Catching up! Kafountine!

On Sunday, I spent quite some time on my computer trying to battle a computer virus which came from my USB stick which has been in many computers. Thankfully, its not a very malicious one, just very annoying. Astou continued with the cold shoulder and snottyness. I’m looking forward to her absence. If this problem persists, I will invite her for a sit-down talk.

A collegue invited me to go see a soccer game (they are actually double and sometimes triple-headers). I saw one of the guys I live with play which was interesting. There is a LOT of ambiance in the stadium and its neat because like at home, there are people who circulate among the spectators selling stuff to eat. But here, they don’t sell hot dogs and beer but rather local goodies like roasted peanuts, baobab popsicles, bissap juice, coffee, etc. Coincidently, I saw about five people I knew at the game. Very enjoyable. Makes me want to start playing again…I cut the game short to meet up with the girls for supper at the restaurant. Indeed, Claudine had a craving for spaghetti but we were unsuccesful in finding any and had shrimp instead – it’s a tough life I tell you!

Monday after work, Marie-Claude and I went to relax at the hotel pool with the wifi. Once again, it was a relaxing experience. Claudine stayed at Marie-Claude’s (since it has better amenities) to rest since she was still sick. After the pool, Marie-Claude fed me a delicious meal she had learnt to prepare herself: fishballs. To accompany the meal, we had a bottle of wine, but no bottle opener. This is a huge problem when in a muselman country! Its quite embarrassing to say, but we spent 45 minutes trying to open the damned bottle with a plethora of tools. By the time we put our tail between our legs and ended up popping the cork inwards in defeat, our rosé was no longer cold and we were covered in sweat. Reflecting on the experience, Marie-Claude and I realized we both had never finished a bottle of wine so fast – or worked so hard to open one!

Early at work on Tuesday, we got a call from Malick (Claudine’s Senegalais father) telling us she wasn’t doing well and to come see her. Marie-Claude and I took the call for help seriously and left work at 9 am to go see Claudine. I felt bad abondonning my patients, but the decision to go help one of my own was simple. When we got there, she was in both physical and emotional pain and ready to return to Canada. I proposed the following care plan: get her oral pain medication rather than suppository format so she’d start taking them, feeding her and making her disconnect from Africa for just a little bit. We ended up following the plan by eating at the Hotel Kadiadoumagne and relaxing by the pool. I felt a little bad being there instead of at work, but it did do wonders for my sick friend. She was no longer determined to return to Canada by the end of the day. What a relief!

I stayed at the hotel longer to finish preparing for a presentation on bed wounds that I have to give. By the way, the lunch meal I had there was delicious and hit the spot: spagehetti with a creamy shrimp and curry sauce. Try it! Yum! When I returned home, I had my final evening with Rama since she was returning to Dakar. I’ll miss her for sure!I won’t miss Astou’s bizarreness during her trip to Dakar though.

Wednesday, I was happy that my presentation on bed wounds got cancelled – actually just put off to next week. I’m a terrible presenter and find talking formally in front of more than two people agonizing, stressful and to be avoided if at all possible! My day at work was once again very fulfilling. I had lunch at Marie-Claude’s and ate an egg salad sandwich; something I’d been craving for days! Later that night, we went out with two of Claudine’s friends (one of which is dating the girl who lived where I do now and who has returned to Canada but will be visiting him next month). Although the meal was disappointing we had interesting discussions with the guys about sex – which, with most Senegalais, is so taboo, its not to be talked about. After our meal, we searched town for dessert and it was really hard to find. We finally did find cake, but it was not good.

// It is sort of ridiculous how much I talk about food all the time. I’m not sure if its because :

a) I’m obsessed with food – that’s not news though!

b) my life is sort of boring so that’s all there is to talk about

c) life here revolves around preparing food and eating it
Its probably a mix of the three…

My day at work on Thursday was hectic since I had many patients and it finished wicked late because of meetings in the afternoon. I was famished when I got home and had the best Thie Boudjen (national meal) EVER! The maid here, Mami, made it. She is a wonderful young woman and I should take a picture of her! In the evening, I went for supper chez Marie-Claude’s as she was going to prepare her first beef mafe (tomatoe and peanut sauce). This time, I brought a bottle of wine and Claudine had a swiss knife so we were able to open it in a matter of 30 secondes…

Friday after work, we went to Marie-Claude’s for a lunch of left-overs before leaving for our weekend destination: Kafountine.
(Image left: view of pirogue boats in front of the fisherman village - taken from my hotel)

(Image right: fisherman's village - taken from motel)
Finding a taxi to get to the road transport station was long; waiting for an-intercity taxi to fill up was even longer! It took us the entire pm to get to Kafountine which normally only takes two hours. I was lucky and sat in the front seat for the entire ride. There was beautiful scenary getting there, but the roads were aweful. We passed through a town called Dhiouloulou which is surprisingly fun to insert in any conversation. On the way there, I saw a monkey cross the road! And several chickens too, but that’s more common ;)
(Image left: view of pirogue boats in front of the fisherman village - taken from my hotel)

Our motel was right on the ocean in a rasta type place. It cost 5000 CFA per person per night (~12.50$). There was a black out in the evening so we had a candlelite dinner which was pleasant. Our walk back to the beach was splendid with the almost full moon out, the endless sandy beach and the enchanted waves. I slept until quite late Saturday morning and did absolutely nothing during the day. My highlight of the day was walking on the beach by the fisherman’s village.

It’s amazing seeing the fisherman work; they are so strong and brave with the big waves and heavy crates of fish. Given the physical nature of the employment, they are fine male beings to look at too! I was so lazy on Saturday, I didn’t even get around to swimming in the ocean. My how the day was relaxing!

(Image right: the beach to the right of the motel)

On Saturday night, we got invited to a BBQ at a guy we met on the way to Kafountine (in taxi). His garden was beautiful with many trees and flowers. He made us delicious grilled fish and we drank just enough wine. While enjoying the evening, I got a call from Phil on my cellphone and nearly had a heart attack when it rang. I just can’t get used to the flashing lights, abnoxious noise and nausious vibrations the modern piece of technology makes. It being in my pocket at the time it rang, I jumped ten feet in the air and nearly knocked the table over! Will I ever get used to having a cell phone??? Apparently not!

(Image left: the motel - little huts with no electricity and communal bathrooms)

Sunday, I read more of my book and relaxed. I very much enjoyed Kafountine as it is naturally beautiful (in a different way from Cap Skirring) and has a relaxing/festive vibe to it. My return to Zig was uneventful. El Hadj was very happy to see me and gave me a lot of affection which was quite nice!

(Image right: side roads of Kafountine - charming really!)

Unfortunately all the computers I use and my USB key are plagued by viruses. I wanted to add one last photo of a place next to the motel where I stayed. It is a pirogue building yard. Maybe I'll get it uploaded one day...

Return to Cap Skirring and one trooper down

The plan for the weekend was to go to Cap Skirring with Rama and Astou since they had never been and Rama would be leaving for Dakar soon. Marie-Claude and Claudine left after work on Friday but I stuck around to leave Saturday morning with Rama and Astou.

(Image left: taxi 7-places we take to get out of town. Fine beasts I tell you!)

As I had sort of been expecting, Astou bailed, saying El Hadj was sick (the kid wasn’t really sick, but what can I say?). I therefore headed to Cap Skirring alone with Rama. I was sort of stressed all weekend because I didn’t bring much money. It isn’t because I didn’t have any, its because I wasn’t able to take enough from my secret stash in my room and insert it in my wallet. There are ALWAYS people in my room and I don’t want them to know where I keep my money! I now realize how I used to take my privacy for granted when really, it’s a privilege.
Lama, the guy I had met last time I was there and who was more normal than the others, found me and escorted us to the motel.

(Image right: view from my motel)

I had a nice afternoon on the beach (swim, flew kite) and Rama (who can’t swim) enjoyed the sand + I showed her how to build a sand castle. The others (Marie-Claude, Claudine and her loverboy) had trouble finding lunch since it is low season. I find the tourism industry here very primitive in that finding food, a basic need, is so hard to accomplish!

(Image: the motel rooms are basic but have everything one needs...)

I was happy to have eaten like a pig upon arriving at the Cap and before heading to the hotel. As the sun set, I went for my first jog of the trip. It felt GREAT! My foot hurt a bit since I’m not used to jogging barefoot. I also got bit by a sandfly… I don’t know how long I jogged for, but my endorphin high afterwards was incredible! It started storming after the sun set and we had to get to town to eat dinner. The taxi screwed us by charging 3x the price. They can pretty much charge anything they want when its raining… My meal (lotte fish?) was very good but the mosquitoes were vicious!

(Image right: view of Club Med beach)

Unfortunately, Daouda, who I thought was my friend, started calling me. I missed his calls and he eventually sent a text message with a “more than friendly” tone. I replied, saying that I’m happily married and NOT interested. He’s called since but I decline his calls. I’ll eventually speak to him again, but I’m sending him a very clear message now…
This is a recurring problem for me here in Senegal. Its really hard to make true friends. Everybody is so easy to speak with and spend time with, but they seem to always have second intentions (be it to sell something or to date you).

(Image left: Claudine, myself, Rama and Marie-Claude - taken at my motel)

Back to my weekend: I slept really well and woke up very late on Sunday morning. I had coconut and oranges for breakfast in front of a nice view of the ocean. After flying my kite on the beach for a short period, I headed back to town to find a taxi and travel back to Zig.

(Image right: my hair is growing fast! Me at motel)

Rama seemed to have appreciated the trip but she says Dakar is nicer (she misses home). Upon arriving home (Zig), I made a quick lunch for Astou who expressed that didn’t feel like cooking. Landing (my father) had left for Dakar for “personal” reasons.

That night, I went to a BBQ with Claudine’s numerous friends. It was nice to be around people my age with no apparent second intentions. One of her friends, Pape, lives right next to me and he seems like a nice guy.

Its funny with my family (more particularly Astou): they always ask where I’m going – which I have no problem with them doing since I have nothing to hide. But when ask about their plans or what they’ve been up to, they chuckle, speak in Djola and never answer me. I really can’t comprehend why, but I feel I’m getting the cold shoulder from Astou. The girls see it too. She can be quite rude to me. She’ll be bring Rama back to Dakar soon. I’m hoping things have blown over once she returns.
(Image left: myself, Astou and Rama - taken back when things were going well. I really do want things to be like they were before!)

On Monday, I had a long day at work which included my first home visit. The visit was very desolating: young girl with a presentation much more limiting than what her given diagnosis would indicate; no money to afford care nor transportation to get help. She was Claudine’s patient and we were supposed to see her jointly but Claudine got sick and didn’t work. At work, Abba – my supervisor- gave me and Clau a hard time about missing the meeting last week. It was clear to both her and myself that there was no meeting but he insisted that he had made it clear that there was one. He’s a hard-headed man who must believe in telecommunication. What can I say ?

After work, I met up with the girls downtown since Claudine had gone to the medical clinic and needed help with drawing up a care plan. It was stressful seeing as how it involved a medical procedure in Dakar. I won’t expand any further on her illness since I respect her privacy. Since she needed some moral support, we decided to stick together and make a delicious fruit salad chez Marie-Claude’s. With all the walking, I started noticing that my right foot hurt. Weird.

The next day, the girls and I went to the fast food restaurant near work and had the daily special for 2.25$ which was very good. We then headed back downtown to get money from the ATM and the girls bought their boat tickets to go to Dakar for Friday for Claudine’s procedure. My exterior arch of the right foot felt like it had a huge contusion for some reason. I started limping because of it.

I thought I’d have a relaxing Wednesday at work since I didn’t have many patients scheduled and the ones I did have cancelled. Turns out, a complicated new one turned up and wanted something akin to an OT miracle to happen. I worked hard…we’ll see what happens. I’m trying to get her to walk with a walker before she shortly returns to her far-away village for school. Again, a major barrier is the lack of material resources and language.
I’m hoping to one day catch up with my day-to-day blogging and talk more about my cases at work!

(Image left: the goats here are funny...)

Anyway, after work, I went for lunch chez Claudine’s (who was freaking out because of her upcoming medical procedure). We then went to Omer – the artist making my sarouel – to pick it up. I really like the pants/skirt and will take photos soon!! That night, we returned to the Fast Food place and had a hamburger and a Gazelle beer! Wow! It hit the spot! Note: they put eggs in their hamburgers here! Two in mine! Yikes!

The girls headed for Dakar by boat on Thursday. After work, I headed to the nicest hotel in Ziguinchor called the Kadiandoumang Hotel for a swim. Seeing as how I haded spotted a WIFI sign the last time I was there, I brought my laptop with me and had a sensationally peaceful afternoon.

(Image right: me on internet at the hotel- my laptop can take photos of me!!!)

I spoke to my parents + Phil with Skype in between swims in paradise :)

On Friday, I was very busy with patients and had to send in my bi-montly report to Canada. Unfortunately, a virus destroyed everything I had already worked on. How crappy! Since my supervisor wanted to meet with me after his afternoon prayer, I had to stick around work for way longer than I usually would. I therefore went and had lunch at the nearby restaurant with an interesting textbook. My meeting with Abba actually went well. He is very weird though.

(Image right: taken just outside of where Claudine lives/lived. Its hard to see but there is a wheelchair on the roof of the home under the palm tree. So random!)

My plans for Friday night were to go to a football (aka: soccer) game with collegues. After work, I went out before sundown to get an errand done near home with El Hadj. On my way back, I figured it would be nice to get another sarouel done and stopped by a tailor on my street to get information. Seeing as how the tailor was praying, I simply waited near the door on a bench with El Hadj on my lap. While sitting two Kancourans came around the corner…

An explanation of kancourans: I was explained that they are “evil spirit hunters” – An African village tradition whereby a young man gets dressed up in a brown saskwatch-looking suit with a macheti in each hand walks around a village and scares people; mostly women and children. Young men follow behind the Kancouran and they dance, run and chant. They apparently drink and get stoned before engaging in this act. From what I’ve seen so far, they walk around and strike their macheties, creating sparks in the air; they run after children and women (even elderly), they stop taxis and strike their machetis at the passengers in the back… pretty barbaric.

So, as I was sitting pacifically with a kid on my lap, one of the kancourans who had already passed by me came running back towards me from behind a bush and hit me *@#$!#$ hard with the flat side of his macheti on my thigh (thankfully not the one El Hadj was sitting on). I was so surprised I did not react. And it hurt like a bitch. Before I knew it, the idiot was gone and out of site. The tailor who had witnessed the act but didn’t speak much French said that the guy was completely crazy. Startled, I was divided between:
a) run after kancouran and try to kill him by wringing his neck after having crushed his nuts
b) go to the police station to file a report since the station is on my way home
c) cry and go back to Canada
I ended up going back home with El Hadj in my arms. I could help it… I started crying on my way home. I had never felt so startled, far away from home and lonely in my life. My family tried to help me by saying that the Kancourans here in Zig are idiots since they aren’t supposed to actually hit people and that they are drugged and crazy. Astou kept on repeating: “stop crying because if you continue, we’ll all start crying too”. I’ve never heard this sort of expression to help console someone – perhaps it is common here… That night, I skipped supper and went to bed at 8pm. I seriously contemplated what in the world I was doing… trying to help a society in which random people dressed in costum physically attack women and children.

(Image left: hit on my right thigh...)

For the first time, I thought about returning back to Canada prematurely. I cried myself to sleep and slept for twelve hours!

My morale was low Saturday. I had invited people over for supper so I kept myself busy throughout the day and tried not to think of the aggression for the day before. I washed my underwear since apparently the maids don’t do this task here. As it happens, there was a water shortage which complicated the already labourious taks. Then, I went to the market alone. Astou had said she’d accompany me and help me but at the last minute, she said she had a headache and didn’t want to come. I pretty much worked all day to prepare the meal. And an awesome meal it was! Carrot salad, hors d’oeuvres, beef shish kabobs with rice and my home made coconut dessert. I was impressed with myself since I don’t usually cook for crowds. I fed about 13 people!

Astou, once again, was a bit odd since she made me and my guests and I eat separetly from the rest of the family. So much for making the effort to cook for my family! I noticed something very interesting after the main meal: our plate (4 white people plus 2 black) had only rice left in it. Their plate (all black: my family, the maids and the other boys who live here) had no rice left; there were veggies left and all the red tomatoes had been left on the plate. This shows how much people love their rice here and don’t really like fruits and vegetables. They also perceive red tomatoes as having expired and usually only eat the green ones.

Corité + Île aux Oiseaux

Wednesday October 1 marked the long awaited date of the end of Ramadan: la Corite. A grand Muselman holiday, people get a new boubou made, make good food, dance and visit their family and friends. It lasts the entire day from morning to night. My family was quite vague in explaining anything further to me. I had been invited to their festivities as well as to Claudine’s family’s celebration. In the end, Astou, my mom, gave me a hard time about leaving her party to go to another’s. Had I known it would offend her, I would not have accepted Claudine’s mom’s invite… The plan was for us three girls was to start the day at Claudine’s and then head to my family’s.

(Image left: the three of us dressed up in our boubous and melting. As you can tell by our facial expressions, having the time of our lives...)

The party, my family explained, started with cleaning up, then eating breakfast, then washing, then getting dressed in new boubou, cooking big meal and eating. In the end, it was just like any other day… Certainly disappointing according to my definition of a party!

We wore our ridiculous-looking boubous and brought pop bottles as gifts. Since they are Muselman, they don’t drink alcohol so bringing a bottle of pop is like bring a bottle of wine… With all the hype, I was expecting a fun-filled day of eat and dance. In the end, it was an extremely boring day. My impression of Muselman parties is that you sit and wait for the time to pass and for food to be ready in the heat of the day dressed in uncomfortably hot and ridiculous-looking clothing. Indeed, apart from Corite, Astou had shown me videos of her wedding and El Hadj’s first birthday (both of which she hired someone to make a video of the event). The guests just sit and yeah…they just sit there. Most of them don’t even talk and certainly don’t look entertained or happy. Weird.

(Image right: we danced for about five minutes. from left to right: Claudine, myself, Tabaski (Clau's sister) and Cumba (Clau's mom))

Returning to my celebration of Corite: by the time we ate the meal at Claudine’s I had waited for 2.5 hours and was famished. I left in a hurry to try and make it back to my family’s main meal on time. It wasn’t too classy leaving one relaxed milieu to go to another, but I think I saved face with my family. I ate a second time in the same hour. The day went on and on …uncomfortably hot and boring. I didn’t see much dancing although there was more music in the air than usual. My best moment of the day: taking off my sweat-drenched boubou.

(Image left: Claudine, myself, Astou, Marie-Claude dressed up in our boubous for Corité and El Hadj)

Tabaski is the next big Muselman holiday. Its in mid-November and they celebrate by killing lambs and eating them. I hate lamb meat and I’m not looking forward to more partying “Muselman style”… Perhaps I could take advantage of the time off work and visit the Gambia instead? To be determined….

Corite is a national holiday. Whether the following day is an official holiday or not is not clear to me. But everyone had told me that going to work would be useless since patients would not come and the department would probably be locked up. Apparently, people tend to take the day after Corite to relax after the grand festivities… Go figure!

In anticipation of the fact that I would not need a day off to relax after a holiday, I organised a visit to an island near Ziguinchor called Bird Island. As the name indicates, it is an estuary for birds. I had heard that the bird season was ending soon so I was happy to fit it in my schedule. Our guide’s name was Ousmane and he was on time, professional and kind.

(Image right: view of Djilapao island from the pirogue)

The excursion cost 15 000 FCA (about 37$) each and we were four: us three girls plus Marie-Claude’s roommate, Sabine (a retired teacher from Germany). There were apparently good chances of seeing dolphins in the fleuve Casamance and the excursion included visiting the island of Djilapao.

(Image left: taken on the island; the kids were following us around. Many baobab trees, very beautiful)

The ride in the pirogue boat was very enjoyable and I loved being able to see Ziguinchor from the water. We visited Djilapao Island first. It is inhabited by about 120 people. During our tour of it, the kids from the village followed us closely. They have no other natural sources of water apart from the rain. They grow rice and mostly fish. They also take care of traveller’s sailboats who need to store their boat for a prolonged period of time (because it is less costly than leaving it at a marina in Zig and more secure). The children stay on the island during summer vacation but return to town (Zig or another city who’s name I forget) for education. We had lunch on the island: more shrimp than us four shrimp fanatics could handle! Delicious!

After lunch, we got a tour of a home in the village which was inhabited by a recently deceased artist who had intricately decorated it’s interior.

(Image right: art inside the home: people playing the djembes = tam tams)

The ceramic statue-like art was integrated within the walls of the home and really made it alive! It was interesting to hear the explanation for

the art beings. The guide explained to us that they didn’t know the story behind many of the pieces since the artist died prematurely.

(Image left: our pirogue with captain, Ousmane)

(Image right: bir

d on the island; many like these...quite big and prehistoric looking)

We headed to Bird Island which, in reality, is not an island but a grouping of mangroves. Curiously, it is like an island because there are tons and tons of birds on it – and not on the other nearby mangroves. Ousmane explained that the birds go there because it is protected from storms and predators.I wish I knew more about birds, because I’m sure a bird watcher would have gone ballistic with this place. There were many prehistoric looking

birds which I was able to get a very close look at. Additionally, I had the privilege of seeing newborn chicks in their nests.

I was disappointed that I didn’t see any dolphins: apparently they usually swim by the boat. I did thoroughly

enjoy the excursion though. Afterwards, since we were by the fleuve where all the nice hotels are, we opted for ice cream (which you

can only get in themost exclusive of places). What a treat! It hit the spot!

Image left: me in the pirogue)

That evening, in the spirit of the end of Corite and in an act of unusual charity, I decidedto go to the hospital and give bananas to patients. On my way there, I ran into a “friend” -lifeguard at the pool called Daouda –who kindly helped me negotiate the bananas and carried them as I distributed one to each patient. I was pleased to see that all the patients were in the company of members of their family or friends. Not one was alone! The patients seemed to appreciate my gift.

I went in to work on Friday and had a really interesting day which included my first community visit (returning a patient to work). After work, I relaxed: read my book, went on internet and spoke with my folks on Skype. On my way back home, I ran into Daouda and had a beer with him. My Guinness was exquisite! I was late for supper with my family since I was sure we’d eat at 10pm. But since Ramadan is over, they had switched to eating at 8pm.

Birds and Kings, Markets, Work

I added more photos...

Image left: for all those of you who knew Cadeau; my dog who broke my heart. She was from Guadeloupe which is a Caribbean island currently populated by the descendants of slaves from Africa. Well, I think the street dogs in Guadeloupe (commonly called Creole) were also descendants from Africa. Indeed, the street dogs here look exactly like the Creole in Guadeloupe. My heart always suffers a pang of sorrow and nostalgia when I see a dog like this… enough said….weep. Just in case doggy heaven has internet, I say: Cadeau! I’ll never forget you!)

My end of the week before last ended (Friday September 26) with our weekly meetings with my supervisor, Abba. He gives us two new objectives per week which are fair and relevant. The problem is he talks so quietly, we have to strain our ears and ask him to repeat all the time. He’s a bizarre man… I’ll talk about him more in the future…

(Image right: supervisors with us three girls: Melissa, Abba Diatta, Claudine, Omar Diakate, Marie-Claude)

After work, I met up with Marie-Claude at her home (she had finished earlier) and we ate a vegetable omelette she had prepared which felt great because I was really deprived in fruit and vegetables. Indeed, I knew my diet was off since I hadn’t been to the toilet since Monday! Astou, the lady she rents from taught us how to cook shrimp (the Senegalais way) and make miniature donuts (yummy and very addictive).

(Image left: the hospital's entrance)

After our cooking session which took the entire afternoon, Marie-Claude had a friend come who is a tailor and he brought us to his boutique where we looked at his materials. I subtly told her his prices were high and we escaped to go to the same place I had bought mine. So, while she was choosing her material, I went to the tailor my Astou had recommended (with Astou) and got my measurements taken for my much needed boubou for Corite (the following week). The tailor only spoke Wolof so Astou had to translate. I crossed my fingers and hoped that he had understood what I wanted. We rushed back home on time to drink the tea for the rupture of the fast. Come to think of it, we were quite productive!

On Saturday, we headed off to Oussuye, a village about an hour away from Ziguinchor and which is on the way to Cap Skirring. We had selected this destination for our weekend because it was the King’s Celebration. We didn’t know much about Oussuye nor about the King, but had been told it was a fun thing to go to. Indeed, one of the kinetherapists, Sagna, I work with had encouraged us to go and met up with us once over there. They celebrate their king by having multiple traditional wrestling rounds. In the end, it was a lot of hype for nothing much… The festivities on the Saturday were very minimal: the wrestlers (boys and young men) got dressed up in their wrestling clothing and made a procession within the village. That’s pretty much it. So we spent the rest of the day and evening eating, walking across town, having a drink, switching places and eating more. Kinda boring, really.

On Sunday, Sagna came to our motel to escort us back to the village where the festivities would take place. We sat around for quite some time talking. We had some interesting conversations about my profession and homosexuality here (two unrelated subjects, I assure you ;) The wrestling matches for the King of Oussuye took place in a beautiful field, which had it been in North America, would have undoubtedly been transformed into a golf course… Claudine, obsessed by lions, kept on searching the horizon to see if there were any…pretty funny. Before the wrestling started, the King walked around the field with other men and before that, we waited for something to happen for a very long time. The wresting, although interesting to see what it was, did not enthuse any of us girls. We didn’t stay for the entire event and headed home earlier.

(Image right: scenery of Casamance region on the way back from Oussuye during sunset)

Once I got back home, a miracle happened: I went to the bathroom the first time in six days. My computer was open that night and I had to express my excitement:
“ Hadn’t had a bowel movement since Monday! That’s 6 days! I’m so happy, I feel like celebrating! Now that its out of me (painful labor), I feel like I can qualify it as a masterpiece since it is twice as large as anything I’ve ever seen and it WON’T FLUSH AWAY! I seriously debated taking pictures of it…its still there now…should I???”
Well, I ended up not taking photos but the event remains memorable. Since then, my digestive system has been A1.

(Image left: on my way to work... I see goats, pigs, dogs, lambs, hens, etc. They feed on the piles of trash people form on the street and eventually burn. Another example of fine African waste management)


I was rested and feeling great for Monday. After work, I was extremely productive: I took the bus downtown, got money from the bank (there are only two in town) went to the fruit and veggie market, the dry goods store and the Superette (western store). While downtown, I got the schedule for the ferry which goes to Dakar twice a week.
(Image left: picture of the market where I went to with Astou)
Indeed, I’ll be needing to head to the capital in November to renew my visa. I bused back home and got Astou (my mom) to come to the market with me to buy more fresh foods + a list of other random things I needed (many for work). While out with her, I bought a mattress for my bed since the one I had was gravely caving in. The foam in the centre was all crushed so I had been resorting to sleeping on the perimeter of the bed… this is quite uncomfortable apart from the obvious fact that your crushed to the sides of your bed given that I sleep with a mosquito net.
Rant: I hate sleeping with a mosquito net! It’s like having to make your bed every time you go to bed, you can let your arm hang off the side, you have to fight and untangle yourself each time you want to get out of bed. I often get the feeling akin to a fish being caught in a net!

While at the market, I bought all the supplies needed to make coffee at work. Awesome! There are some mornings I’m anxious to get to work because of my coffee which awaits me! My first night in my mattress was great! I slept very well. For lunch, the girls and I went to the resto near the hospital and had the daily special which was slightly smoked fish. One of the best meals yet! Our plan was head over to the pool for a swim but it started slightly raining so we went shopping instead. We went to the artistic market near where I live to buy hand-made sandals. After that, we wanted to make fruit salad but there were no fruit near the market I live by (odd). Instead, we bought a watermelon on the side of the road (yes! They are in season now and very delicious). Marie-Claude hung out chez moi and we played cards with Rama while we waited for our boubous to be ready. When it was time, I picked up my boubou (we had to return later on to get hers since it wasn’t ready yet). I tried it on and everyone on the street laughed at me. It really looks like a nice pair of pyjamas… I was ready for Corite!

(Image right: trying out my boubou)

Settling in

I'll be adding photos when I get the chance...

On my second weekend since my arrival in Ziguichor, I decided to stay in the city to discover it a bit – and because they were predicting rainy weather. On Saturday, I spent the day at home trying to learn how to be an African housewife. Man! Is it a full time job! They don’t have they appliances we have and take for granted: dishwasher, big sink, washer, dryer. I learned how to wash dishes. The operation is performed first thing each morning and there are a LOT of dishes. It takes about 45-60 minutes and is done in pails rather than in the sink (because there are too many and the dishes are too big). The pails are set out on the balcony and you either stand and bend over or sit on a small bench. Its tough.

(Image left - they have very bad back posture when working here... the women spend their days hunched over like this. BAAAADDD ergonomics!)

The next thing a housewife does is clean – but we have a maid so Astou doesn’t do this part. However, she goes to the market almost every day. I came along with her and it was quite an experience – the smells, the close quarters, the abundance of people, the colors, the small corners. Just being there and watching how things happens makes you dizzy! There is no order in the way the goods are displayed. The merchants set up shop on a tarp they lay on the ground and lay or sit beside it all day, selling their 3 square meters of veggies or whatnot. There were a lot of unidentifiable goods to my realm of knowledge. There is a huge seafood section (very stinky) and I spotted shrimp. I bought a bundle of them (about 15-20 medium sized) for 500 CFA = 1.25$ and had that for lunch : p

While near the market, Astou helped me find material for my boubou.
Boubou: the traditional African clothing (you know…the wacky large patterns from head to toe). The way it works is you buy the material from one vendor and then you bring it to a tailor and have it made to your specifications.
I ended up buying two types of print to make two boubous. The abundance of choice and lack of experience with the fashion made the decision quite hard…

I must admit I was pretty tired after my trip to the market. I prepared my own lunch with a carrot salad and my shrimp. It was delicious. That night, Marie-Claude came over and we watched a movie on my computer: The Secret. I recommend this movie to you as the acting was good, the story original and the movie well made + it has David Duchovny J

On Sunday, Rama and I did the dishes together and it took us at least 45 minutes. My back killed after! I found out that they always eat bread and tea for breakfast… that’s pretty much it! Apparently, they vary what they put in the bread; I was served bread with margarine. I can think of a plethora of breakfasts I’d rather have, but anyways! Its weird how they don’t dig fruit and veggies here…

My day was relaxing: I went to the internet café and then met up with Marie-Claude to go for a swim. We payed 2.50$ for our entrance at a sports complex and swam in a rather small pool (standard outdoor in ground pool in a private home size). The exercise (although not strenuous) felt great. Even better, there was a HOT male who, it turns out, is the lifeguard and is quite agreeable to talk with (but even better to look at). Did I mention he was hot? J

After the pool, Astou showed/prepared me a recipe with lait caille (curded milk? Its like yogurt), fresh coconut and dried raisins. It was delicious and I’ll be making some more soon. For supper (at 10 pm), we had fish maffe; a Senegalease dish which consists of a bed of rice (of course!) and a sauce made of peanut paste and tomato (Voyez-vous les Lamarches, c’est pas juste moi qui agence arachides et tomates :p ) As usual, it was a very good meal. I very much enjoyed my relaxing weekend.

On Monday at work, I got a nice idea of what the conditions are like for patients who get hospitalized in Senegal. Part of my mandate here is to provide a formation to the porters of the hospital to ensure their safety when transporting patients. Hence, during the “observation phase” I had to follow them around the hospital and watch them transport patients. I could go on and on about the things I saw…

Compared to Canada (even Quebec, Mom), the facilities here are abominable. The rooms are very basic: about four beds to each small room. There are no fans, no air conditioning, no bed sheets, no meal service, no bathroom nearby. There are two inpatient floors with a flight of stairs separating the two; no elevators (curiously, ortho and trauma are located on the top floor…) There are about 4 nurses for about 60 people. Much of patient care is delivered by their family or friends, termed “accompagnateurs”.

(Image left: view from within the hospital. Its very ... there are cats, goats, dogs, lamb grazing between the buildings and sometimes within...)

The accompagnateurs basically camp out in the hallway and take care of their sick one: prepare food, accompany to bathroom or empty catheter or provide basin, make bed, position in bed, buy prescribed medication, change clothes, etc. It was explained to me that some sick people are refused hospital care if they don’t have the accompagnateurs to take care of them…Furthermore, if you arrive at the emergency room and cannot pay for treatment, you will not get it. For operations, patients have to provide all the medications, suture string, gauze, fluids, etc. that will be needed for the operation. For example, I saw a guy in the ER get transported to the OR on the stretcher (which is made out of metal with no padding and is rusted); he had two big boxes on him filled with items for his operation. What a scary thought! Yes, I saw the operating room and NO I do not want to get sick in this country! Like I said, I could go on and on…

I didn’t work too much because it was raining hard therefore my patients did not come. This means I finished work early. I had previously spotted a nearby restaurant which served food (AND alcohol) at lunchtime during Ramadan and was anxious to try it out. It took a long time for the food to cook, but the staff were very nice and the meal very good. I had a delicious and ample shrimp meal with wine for 9$. We have every intention of returning on a regular basis.

Tuesday after work, we returned to the swimming pool and luckily, the hot guy was there J This time, I brought Astou, El Hadj and Rama. They don’t know how to swim. I had not realized how hard it must be for an adult to learn to swim and how natural it is to me. El Hadj was pretty much fearless of the water.

The next night after work, we were invited to the couple with whom Claudine had lived with the first time she was here. The man is from here and is an artist who makes “batique” clothing. He will be marrying a French woman, Julie, this November who was able to find work at an NGO here after having fallen in love with him. We had interesting conversations about the Senegalease people and their way of life… the good, the bad and the ugly. After our meal, Omer started to show us his batique clothing but it a storm arrived and the power went out. We got a viewing of the clothing in candle light and we tried some pieces on. I placed an order for a sarouelle (a neat mix between skirt and pants – I still haven’t received it, but I’ll be taking pics once I wear it). The storm persisted way past bedtime. When it storms here, it’s not really possible to walk on the streets because the rain is very violent. We were stuck; ended up waiting out the rain and going to bed really late…

We had been invited to a Christian nuns ceremony on Thursday afternoon which we went to, figuring that it would be interesting to see how church is here. We ended up taking a taxi to a foreign part of town and walking around, looking for the church. We got there late, but this made no difference since mass lasted over 3.5 hours! Can you believe it?? I get ants in my pants when I have to sit through a normal mass at home…this one just didn’t seem to have an end. Plus, as usual, it was very hot. Wow! I was so tired of doing nothing for such a long time. The highlight was when I got to get up and walk 30’ for communion. I’ve never been so delighted to do the communion thing… haha. Apart from the length, mass here resembles ours. Their music is a lot better than ours; they mix the organ with the jembe (aka: tamtam) and have nice rhythms. All in all, the experience made me attain an as-of-yet unknown level of boredom. But, Mom, you must be proud of me – I went to church of my own volition!

Life Here + Week 2 in Zig

My internet connection is finally decent so I'm uploading some photos I would have liked to in other blogs. The following are photos I took on my way to work:

First Image: kids on the street happy to be in a photo

Second Image: Astou and Rama in the girls' room. Notice the drawing in the background from my nephews and neices!

Third Image:
The city bus (and the same type we took to go to Cap Skirring). On top of the driver, there is one guy inside who collects the money and another who hangs out on the bumper who helps people get on\off the bus and taps the bus to tell it when it can start moving again.

Fourth image: Taken in Dakar airport. A slot stand to slip your coins to donate. The Africans don't get the concept though... They filled it with trash! Aye!

My typical evenings after a day of work consist of: taking nap from around 3-5 pm, taking a shower if I wake up in sweat, going on internet or just hanging around, or getting errands done (going to the market if not too late). At 7 p.m., life stops and its time to rupture the fast (Ramadan). The mosques pray on loud speakers which I can hear from home. At first, I thought it was someone who lived nearby that is crazy who was yelling… They rupture their fast with a warm beverage and bread followed by prayer. They haven’t eaten all day so they are hungry; this is why life literally stops. Stores close, people on the street disappear; its quite eerie. In my family, Astou makes a sandwich with whatever she has. On some days, it was fried onions and shrimp, on others it was left over pasta (with oil and salt) from my lunch. She makes a very bizarre but excellent tea with chewy mint tablets, sugar, Senegalease tea, concentrated milk and instant coffee. The concept is not at all appealing, but its surprisingly good!

Evenings are spent doing pretty much nothing (talking, watching tv, walking outside). At 10 p.m., Astou serves supper. Mmm Mmm. She is an excellent cook. We eat in a circle out of a common round dish (usually a bed of white rice with meat/fish and sauce). Everything is made from scratch. Everyone has a spoon and eats the portion that’s in front of them, zeroing in on the centre in a cone shape. Since they eat so much fish, they throw the bones out on the floor in front of them. After supper is done, the floor is quite a mess but it being ceramic, it is very easy to clean. I have trouble getting Astou contribute to the cleaning up process…

People end up going to bed around midnight. I usually hit the sack earlier. I say “people” because there are always random guys eating and sleeping here. They are nephews or distant nephews or sons of Landing’s friends. It is quite weird co-habiting with them because they stay in the boy’s room and listen to radio or do absolutely nothing most of the time. They suddenly appear when its time to eat and retreat before the women start cleaning up.

Over here, the roles of men and women are very delineated. Women here are housewives. Seeing as how they don’t have automated machines to do almost everything (vacuum, dishwasher, washer & dryer), it literally is a full time job to take care of a home/family.

Week two:

Everything I eat here is really good but they don’t eat fruits and vegetables. For a couple of days, this is fine, but after more, it becomes problematic. Apart from the guilt of not following the Canadian Food Guide, this causes constipation! Since every day for lunch (which is at 2h30, when I’m starved after work) its rice and fish ONLY. Since Marie-Claude is on her own for meals and lives close to the hospital, we figured it would be a good idea to make lunch at her place instead. Conveniently, there is a market on my way home from work so I can pick up fresh produce.
(Image right: market in question)
Its hard though because you have to negotiate everything and its cool when you feel like it, but not for food...

On Monday, El Hadj fell and hurt his toe, breaking his nail. My parent’s reaction was funny: to seek me for aid. I disinfected the toe in bleach water and cut the part of the nail that had almost torn off. To my surprise, I learned that they don’t use scissors or nail clippers to cut their toe nails; they use a razor blade! That night, I had to fan myself to sleep: as usual, there was a power outage = no fan. My room is so hot that I *need* the fan I bought to fall asleep. So, when I go to sleep with the power out, I either use a hand-held fan I move myself or I sleep on the tile in an open space of the flat. When I first got here, there was no fan, but I purchased one and I’ll obviously be leaving it here so it is like a gift to them too…

On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of going out for beer again with my co-travellers and some Senegalais friends. Afterwards, I spent an educative session with Astou to teach her how to use a computer. Landing has asked this of me; Astou knows nil about computers. The problem is that the computer in question is slow; I’ve never seen anything like it! It takes at least a minute for a window open and minutes for a program to open. A true trial to my patience! Before going to bed, I could not take my usual shower because this time, there was no water...

On Wednesday, us three girls finished work way earlier than usual (around 12h30) and we went out for lunch at a restaurant. We started realizing that we getting fat from eating so many carbs. Since we were next to the little store annexed to a gas station which sells European goods, I decided to indulge in some dairy. To my great disappointment, the yogurt I bought (overpriced) was completely spoiled. Its not a surprise given the frequent black outs. Being the wise consumer that I am, I demanded a refund. This was very complicated in this country… Lesson learned: stop trying to buy dairy products that can go bad L. That night, Astou made a dish I’d never had nor heard of: rice with a sauce made of potato leaves (and of course it had fish in it!)

The next day, September 18, I went to Marie-Claude’s for lunch. We made a mega salad! Mmm! Note: making salads here is more complicated than usual since you have to negotiate the price of every vegetable you buy, bleach it, peel it and then cut and eat it. After lunch, it started to pour out so we were rained in for a good part of the afternoon. We ended up giving into our afternoon fatigue once again and napping in the living room. After the rain, we went downtown, escorted by the lady who accommodates Marie-Claude. She showed us the market, including the bigger and nicer European store. I had the best 15 minutes of my entire trip while in the store. Since starting work, I had several patients with facial paralysis and really needed straws to use in my treatment. I asked to buy some everywhere I went but they just didn’t seem to exist. Well! While in the store, I found an entire package!!! 5 minutes later, I got a call from Philippe saying he had bought plane tickets and would be coming to see me. So thoroughly happy, I literally jumped in the air! I couldn’t erase the permanent smile which stuck to my face for the remainder of the day :) He'll be coming from December 21 to January 15 ... Oh so very Happy am I!

My Trip to Paradise

I’ve written a lot! You might need a break while reading it all!

Scroll previous posts because I've added more photos!!

CAP SKIRRING

Friday after work, Marie-Claude and I stuck to plan and headed off to Cap Skirring for a weekend 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 people 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/restaurant 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.

(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.

(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.

(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 :)