.
So, after the tea, Marie-Claude and I were tired and wet and wanted to return to our hotel (plus we were getting hungry again!). We decided to leave even though it was still wet out. We took the dirt road back to Cap Skirring instead of walking along the beach. We hoped we’d see a taxi, but that did not happen because the road was in such bad shape after the rain. We slalomed in muck between the puddles for at least an hour before reaching the city. On the way there, Gambie stopped to pee on the side and we kept on walking (obviously!). He then got worked up because we had not waited for him. Another weird conflicting experience in our long day… Once we made it to town, he jetted off with a cold goodbye. Lama stayed.
Covered in sweat and grim, we both were in need of a shower. I made the executive decision to eat while in town since, by the time we arrived in town, it was 10 pm. Indeed, I did not want to take the chance of walking the three more kilometres to the motel and finding out that the kitchen was closed. Good thing we ate in town because we thereafter found out that it had closed at 8 pm. We had a good meal and took a taxi back to the hotel. We slept like babies that night.
We finally made it to the village, exhausted and very hungry. The village was basically a stretch of dirt road with a couple of houses and one other road with a few more houses. Our escorters found us a place to eat that I can hardly qualify as a restaurant. We ate the only thing they could offer us: beef soup. This is not to dis any vegetarians or special diet people, but you people would not fair well travelling in small corners of the world like this! You have to eat what they have and make due!
After putting something in the stomach and resting our legs a bit, we headed to the Djiola museum. The use of the word “museum” is a misnomer in the traditional sense. This museum was basically six exhibits in the forest. And by exhibits, I mean trees. The “curator”, a guy with his shirt off, explained to us the traditional use of the trees and vegetation in the Djiola culture along with an exposition of items used for Animist fetishes. Animism is the old religion of this part of the country and it is still practiced in some villages. From what I understand, animists do not believe in a God or Allah but in random objects which are fetishes (for example: a rock). Animists go see “fetchiseurs” (their spiritual guides) to help solve problems they face. They use animal sacrifice in some fetishes. I’d love to read more about the subject! We were shown fully grown fromagers (HUGE trees) and were told tales about how women and children would hide in them when they knew they were going to be attacked by a tribe. We saw the tamtam telephone which is a huge hollow piece of wood they would bang on which resonates extremely deeply and can be used to communicate at a very large distance (our equivalent of morse code I guess). We saw how they make palm wine. We were attacked by massive ants the whole visit and got rained on at the end.
We sought shelter under the roof of one of their homes and waited the rain out – I think we spent two hours there sitting outside. By the time we left, it was almost dusk. We headed down the very wet and puddled dirt road and got rained on again before reaching the main road. We re-sought shelter at some random guy’s humble home (one of our escorters knew him). He served us senegalease tea, we played cards and Gambie smoked up.
A blurb about le Thé Sénégalais
It is served hot in shot glasses. There are three servings: the first is strong and bitter; it represents a strong man’s strength. The second is more moderate and has some sugar; it represents friendship and is “just right”. The third is very sweet and represents love. The tea is green and tastes very good, but it is concentrated and they use a LOT of sugar. The whole process of the three teas is social and takes more than one hour.
So, after the tea, Marie-Claude and I were tired and wet and wanted to return to our hotel (plus we were getting hungry again!). We decided to leave even though it was still wet out. We took the dirt road back to Cap Skirring instead of walking along the beach. We hoped we’d see a taxi, but that did not happen because the road was in such bad shape after the rain. We slalomed in muck between the puddles for at least an hour before reaching the city. On the way there, Gambie stopped to pee on the side and we kept on walking (obviously!). He then got worked up because we had not waited for him. Another weird conflicting experience in our long day… Once we made it to town, he jetted off with a cold goodbye. Lama stayed.
Covered in sweat and grim, we both were in need of a shower. I made the executive decision to eat while in town since, by the time we arrived in town, it was 10 pm. Indeed, I did not want to take the chance of walking the three more kilometres to the motel and finding out that the kitchen was closed. Good thing we ate in town because we thereafter found out that it had closed at 8 pm. We had a good meal and took a taxi back to the hotel. We slept like babies that night.
(Image left (unrelated): my family; Rama, myself, Landing, El Hadj and Astou)Sunday morning, we took it easy again. Gambie oddly returned to our motel but our conversation with him was kept at a minimum. I still have a lot to learn about the people here… We inquired about the motel (and the one beside it) for future visits and headed to town with our bags. We had lunch in town (fish and rice!) and hit a cyber café with an excellent connection. I was able to talk to Phil with Skype perfectly!!!
(By the way, if you would like to speak with me while I’m here, you can do so by installing Skype and adding me to your contact list. My username is simply my first name dot my last name).
We headed back to Ziguinchor at the end of the afternoon. We had apparently just missed the bus so we took a “taxi 7 places”: an old station wagon which seats seven passengers. They are more expensive than the buses but less crammed. The major inconvenience is that the driver waits for all seven places to be filled before leaving. As it happens, we waited over an hour for a seventh passenger to join us before getting fed up and pooling together to pay for a seventh (empty) ticket. The ride back home remained under 5$ each.
So, my weekend was very pleasant apart from the confrontations with the local escorters. Even though the weather was not nice, it was nice to get away and see the beautiful coast and ocean. I look forward to returning :)
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