One of the students in the class I write in the States once asked,
"Why do you call the village chief your dad??" Good question.
My response was this...
in coming to Senegal, the land of hospitality, it is very normal to be welcomed with open arms. My first encounter with my host family in Thies involved my "mom" talking to me in Pulaar, which I did not understand, and then resorting to grabbing her breast and jiggling it. I was told that she wanted to tell me that she was my mother, that I was her daughter. And in Medina I live with a family, and since day one, Amadou Baidy, Chef du Village, has been my Baba. I can see how it is a weird concept for some to conceive, and no, he is no replacement for Harold, but while here, he is the head of the household, the man inquiring where I am going, the one I answer to. And there are times I feel conflicted.
"For Gods Sake, I am 24 years old, do i HAVE to report where I am going? Can I really not go out at night if he tells me it is late??"
My "sisters" and I had to scheme to go to a concert in my town, and I did, I felt like I was a little girl with her sister, plotting against her parents...
"Just run and tell dad that we are going out, we will be back later!"
"YOU do it! I am scared!"
"He will say no! But he won't if YOU ask!"
It feels ridiculous to me at times. I have not had to ask permission or check in since I was in high school, but here is a different story. And personally, I have come to find it endearing.
Recently, I had an incident...
I had a student from Dakar staying with me in Medina. I was taking her to a town called Ndioum so that she could meet with the other students and travel together back to Dakar. I planned on being back the next day. We left around 3:30 to go to the road. Ndioum is only 60km away. But being that travel in Senegal is what it is (read previous blog!) we did not get a car till 7. BUT...we got a car! And then, it stopped. In the armpit of the Fouta, Aere Lao, and we were told to get out, that it was going no further. Annoying-yes. Typical-yes. Going to get to Ndioum-not so sure. So this poor student and I sit at a roadside restuarant (our equivalent of a Denny's) and wait. And wait. And wait. And it is getting darker. And darker. And darker. I am apologizing, and she is being great, and we are playing the alphabet game with British accents to pass the time, and as the shops are closing, and night is in full effect, I decide I will call my home and get the number of their friend here ( a man that wants me to be his third wife.) and we will stay there. I call my brother Samba, explain the situation, and he says to call back because he has to ask Dad for the number. As I am waiting, a FFR comes, and I flag it down, and the nicest man agrees to take us, and this guy we were waiting with, all the way to Ndioum. I call Samba to tell him I got a ride. No luck. So I call three more times. Again, no answer. I'm just so happy to be on our way, and am tired since it is 10 at night, so I forget about calling again.
And I get to Ndioum and decide to stay another day...that trip just wiped me out! :) And I do not callto inform my "family".
So when I return to town the following day, I am hit with questions from my brother and mom...
"Where have you been?? You didnt call? Did you get out of Aere Lao? What happened?"
So I explain and make no deal of it...and then they say...
"Your dad has been worried sick! He didn't sleep last night! He didn't have breakfast! He went straight to Ramata's house and the dispensaire this morning to see if anyone had heard from you. We did not know what happened and you didn't call..."
In walks my dad, "Salimata! Where have you been? I was scared! We didn't hear from you, and I don't have your number! You need to call and let us know where you are and if everything is okay!"
I felt terrible! I felt like an irresponsible teenager that had worried her parents all night...and let's face it, that is exactly what it was. And thhhhat is why I call him Baba. Because he cares for me like his own child, and when I don't call, or when I don't come home, he worries. And while he does not replace my father, he is a great fill-in. And while I feel ridiculous and like a child at times, it is great to know that I have someone that cares and is looking out for me.

Point A to Point B-it is a simple equation really. At least it should be if the country you're traveling in is approximately the size of South Dakota. But it is NEVER really that easy, is it?? Even in the states there are traffic jams, detours, road rage, etc. so I shouldn't complain how long it takes to go from Point A to Point B here in Senegal...there are no traffic jams (not enough cars), no detours (there is only one road running through the Fouta), no road rage (unless mine counts), but there are just a million other factors that make traveling difficult.
Ask any volunteer in country and they will tell you their system/tips for travel...
"Go in the morning. Pay this much. Take this car. Go to this garage, take another car. "
It has become an art. Maybe a little competitive even...
"How long it take you to get to Dakar??"
"12 hours!! I had to wait forever in St. Louis. And I had to share the back seat with two women and their 4 kids. What about you?"
"Man, too bad, I got here hours ago. I got a free ride the whole way in some guy's Mercedes!!"

[o.u.c.h.]

To truly understand where I am coming from, one must first understand the modes of transportation. You DO have options! Here they are, slowest to fastest; pluses and minuses.

FEET: Good for short distances, but not so fast. They are pretty reliable, and you get to decide when to come and go. At times better than a bike, and at times you think it would be better than a car. Plus, it is FREE!! Personally, I go between Arame and my town by foot a lot, which is about 4km, just to avoid the hassle of finding another "ride".

BIKE: Peace Corps issued, so they are pretty state of the art as far as bikes. Faster than feet and free. Problem is, in the North there are THORNS like crazy. You are always changing tires, and you have to fix the problems. Plus, you have to wear a heinous helmet and deal with constant, "Hey, white girl!! GIVE ME YOUR BIKE!!" But, the helmet and harassment are worth it and efficient if you have a nice road and going a 40km radius.

CHARET: Ah, the horse and cart. Even better, the donkey and cart. It is pretty cheap, goes short distances pretty quickly, but ya gotta be able to endure the roller coaster effect of it and be able to hold on for dear life. They can pack people and baggage on, which I find to be an easier ride than going solo and flailing around. I have also had to take a donkey charet 25km and it took 5 hours, so the charet can be a toss up. Take your chances, but sometimes feet or bike are a better option.

ALHUMS: Called this for the colorful writing of ALHUMDILILAH on the front of these. They are large, colorful, music blaring vans that are packed to the brim with people, bags, goats, sheep, etc. They pack about 40 people inside, people hanging off the back, babies on laps, baggage and goats on top. If you are lucky, you get there early, get a window seat and claim your territory, otherwise you'll get stuck in the backless seat or beside a goat. BUT these are the most common form of transportation. They run daily on the main roads around Senegal, but they can also make frequent stops to fill up and so it can become the slowest ride of your life. But if you are in no hurry, in a good mood, or if you have no other options, it is an enjoyable way to feel the wind in your hair, listen to Senegalese music, and take in the scenery.

MINIBUS: Larger than a minivan, smaller than the Alhums, and usually in nicer condition. They should seat 11 comfortably, but here we put 4-5 people per bench (not including kids), so we wind up with about 15-20 people. They tend to be faster and a little more expensive. Personally, I find they make me a little claustrophobic.

7-Place: The seven seater. This is the most preferred by volunteers, especially for going long distances. It is a car that "fits" 7 people. 3 in the very back, 3 in the middle, 1 in front (usually a man), and the driver. And an occasional kid on the lap. Here you have to get strategic. Best seat-front, but good luck getting it. After that, the middle bench is good. Can control window and you have more leg room. The back bench is usually a tight squeeze. The best situation with a 7-place is to get to the garage early, get a seat, it fills up fast, and goooooes; Otherwise it is a waiting game. And sometimes they switch cars at garages or stop for lunch, but all in all, they are your best bet and worth the extra money. And if you can always travel in sevens, it is just like having a personal chauffeur!

FFR: Coined and perfected by Kate Wilke-the Fast, Free Ride. Fed up with garages, over packed cars, waiting, etc. she now likes to do what some would call hitchhiking. And she is good, talented actually, or just overall lucky! Find a deserted spot, put on your best "Im stranded!" look, give a wave, and she has got a ride. Now there are types of FFRs too. Kate seems to get lucky with the tourists driving Mercedes (for my b-day she scored a 2007 Jeep Grand Cheerokee!), or an NGO traveling through. I, on the other hand, get the huge, fish delivering trucks where I have to sit on an 18 year old boys lap, crammed into the cab with 4 men. Hey, it was fast, and it was free!!

The Fast Free Ride is a fabulous thing! A treasure! It can make your day! In fact, any of these vehicles can make or break your day to be honest. It is amazing how travel can affect your attitude and stress levels in this country. If it goes well, and is pretty quick, your golden...walkin on air, feelin efficient! Have a bad ride, and it can turn you into this nasty, mean, foreign person spouting off and stewing about how "this country sucks!" And even the most patient volunteers have fallen to the rage.

I recently had to take a trip 35km (not far! would take like 20 minutes in America) to nearby town to visit a friend. I set off early morning to wait at the road, thinking the early bird gets the worm. This early bird got the snail. First off, I (patiently) waited for an hour for a car to go by. Finally a minibus (noted above) came along. "800 cfa!" the young twerp yells at me. 800 cfa for 35km!!! "He is crazy!" I am thinking, but they love to jack up the prices for the toubaks, and haggling is the norm here, and this guy isn't budging. "It is a holiday!" he tells me. I wanna say, "the holiday ended like 8 days ago," but instead I say nothing and get in. I'm just happy to be movin in the direction I need to be going. I greet everyone and get out my book. (I was feeling anti-social, already irritated, so it is better to avoid talking). And we are 10km out from my village, and 25 from my destination and-clunk clunk clunkclunkclunk-the tire is busted. We get out. There is no shade. ALL the men are assessing the damage. Clearly, we aren't going anywhere without fixing it, and clearly, by the men sitting down to break open and eat a watermelon, it isn't going to be fixed soon. As the sun is getting hotter, so am I. I am annoyed. I needed to get to this town by 11 to catch the car into my friends village, which is 8km from the main road. I'm hot. NO ONE other than me seems annoyed, which ticks me off even more, and NO ONE is in a hurry to solve the problem! Then the driver starts asking for the fare. And I'm like, "Mmmm no. Not paying. I'll get in the next car that will take me. Who knows when you are getting to Pete." Now the scene comes, now I'm feelin the rage. Alas, a car comes, and they will take me! And the JERK of a driver starts yelling, "Don't take her! The toubak's stayin the night. She doesn't want to pay, fine, she'll stay here!!" And everyone in the car starts in..."Just pay. Come sit. Eat watermelon." So my ride drives off and I storm off to stand by myself while the driver continues on and on about the Toubak. And then I see it, an FFR. And I start waving. And everyone is laughing and whispering, and it zooms by...and then stops! I take off running, with the drier at my heels (wanting his fare), and I jump in this car, throw him 100cfa for the 10km and I make it to Pete in 15 min. Sweet revenge! I wanted to yell "HAHA SUCKAS!!" The 15 minute car ride cooled me down and the embarrassment set in...what is WRONG with me?? That is how all the people in the car are going to remember ME and foreigners in their country! And I knew some people in the car!! I was literally embarrassed of my overreaction, yet sweetly satisfied with getting in a car and escaping, or saving face. Like I said, traveling can make or break your day.

I realize that this frustration I feel is MY problem. My American-ness. By now I should know how it is, that things take time, and that no one is in a rush, and that there is nothing you can do about it. But after 18months, I still find myself criticizing and yearning for something to be done quickly, easily, and as painless as possible. A 35km trip should NEVER take you 3 hours!! (Unless you are going by charet, of course!) So often I recall having a conversation with my mom. We were talking about superpowers, and what one you would want to posses. I remember saying, "I would like to wiggle my nose and be anywhere I wanted!" and Mom said, "Oh how sad. Think of all the things you would miss out on! You know, it is not the destination, but it is the journey that is important." She has clearly never traveled in Senegal, but yes, what she said is poetic, and it is true. I would have missed out on entertaining people with my Pulaar skills, or seeing most of Senegal from a car, so perhaps my superpower wouldn't be to wiggle my nose and be anywhere, but it sure as heck would be to be able to travel at lightening fast speed.