Maybe I need to be giving myself more credit, because this is more fun than I’ve had in awhile. You know how if you’re a little scared to do something, you experience involuntary hesitation when you know you need to go and do it? For me, I think it has always been the opposite: whenever I have felt that feeling, I force myself to move a little bit closer to the edge…cursing myself all along the way.

Anyway, although it’s been less than a week, I can already tell that this is exactly where I need to be. The first few days are typically the most trying when one moves to a different country- and while I am certainly experiencing my share of challenges, I definitely feel very more than okay about facing them.

Don’t get me wrong- this city center is not for someone seeking peace and serenity. At all. As a white person (toubab, in local parlance), you are highly visible and immediately considered rich by Senegalese standards. As a consequence, you are bound to be solicited on more than one occasion if you venture outside.

 I wore my Garmin walking home (yes, I’m a dork), so you can see my rather circuitous route. (Don’t worry, I vary my route each day, but I still can’t elude all the vendors…)

To wit: every day I now travel to and from the office by foot from my little temporary quarters. It’s about a mile and half walk that I always execute with purpose. Sure there are no traffic lights or real sidewalks in Dakar (it’s cars versus people in the streets), but that doesn’t really give anyone pause- you just have to pay attention. I walk with purpose and switch back and forth across the road where there is space for me to transit relatively unencumbered. I do this quickly, because if I take a more leisurely gait and try to examine my surroundings for any period of time, I am certain to be descended upon either a vendor or person wanting something from me. Kind of like a real-life video game. This isn’t big of a deal, since the people aren’t threatening, but I’d rather just blow by these scads of characters with a “ça va, merci” and smile, rather than get into a discussion.

 

There are also more taxis than flies in this city. From the moment I step outside my door (and maybe they see me in the foyer!), I am serenaded by short honks from opportunistic taxis, all pulling over to see if I would rather ride in their yellow and black rust bucket for double the price that an African would pay (two dollars instead of one). The horns have become so systematic that they now blend in with the other city sounds, such as the fruit vendor today (a lady) who said “nice ass” to me, in an attempt to get me to stop. Taxis, vendors, people looking for a handout- all you need do is look up, and you will find any of these types waiting to approach you.

So you’ll understand when I tell you that I don’t plan on stopping to snap photos of the city as I wander around…yet. I also don’t want you to get the impression that I am mobbed from the moment I walk out the door and am always in popularity peril- because that couldn’t be further from the truth either. It’s really just like any big city- and there are still many citizens who are just out and on their way to work like regular people. I never feel threatened and I am having a lot of fun as I attempt to weave my way through and into everyday life. I know I still have a lot to learn, but so far it’s suiting me just fine.