the community bank

So the flatmate who had Covid is feeling better, another flatmate who caught it whilst elsewhere in the country is staying away until he tests negative, and it seems that the remaining two of us got lucky and avoided getting ill.

A consequence of the resident Covid-infected flatmate being confined to her room, however, was that she was unable to go to work to collect her salary, so her employer paid the money directly into her new Senegalese bank account - for which she doesn't yet have a card to enable her to withdraw the money so I was asked if I could, please, lend her CFA150,000 (some US$270) towards her rent due on 31 July.  I did so.  Then last week, on Thursday, the flatmate who sublets to us needed a loan of CFA40,000 to go out that evening.  Not an acceptable reason for me to make a loan (and I was brought up to NEVER borrow or lend money), but it was to be just overnight as she showed me her salary cheque that she was going to cash the next day - and of course I pay my monthly rent to her so could always offset any money owed me if I had to.  I didn't want to appear difficult, so made the loan.

The next day I went out to my regular Friday lunchtime haunt - a non-descript looking bar-restaurant with a regular crowd of mostly retired 'intellectuals' (as they call themselves), mostly (if not all) with PhDs, formerly employed as journalists, university professors, etc.  Their conversation is usually pretty interesting, covering subjects close to my own heart such as politics and philosophy, and the place has the added bonus of the cheapest food and drink in Dakar.  Many of these interesting folk seem to spend a lot of their time in the back terrace there, eeking out their small pensions on coffee, beer or wine, whilst those who can afford to also eat their lunch there tend to discretely go into a different part of the building to do so.  I once made the mistake of eating at the table, and one retired journalist asked if I could possibly spare just a morsel of my cheese, only to be loudly rebuked by another person present for behaving inappropriately, the whole scene being quite embarrassing for several of us sitting at the table.

This same retired journalist was there on Friday, and I sat at a vacant seat beside him.  As I was about to order my glass of wine (the cheapest kind they sell, being CFA1,000 a glass), I decided to ask if he wanted a glass.  He accepted and so I bought a small bottle, at CFA2,000, which provided each of us with a large glass full.  Being unemployed and therefore careful with my money, I made that glass last me the two hours that I spent there.  He, however, drank his more quickly and signalled for a second glass.  As I paid my bill I was astonished to be asked by him if he could please have CFA1,000 - presumably for him to use to pay for his second glass.  The cheek of it!  But I paid up, as it would have been awkward to say no, and it was not really very much money.

I arrived home to an annoyed and embarrassed flatmate telling me she had been unable to cash her cheque, as by the time she got seen following a wait of six hours (believable, from my limited experience with banks here), the person who needed to provide authorisation from her company had already gone home for the day.  I told her that it wasn't my lucky day, recounting the story of the additional glass of wine I'd had to pay for earlier.

But the tale wasn't over.  Later that night I was woken by a knocking at my bedroom door - at what turned out to be 02:30 - by my flatmate.  I said that yes, she could come in, and what did she want?  Well, apparently she and her boyfriend had gone out to a nice restaurant for a pizza with something to drink, and when it came to pay the bill, it turned out that her boyfriend didn't have any money on him - as of course she didn't.  So the restaurant called the police, and were holding her boyfriend there as she was allowed to go and try to 'find' the money.  She'd tried calling me, but I turn my phone off when I go to bed and so hadn't responded, so she'd come back to the flat to ask me in person, as the situation was desperate.  I could hardly say no to this, so rolled, naked, out of bed (I'm not worried about being naked in front of another woman, but it is not normal in the Senegalese culture and I felt awkward) and went to check what cash I had; I was able to lend her a further CFA40,000 of the CFA50,000 she wanted, and she told me that this should do the trick.

Later on Saturday I was recounting all this to a friend, when my phone rang.  I didn't recognise the number and so didn't answer it, but it was followed by a text message saying "hello Louise" and then a further call, so I answered - to hear my flatmate's boyfriend telling me that he had an urgent situation with a friend in his truck on the Senegal-Mali border needing money...  Of course I told him that I didn't have any left, but this little run of experiences seems to show that once you show any generosity to someone here, you open the floodgates to further requests.

Our cleaner, who normally leaves by 16:30, is still sitting here as I write this at 18:30, and I imagine this means that she is waiting to be paid some money by my flatmate, who is not yet home (I can't ask why she's here as she doesn't speak French and my Wolof is very limited).  I'm wondering whether she, and I, will get paid this evening - but one thing is certain, that if my flatmate says she still couldn't access her salary today, and asks me to loan money to pay the cleaner, I will make it very clear that I have no more money right now and that I will not be making loans in future!

Covid's third wave

I've not written too much about Covid-19, in part because Senegal had pretty much escaped its grip until recently and so it was having little impact on my day-to-day life (well, apart from it costing me my job of course!).  However, we now have our third wave of the virus in Senegal, and it is much worse than the first and second waves.  A couple of weeks ago our new daily case count shot up from 40 to some 1,300, and whilst it now hovers around 600-700 a day, they are also reporting that the test centres are overwhelmed and turning people away, that Dakar's hospitals are full, and that there is no oxygen left which has been responsible for some of the recent deaths.  Restrictions are slowly being reintroduced; the Senegalese wrestling match I'd planned to go to this Saturday has been cancelled, masks are now compulsory in the street as well as on public transport and in the shops, and there is talk of international and long-distance transport being stopped.  I can't imagine that concerts and nightclubs will be able to continue for much longer.

So this week I've stayed at home rather more than I would have in normal times (there doesn't seem much point in risking a crowded bus when mask-wearing has still to be fully enforced) - but hadn't banked on the virus visiting the apartment where I live.

One of my flatmates is a young French woman, who likes to party.  Not long after moving in she had a two-day-long cocaine- and alcohol-fuelled binge with a few friends in her room - didn't really bother me but the Senegalese flatmate who sublets to us knew who the friends were, and was not happy (the Congolese friend is apparently a known local drug-dealer).  So the French woman was instructed not to bring them here again, and now meets them elsewhere (including out in the street in front of our building) and sometimes comes home in the early hours drunk and/or under the influence of  various drugs, including (we think) marijuana, cocaine and ecstasy.  Her poorly controlled behaviour has already resulted in her getting an infected foot (infected somehow by sea urchin spines!?) and being robbed of both her camera and two mobile phones in three separate events, and I sent an irritated message to her this morning when I found that the kitchen light had been left on all night as well as the gas burning away under an empty saucepan.  She admitted responsibility and apologised, but explained that she felt ill - and asked whether I could make enquiries about her getting a Covid test.

Fortunately our Senegalese flatmate was able to organise a private test for her through her employer's insurance scheme, so two medics showed up and did the test here.  Strongly positive.  So the rest of us also got tested, and were relieved to find that we were negative - although I was intrigued to be told that my test showed that I had been exposed to the virus but had successfully fought it off, possibly aided by the first shot of the AstraZeneca vaccine that I had in early April.  Thankfully some more AZ vaccine is expected in the country next week, so I should finally be able to get my second shot.

So, a day of drama!  Of course the infected flatmate has been instructed to stay in her room, but as we don't trust her to do so, my other flatmate is  trying to use her employer insurance cover to somehow find somewhere else for her to go asap.  Not sure that she'll have much luck given that all Dakar hospitals are supposed to be full.

This evening I had planned to go up to a nearby hotel roof terrace where a DJ plays good dance music every Thursday evening, but I know people there will not be wearing masks and so have decided to be more sensible and spend another evening in my room.  It will be interesting to see where all this heads - how badly the country will be hit - whilst feeling comforted at a personal level that the risk for me seems relatively low.

doing touristy stuff

 

A post in a Senegal facebook group asked if anyone wanted to join a small group of people who were planning a day out to Bandia Nature Reserve and Accrobaobab, as they had space in their vehicle.  Two touristy places (the nature reserve mostly filled with animals imported from South Africa), but I hadn't been to either and it seemed like a better use of my time than yet another day staring at my laptop screen.  Thankfully they turned out to be a nice group of people (from Senegal, the US and Cape Verde) and the social side went smoothly.

At the reserve we took a two-hour tour (that turned into closer to three hours as the guide had to wait for feeding time to find the white rhino), in the back of an open vehicle that allowed us all to get the photos we wanted - imported impala, nyala, eland, roan antelope, kudu, zebra, giraffe, ostrich and buffalo, alongside native creatures such as warthog, patas and vervet monkeys, crocodiles and of course birds.

There are no predators in the 3,500-hectare reserve (hyenas are kept separately in a fenced-in enclosure) and the animals allow the vehicles to get reasonably close.  It didn't feel particularly authentic - especially once we saw some stacks of food which had been delivered whilst we were in a different section of the park - but of course it is always nice to look at such animals and some pictures, such as this of the roan antelope, do at least look authentic!

After the tour, I quickly went round the reptile house (which included a beautiful green mamba and another snake whose name I missed that burrowed itself entirely under the sand), and we stopped for an early lunch overlooking a large watering hole, keeping a watching eye on the green vervet monkeys which loiter and run on to the tables to steal food when people look away.  I'm afraid I wasn't a very good vegetarian today as I couldn't resist the antelope burger.

After lunch we moved on to the nearby Accrobaobab - an 'adventure playground' amongst the baobab trees.  Not really my thing - zip-lining between baobab trees has never been on my bucket list - but some of the others were keen to have a go, and rather than just sit there waiting for them I decided I had to participate!  Not the seven-stage, $29, affair that they were signing up for, just the single $7.50 zip-line down a 315 metre descent from a platform 24 metres up in a baobab tree.

I signed the waiver form, ticking the box to confirm that I have Senegalese-compliant public liability insurance (cough, cough) and they put on my harness.  Apparently it all complies with European safety standards, but I notice that the form said we would have a compulsory trial run, and that never happened.  Rather we walked a little way through the forest and then were faced with a tall baobab tree with a very rickety-looking wood-and-rope ladder up to the platform.  The instructor duly clipped me onto the safety harness and I made my way (slowly!) up the ladder ... this was the view I then had back down to the ground:

The instructor followed, attached me to the zip-line, and told me to go.

What a moment!!  I knew I was properly attached, and the equipment all looked to be in great condition ... but to just step off the platform into the void like that??!  Every fibre of my body was telling me not to do it ... but of course I had to, and as soon as I did I started sliding down the line, feeling very safe and very glad I'd taken the plunge!  This is me at the end of the course, feeling rather pleased with myself!

the St Louis jazz festival take 2

I went to the St Louis jazz festival back in May 2010, and whilst this year's was smaller - due to the lack of tourists allowed into the country at present, I guess - I thought it worthwhile taking the four-hour trip up there to catch some of the action.  Saturday night was the highlight, with Vieux Farka Toure followed by Baaba Maal on the official stage, and Cheikh Lo playing later as one of the 'off festival' acts.  As with my previous visit, I didn't get to bed until 4am.

It's a great festival - with different acts playing all through the night in at least a dozen different locations - but frustrating as there is no centralised information as to who is playing where, and even when you spot the posters on walls, the advertised times of the performances bear no relation to reality.  So if you try to plan a schedule, you can end up seeing just the first ten minutes (or even just the warming up) of each artist before you rush away to catch the advertised start time of the next.  Much better really to just wander about with little-to-no specific plan.  I would love to be able to re-live the festival weekend so as to catch a different set of acts!

There is also a festival parade, although again, with no useful information available.  There was no advertised route, and people I asked didn't even know if the parade was going to happen - but finally, two hours later than advertised, a couple of floats came along the street, accompanied by a few of the advertised 'false lions' that I had been keen to see.  This picture was taken by a friend of mine, whilst I struggled as ever with a camera which insists on cycling through its settings menu whenever I want to take a picture with it:

Of course there were also the beautiful old streets, with their decaying old buildings, to wander around in the mornings (how I envy people whose body clocks don't wake them at around the same time every day, regardless of what time they got to sleep).  Plus the city is considerably cheaper than the capital (taxis around a quarter of the Dakar price, and some ridiculously cheap restaurants), and whilst the festival was held a month later than usual, the rainy season hadn't yet started, and so I walked the streets, soaking up the atmosphere and admiring the old buildings.

What was sad was seeing the signs of severe coastal erosion on the outer island of Guet Ndar.

Apparently the sea now comes 200-300m further inshore than it did some 20-30 years ago, and you can clearly see the effect, with the back walls of what were once rooms now exposed to the elements, the foundations also exposed.  & this community already, apparently, the most densely populated area in the whole of West Africa. Thankfully, work is now underway to build up the sand into a long 'sea wall', which will give some protection although I can't see that it will last all that long.

The weekend ended far too quickly, and I did at one stage ask myself why I am living in Dakar rather than in St Louis!

the music scene kicks off again

Now that Ramadan is over, and with the curfew lifted earlier in the year, there is rather an explosion of live music happening in Dakar.  People sometimes ask me why I am staying in Dakar, which is more expensive than somewhere down the coast and with all of the disadvantages of a big city (noise, traffic, pollution, crime, etc) - and the availability of live music is the main reason why.

So last weekend I went to my usual hang-out - Le Relais - to see Pape & Cheikh, playing traditional Senegalese folk music.  The singer's voice has gone a little croaky as he's aged and he sounds better now than he did on the old music of their's that you can buy.

The downside of live music here is the timing of the concerts, never starting before midnight and in this case as there was a support band, Pape & Cheikh didn't come on stage until around 01:30 (and finished at around 03:15).  I passed the time beforehand in conversation with a man sitting at the same table - who turned out to be a very talented harmonica player.  He got up and jammed on one track with the (jazz) support band and totally transformed their otherwise quite bland performance.  We swapped numbers and I'm hoping that he might prove to be a useful contact.

Then this weekend there was a difficult choice to make, with Salif Keita in from Mali to give a gala performance (= dinner included, ticket price very high) at the Pullman Hotel, and Oumou Sangare, supported by Bassekou Kouyate (both also in from Mali), giving a gala performance beside the Renaissance statue, near to where I live.  Then there was Wally Seck, performing at a much more reasonable price at the National Theatre.  I felt I had to see one of the Malian visitors, and as I'd never yet seen Salif Keita perform live I took a deep breath and purchased my CFA 50,000 (US$93) ticket; fortunately I was able to find a buyer for 41 of my old CDs, which at CFA 1,000 each helped to defray most of the cost.

Thankfully also, being in the grounds of a hotel which might have had guests who wanted to sleep that night, the concert started relatively early and was over by 1am.  I wait to see who will play where this coming weekend, but for sure I will have another musical outing ... and another late night.  I was also pleasantly surprised this morning to learn that the St Louis Jazz Festival will take place later this month - whilst our COVID cases here now are negligible (33 new cases reported yesterday - out of a population of nearly 17 million) I still thought that they might cancel it for a second year.

the contradictions within an outwardly conservative society

 

Starting this post with a very poor quality photo - but you get the idea, I'm sure.  It is a poster currently displayed on many sites around town, advertising a popular series (now in its third season) on local television, called "Mistress of a married man".  The one at my local bus stop, having been up for a month, has now been replaced by a condom advert.

I've been thinking about this, and many other aspects of society here, as my life begins to justify the title of my blog that I am "in" Senegal rather than, as previously, it being a transit point between my travels to other countries.

Remind yourselves that this is a 95% Muslim country, ranked in one 2019 study as the second most religious country in the world, where life is based around the family.  But now that I'm spending all my time here, starting to get a deeper understanding of the country, I'm seeing much more of the many contradictions that lie just below the surface.  Yes, the people here are very religious - their belief in Allah is central to their lives - but that doesn't seem to mean that they have to follow all of its requirements!

Affairs outside of marriage seem to be very common.  I asked a friend about this, and he told me that his behaviour was allowable since the religion permits up to four wives, and realistically he cannot be expected to choose a second wife without 'trying her out' first!  I have yet to get a more 'official' view on this - maybe something for me to ask about in Saudi Arabia, if my December trip goes ahead!  At the same time, women here have quite a lot of clout.  Not only are 42% of parliamentary seats held by women (putting Senegal in the top ten internationally for female political representation), but amongst the small wealthy section of society, women have a lot of money.  As one rather resentful Senegalese man explained to me, the Koran requires the man to pay all household costs - the rent, utility bills, food, etc - so if the woman has any income, that money is hers and she can do whatever she wants with it.  So, as he pointed out, many of the smart (expensive) SUVs driving around are owned by women (not obvious as their drivers will always be male).  Certainly the outfits (both the clothes and the jewellery) that some women wear on nights out is astonishing.

Alcohol is another contradiction.  Forbidden by the Koran, it is nevertheless widely consumed.  Of course there are the more expat-orientated places that serve it, such as the beach-side bars - although a good proportion of the clientele at such places are Senegalese - but additionally, every neighbourhood has a wall with a nondescript metal door behind which is a beer garden of some kind.  This may well be different out in the villages, but in Dakar it seems that most people drink alcohol. Indeed most supermarkets have a whole aisle of beers, wines and spirits - certainly far more than could be consumed by the expats and the 5% Christian community!  It is, however, consumed behind closed doors and not to excess, which thankfully means that there is no public drunkenness.

There is no clear religious prohibition against cannabis (although some Sunni scholars class it as an 'intoxicant' and therefore forbidden), and it is surprisingly common.  The Bayefall community (a particularly Senegalese sufi Islamic sect) consume it as part of their beliefs, alongside music, to get closer to Allah.  Whilst there seems to be tacit acceptance of its use by the Bayefall, it is illegal, and the local press seems to be full of news articles on seizures of yamba, as it called locally.  I note, however, that some of the seizures are from police officers and religious leaders!  There is also - within Dakar, at least - a group of reggae adherents who hold all-night reggae parties, at which yamba is consumed freely, with the police standing guard outside ... I've been told that the organisers acquire a 'special licence' for this...

Some Senegalese have told me that they are a nation of hypocrites, but I think you could also say that they are tolerant and open-minded!

traditional rites - initiation of the boys of the Bassari tribe

Not fully satisfied with a life spent drinking wine or coffee with friends in local cafes/restaurants with occasional days working on the To Do List, I was pleased to discover that the initiation ceremonies of the adolesecent boys of the Bassari tribe were taking place this month.  A real trek to get to the small town of Salemata (40 minutes in a shared transit van; 20 minutes pushing my way through an overcrowded street market; 2 hours in a 'waiting room'; 14 hours in an overnight bus with continuous music and quite a few stops including police checks of our ID; quick taxi ride to the shared taxi station where there is only a 30 minute wait until there are seven of us; 90-minute drive in the seven-place taxi; 30-minute wait with a log to sit on thanks to a kind family; 10 minutes on the back of a motorbike taxi to my very basic accommodation), and then a 4km walk on dirt tracks (including one very steep hill) in 42C heat each day to get to the small village of Egath where the initiation was taking place ... but definitely worth the effort.

The first day involved a lot of dancing by a big group of young men in traditional colourful outfits (performing the Yanguët dance), whilst those a couple of years younger, in the (to me) bizarre 'traditional' attire of football kits, had their hair braided before doing a dance performance of their own around the village.  It was noisy (whoops, whistles and a traditional wooden flute), colourful, and plenty of honey wine, palm wine and millet beer was consumed.  I was the only tourist there.

The next morning I got up very early so as to depart Salemata at 6am and avoid the worst of the heat for the walk there - but also to be sure to catch all of the action on this the main day of the initiation.  Or at least most of the action, as the physical combat between the initiates and their older initiated opponents is off-limits to female spectators, unfortunately.  But for me, again, the main attraction was the colour and spectacle of the dancers - who first appeared out of the trees on a distant hillside, making a sound I cannot describe, so as to remind the boys of what was to come.

Whether these (the Odkwëta od Khëmër masks) were the same guys who had danced the previous day I cannot say, as they remained masked all day apart from during the combat which I couldn't watch.  There were dozens of them, who came slowly down the hill towards the village behind a guy in a different mask - the 'grandfather' of the troupe I think someone called that mask.  Pretty much like the dancers of the previous day, they performed a kind of foot-stomping dance to the accompaniment of flute, whistles and the strange sounds they made themselves.

Meanwhile, the family of each of the 42 initiates slit the throat of a male goat they had brought, as a sacrifice, and cut it into appropriate pieces, after which the boys went off to take part in the combat and the men to watch.  While that was going on, the women prepared lunch - goat meat, of course.

During the afternoon there was a further sacrifice, this time of cockerels, with the feathers then woven into the hair of the now shirtless young initiates to show that they had completed the combat.  Suitably adorned, the boys paraded around the village, where they were presented with big blocks of a kind of cake made with sugar and peanut butter - and of course more alcohol, which had been again available all day.  They were also given gifts - banknotes attached to their hair with safety pins, and long bolts of fabric draped over their arms.

After a long break (to allow time for the consumption of more goat meat and more alcohol), the dancers returned, this time accompanied by drummers, to begin a long night of continuous celebration.  By this time though the heat, the alcohol and the lack of sleep had got to me, so I made my way back to Salemata for a short night's sleep before beginning the long trek back to Dakar.

As this initiation process takes place for three weekends in a row in three different villages in the region, I suppose if I had planned it better I could have stayed on, spent the intervening week hiking in the hills looking for birds and chimpanzees before watching the whole thing all over again in a different village (apparently the one taking place in Ethiolo this weekend will be bigger), but in any case I am really glad to have had the opportunity to see this - reminding myself that people in much of the world are going through all of the challenges related to the COVID pandemic whilst I was in what seemed like a different universe.

Lucky me!