A Weekend Outing
"The curveball that is COVID-19", as I wrote in my previous blog, really did change our lives. When I wrote the post last March I suspected a significant impact from the virus but didn't realize that it would be nine months before I would travel back to Africa. I journeyed to Senegal for two weeks in November/December 2020 and have since returned with a few colleagues to prepare for the Africa Mercy's next visit.
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I'm not sure what blogging will be like during this trip. Think I'll mix it up a bit. Maybe sometimes I'll talk about work. Other times about general life experiences. And occasionally, perhaps I'll just jot down a couple observations. I definitely want to write but just want it to be simple and easy - however I feel inspired in the moment.
I'll get you started with this...
Yesterday I ventured to Yoff beach in the northern part of Dakar to take a stroll with a friend. Due to construction, the normal turn one would take off the main road to reach the beach was blocked, so we drove a bit farther and tried another street instead. With that decision, we entered the beautiful, colorful, and somewhat chaotic Saturday life of a local community.
It was garbage day. Our first sign was a horse-drawn
wooden cart, carrying a few bags of trash. A small boy of about seven years was sitting tranquilly in the back by the bags. A middle-aged man was at the
reigns. They were joined quickly by two other boys, strangers it seemed, who hopped on
a plank of wood above the right wheel. A bit of a joy-ride I suppose. No one
fussed about the visitors.
As we inched our way along the rather narrow, sandy street, we saw
shop fronts opened to sell their wares and small vegetable stands offering
eggplants, carrots, lettuce, herbs, and peppers – often of higher quality than what I’ve
seen in the supermarkets.
Then we met the garbage truck. People came out of
side streets and shops carrying buckets, bins and bags of trash to dump inside.
On top of the truck, men were piling plastic objects, the obvious ones being
water jugs and oil containers. Senegal is a very community-oriented place, and
it seemed like even trash collection provided an opportunity for greeting
neighbors.
Navigating our vehicle between the trucks, taxis, horse-drawn carts and people made for an interesting puzzle. With often just an inch or two to spare between us and a collision, I was in awe of my colleague’s skills and sense of ease while driving.
Further down on the left, a group of women shared
together in washing duties. There were buckets filled with clothes soaking in
sudsy water, buckets for rinsing and buckets with clothes rung out and ready for
hanging. Despite the hard work of cleaning clothes by hand, they seemed to be
enjoying the social aspect of it.
When we arrived at the end of the street we found ourselves
facing what appeared to be a fish market by the water’s edge, people crowded around to purchase the fresh catch of the day. We had no options for parking and no side streets
down which to turn, so our only option was to go back.
As soon as we maneuvered our vehicle around, we both caught
sight of what would have been a stunning photograph. A young girl of about six years wearing a forest green dress with a small pattern on it was standing in front of
a wooden structure, the front of which was painted a similar color green. Tied
on her back with a white cloth was a younger child of about one year. Despite the obvious weight of the younger child, both
seemed content to just be there, taking in the world passing by.
Returning up the street, I caught sight of shops selling all
sorts of plastic storage containers, a woman selling hair products from a
simple wooden table, and more vegetable stands. Then, on a side street, I spotted
a shiny black Audi waiting to turn our way. It seemed a luxurious intrusion to this cultural experience I was enjoying – a fish out of water so to speak –
but perhaps the locals felt similarly about our Land Cruiser making its way through their community.
About 15 minutes later, after journeying down other sandy streets, we greeted the ocean ahead and parked. The part of the beach we found ourselves at is for everyday living rather than for tourism. The scattered bits of trash, the row of brightly painted pirogues (hand-made canoes), and the horse taking a break from hauling goods to eat some hay on the sand all pointed to that fact. We walked in total for 4-5 miles on sand made wet and compacted by high tide. We passed by joggers and soccer players of all ages. Also by the privately run beach spots where one can catch some shade under a thatched umbrella - though all are currently shuttered due to COVID-19. The waves yesterday were unforgiving, harsh yet beautiful. Teal blue with lots of foam at their breaking point, likely cold as well given that the air temperature is usually in the mid 70s these days. We didn’t see any brave souls trying to swim or surf. No boats at that time either. The only water-goers were two young men washing their sheep where the salty water ran up along the shore.
It was a lovely morning – cool breeze, sounds of nature, exercise, and socializing with a friend – made even better by our random turn down a new street and our willingness to go with the flow. Being free from a schedule and a phone is sometimes so nice.
Two treasured ladies... you and dear Ria. Thank you for this!
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