So this weekend was very exciting, starting off with a talk in public health class about STD’s, HIV, etc. made more interesting by random staff members walking in on the powerpoint presentation. It was really hard to focus, because I knew that in a few hours, I would be leaving for a weekend trip to the “desert” of Lompoul (a short expanse of sand dunes about 95 miles north of Dakar just inland from the ocean). Packing was made complicated by a general brownout/power outage due to infrastructure problems and difficulty funding the combustibles that power the system* made more complicated by the corruption (coupure de courant has become an integral part of my French vocabulary here.) Even though my family’s house does not get affected as much because we are on the same network as a bunch of embassies and hospitals, this was one of the rare times that the power was out for more than 12 hours (no storms or accidents on the grid, just a simple electricity cut) so all of the neighbors and my family were milling about outside where it was cooler. This was one of the few times I’ve had an extended conversation with my host dad, when we were talking with one of our neighbors about power outages in the US and their opinions on country development. The electricity cut issue is a grave problem here on many levels (think about doing business, medical equipment, food storage, not to mention other day-to-day activities that require electricity), and one that with the many Senegalese who have to experience the consequences on an almost daily basis, I hope is addressed soon.
*Senegal is not a petroleum producing country
Thankfully, during the night the power came back on, and I believe stayed on the whole weekend, but I lived without it as me and three other girls in the MSID program went to the desert. It was so exciting the leave Dakar, and to see some other part of the country. The Gare Routière in Dakar was the trial of endurance we had to pass to get on our desert expedition. When Lizzie described it as belonging to “one of the circles of hell in Dante’s Inferno,” I was prepared for some craziness, (crowds, informality, a big space, etc.) but not on the level of what we encountered. Even as the taxi pulled up, there were already people trying to talk to me through the window (promoters for chauffeurs) which was highly irritating as I wanted time to process the situation and find a central location to get information (turns out that doesn’t exist, or if it does, you have to pass through too many overeager salespeople to successfully find it). I didn’t realize how much even something as seemingly straight-forward as transportation could be culturally influenced. In the US, I can walk into a bus station, an airport, etc. that I’ve never seen in my life by myself and anonymously read the abundance of directional signs, ask uniformed personnel for assistance, be assured of a fixed price for my ticket, and plan around a relatively reliable departure-arrival time point for the transport. For better or for worse, that’s definitely not the case here. Thankfully, we were able to get into our sept-place (think of worn-down 20+ year old extended station wagon with 2 rows of back seats which all together seat seven) and cruise down RN-2 (which I must stay, was a very nice road once we were able to get out the congested Dakar area and roll the windows down). It was different to see a lot of vegetation and small towns (and to breathe somewhat clean air!) We got so many pictures of the trees and small stands along the road side.
Once we got to Lompoul, the agent of the campement came to pick us up in an old truck. We slung our bags in the cab, and climbed in the benches in the back as it started to downpour. We offroaded it to our camp, and were totally high on life as we got soaked in the rain. The camp was neat, because were we the only ones there besides the staff. We were right on the edge of the sand dunes, and we to “deface the desert” (carve our names etc. in the sand, run up and down sand dunes, lie in the sand, etc.) It was my first time in a “desert” that looked liked the pictures I’ve seen in books, (sorry California high desert, you are in another category). After our chameau ride (camels!) which was really fun, we had appetizer and dinner (which I must say, for a collection of tents without electricity and little running water if any was like dining in a five star restaurant. We feel asleep under the stars (well, at the edge of the dining/hang out tent) after watching the sunset and the lightning from a distant thunderstorm. It was totally awesome (check out the pictures)! The next day, we were on our way back all recharged from being outside of the city, but had to face the gare routière in Kérébar and Thiés and an incredibly irritating sept-place driver who tried to cheat us by changing our agreement en route (all I have to say, oral contracts aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, and it’s been tough to get used to the perspective that foreigners can be perceived by some as ATM’s more than human beings). All in all, I'm so glad I went on the trip, even if the travel was a little hectic, it was fun to hang out and see a little more of Senegal.
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