I've Seen Leaves of Green...and More

THE RAINS HAVE COME!!!  The start of the World Cup has also marked the coming of the rains here in Senegal.  One night last week, a huge storm came through, and it rained for over an hour.  Unsurprisingly, that rain caused massive joy, gratefulness, and also chaos in and around my region.  On my way back to village the other week, there was one part that I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to cross, because it was like driving through a river.   That was last week, and it hasn’t rained since.  Now, all leaves of green that were springing have become leaves of brown, yet again.  It was nice while it lasted, though, except for all the bugs that came with it, but that’s another story.

Today, I’d like to highlight the methods of public transportation here, specifically focusing on my trip into town yesterday.  First, in order to get to my regional house (Peace Corps has a house in a bigger city of each region of Senegal where we can access internet and much needed “twobaab time”) which is about 150K away, I have to leave my hut no later than 6AM.  I then walk or bike to a neighboring village about 3K away where I catch a “bush taxi” that takes me to a road town.  By “bush taxi” I mean a truck with benches in its bed.  Under normal procedure, the driver starts the truck (by hotwiring it of course), 3 men behind us start pushing it, and off we go…slowly slowly.

They cram as many people as they can in these things.  I’ve seen no less than 15 or 20 people in these things.  Needless to say, they are anything but comfortable.  The first time I ever took one, I had a man squish in beside me, leaving me little room to even breathe.  A few minutes before we left, however, he was replaced by two sheep.  At first, I was hesitant, but they ended up smelling better than the guy did, so it was a welcomed change. 

Anyway, yesterday morning, I got there just in time to get a ticket.  Somehow my host-brother managed to get us seats in the front cab…something I didn’t even know was possible.  I was super excited; because I knew that was going to be the most comfortable I was going to be all day.  At the same time, however, I also felt super awkward.  I didn’t want people to think that I thought I deserved special treatment just because I was a twobaab.  They already think that I’m made of money, so to see me in the front of the bush-taxi would just provoke that image.  There wasn’t much I could do about it due to my brother’s extreme insistence, so I just assumed the fate.

Just when I was starting to accept the excitement I was feeling for sitting semi-comfortably in the front, the driver turns the car on.  Within one second, I felt it…the car’s heat was on.  I couldn’t believe it.  If your country gets up to 130F degrees on a regular basis, I don’t think your cars should have a heating system…just a thought, Senegal.  Mind you, however, that every mode of transportation (excluding Peace Corps cars) that I’ve been on in this country has been almost completely broken down, but somehow revved back into life.  (There was one incident where my car broke down on the side of the road, they opened the hood and tied parts together with a chain-link necklace that they found who knows where.) They wouldn’t have been able to turn that heat off, even if they wanted to.  I just laughed at this whole situation, and they had no idea why (probably another reason they tend to think twobaabs are crazy: we laugh when no one else does). 

Finally, we get relatively close to my road-town (Koupentoum), where we have to go down and back up a small “hill”  (let’s just say “about-as-much-elevation-change-as-an-ant-hill-Senegal” has changed my perspective of what a “hill” really is).  Anyway, we go down just fine, but going back up the truck just turns off…typical.  Some men managed to hotwire it back on and push it up the “hill,” and we finally make it to Koupentoum.  In Koupentoum, I get my Alhum ticket, which is the cheapest mode of transportation you can get in Senegal.  It’s kind of like a minibus…but packed worse than OCI on game-day.   Of course there’s no set time of departure. You have to wait until all the tickets are sold in order to go.  Well, after about an infinity hours of waiting, we finally fill up, and start the 100K to Tamba.  Luckily (sarcasm), a mini ceeb-mamma (pronounced “cheb”) decided to sit next to me, with her mini-“ceeb-y” son, while I saved my spot before leaving.  A ceeb-mamma is a rather large woman who is known for eating lots of “ceeb,” a rice and fish dish here, mainly for rich, city folk.  To add to the list of transportation adventure of the day, of course our driver decides to stop off at every town, village, or small child we came across, just in case anyone was willing to cram themselves into the already packed clown car.  Overall, it took about 6 hours to go the remaining 100K to Tamba…I could crabwalk the distance faster than that, but patience is a virtue, and I think Senegal is teaching me its art a slow as it possibly can.  It may sound like I’m bitter or extremely frustrated by this trip, but oh contraire. I think it’s the funniest, most typical thing Senegal has offered to me yet, and I can honestly appreciate it to its fullest extent...especially now that it’s over.