I've arrived in Africa, Dakar, Senegal!

Fri, Sept 4, 2009

Hello everyone, I’ve arrived. I got into Dakar, Senegal at around 4:15am. We got off the plane by going down these steps which were attached on the tarmac and boarded busses which drove us to the baggage claim area. I was taking little photos here and there, sketched a scene rather quickly and then we got off and got in line to pass through customs. I’m not sure it’s called that, but anyways. Standing in line I wrote something like being in a French speaking country is like being halfway awake, you understand bits and pieces of things around you, but not enough to get the jist of what’s going on. My turn comes up and the officer checking passports, Mr. Konate asks where am I staying. Somewhat confused by everything since I left Tallahassee I ruffle through my papers and grin, “uhh actually I don’t have the address, just phone numbers”. Now mind you he speaks English pretty good, but not so good that he understands everything I say and I don’t understand everything he says. He looks like well you are supposed to know where you are staying but uhm… ok. I’ve come to Africa, beautiful land of our ancestors… with not one dollar bill, and apparently no address for where I’m staying. Mr. Konate tirelessly aided me across the next maybe 30 minutes figuring out how to use the ATM to get cfrs, or francs, explaining the currency in relation to the dollar, looking for my welcome wagon, which was not there, calling the numbers I had, the first two not knowing anything about me and barely understanding, calling Tom and his wife my contacts in the US for the family I was staying with and reaching Djibi who would then come and pick me up. Whew. I wasn’t really worried, but Mr. Konate was like, translation into Southern American slang; man you when you come to Senegal you gotta have an address, goodness, or maybe greeeaat-day.

Outside the airport Dakar looked like the hood back in Seattle, or in Tallahassee. Mad people just walking around chillin’ hanging out. I was like wow, I’m back in the neighborhood. Same, same. As people walked near me, or just passed saying what’s up in French, which I didn’t understand, mumbling “uhh, hi” I pondered the stick up and the hustle. I wasn’t really trying to talk, cause my experience is people be tryin’ to hustle. In the time it took to get my ride situated, though, I noticed something. First all the Black people milling around were working. Entreprenuers. People were taxi drivers, selling phone cards, changing money, everything. Not really on the grimy tip either, they were doing business at 4:00 in the morning. They didn’t have the US come-up vibe I’m used to and I didn’t get one crazy look or feel. I liked that. I like seeing Black people together in a space without the threat of guns, or crime. I see it more these days, but I liked seeing it here and I respected the hustle, working/chillin’ no matter the hour.

Waiting for Djibi to arrive I spoke with a man named Ali. He spoke English better than the officer. He told me he was Mandinka and when I told him I was only in Senegal briefly and headed to Mali he was excited saying good and that it was the center of ancient African culture in the region. He said they learn English in school, and as a few people have told me thus far, everybody speaks it a bit in Senegal. After small talk for a bit a told him I was going to study numu and donso tradition in Mali. I remembered chasseur and forgeron, the French words for hunter and blacksmith when he didn’t understand me. When he got me he was excited again, he said “oh they are mystics man” pointing to his head. “They are mystics, they are going to give you something good.” (I’m quoting, but paraphrasing a bit because I don’t remember the exact words) “I’m telling you they have the old culture. They will stick their hands in the fire…” he tells me as he demonstrates emphatically, “… the red fire and pick up a piece of hot metal and not be burned.” “They will stick their hands in to fire and not be.” “uhh, what? You mean like disappear?” “Yes.” “They will give you a [belt] (I don’t remember the word be used I think it started with a k) and if someone tries to cut you, or stab you they can’t because you are protected.” Now this is a particularly interesting point. Ali is part of the Mandinka diaspora, people leaving central Mandeland for other countries like Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Gambia, Cote d’Ivoire etc. The kamajor are a hunting group related to the donso and the Mande diaspora. In a book written by an author I forget entitled “In the Land of the Magic Soldiers” a young kamajor fighter described a having a belt that did the same think. He was initiated into the kamajors when Freetown was under attack and was given a belt which he described as tightening when enemy forces were near and protecting from bullets. He described the feel when they hit and bounce off leaving holes in your clothes but not the skin. So hearing this outside of Dakar’s airport early in the morning about this specific type of belt charm, I found a remarkable cross reference. We talked on about a good many other things before Djibi arrived. I learned it was Ramadan etc.

Djibi arrived, thanked Ali for watching out for me and we took a taxi to Amadou’s house. Amadou Diarra is Tom’s younger brother, Djibi is Tom’s wife’s brother, Tom knows my mother who is a renowned teacher loved by everyone. Amadou showed me around his neighborhood and we talked for a while. I shot some brief video. Dakar is apparently expensive with lots of people living here. His neighborhood is cool with small businesses in corner rooms like cornerstores run by people younger than me. We could do this in the hood back home no problem at all. The places are small and barred off and just stock whatever you might need locally. I love the entrepreneurial spirit and function of it. The buildings are all different colors with the beautiful vibrant green plants some of which I recognize from Tallahassee some of which are different. There is trash in random places, but I don’t think it’s more than in Bond community (where I used to live in Tallahasse which I loved very much) and people here seem to feel more agency about their lives. Everybody is walking somewhere. The colorful busses jet up and down the roads, I forget their names. People are all over the place which reminds me of the hood in Tallahassee, everyone is walking somewhere. There are lots of bright clothes and they women have beautiful colors and cloths on, I love it. As I’m typing now someone’s cooking and the scent is wafting in Amadou’s little apartment. I’ve been shooting a bit of video, but I wont be able to post it until I get back. I’ll probably shoot with the camera on my laptop later and see if I can show ya’ll something.

Everything is good, everything is grand, Dakar’s weather is sooo much better than Tallahassee, it is good to be out of the swamp. It is hot here, but for instance, I’m sitting in Amadou’s apartment with just a fan on me and I’m not sweating. No airconditioning and it’s peace. Maaan. I’ve learned some greetings in a few languages which I remember from earlier study. Amadou’s people are from Segou, I guess on his father’s side as his mother is from Burkina. When he said Diarra was his last name I said that’s the lion and he said oh you do know a bit about Mali and speak some Bambara. Some… I’ll know more bit by bit. I slept a couple hours but my brain wouldn’t stop. Everything has been like get up and go explore. So I got up and wrote and now I’m f’na be out. One.

I forgot to talk about the flight. It was cool. I made every connection, bathed in the bathrooms as I could so I was comfortable. 22 hours in transit total. The 8 hours trip to Dakar from NY I flew first class, but I dunno, I’m not super concerned with those things. I liked the leg room, but wackly they told us to close the windows while we flew over the ocean so people could sleep, so I didn’t get to muse about the crossing back over the Atlantic since the last time I crossed it in chains. I fell asleep and dreamed we flew in over the coast and landed in Africa. We hadn’t yet, but when we did my experience was much the same. Peace.