I’m back in Dakar. And I’m not making any other comments about this fact as I type.

But I will show you this Meganified version of a lobster roll: whole grain bread and sweet potato fries…you can’t get this in Senegal.

Although I didn’t really sleep on the plane ride back here (stupid teenager next to me took 6.5 hours to get comfortable), I’ve managed to be fairly productive today. I’m unpacked, I’ve cleaned my house, and I even fell asleep in the middle of an economics of poverty lecture (given in English!) four hours after I landed. Note: economics explained in any language is interminably boring. So with that lesson learned, I gave up and came home early to sleep- but some crazy slamming/popping noise coming from down below my building isn’t really providing that opportunity just yet. What are those damn fools up to this time, anyway?

I’ve been meaning to post this particular entry for awhile, but I wanted to wait until Christmas was over because the subject had to do with my gift selections. I am trying to stay awake until at least 8pm, so congratulations: you get to profit from my complete lack of crew rest or coherence. Luckily, the photos will more than compensate for the verbiage that I am blindly typing at the moment….

Here in Senegal you can get a lot of the things that you enjoyed back in the States…but then again, there are some things that are difficult to obtain if you’re a fearless kitchen chemist like me. Take what I just smuggled back in my suitcase: three packages of turkey bacon (frozen), a jar of coconut oil, two bottles of walnut oil, pickled jalapenos and miso paste. You can make fun of my random Trader Joe’s purchases, but I don’t care. It’s not like you’re coming over to dinner anytime soon, and I’m not inviting you.  

Apart from this weird stuff that Senegal doesn’t have, I will say that Dakar’s corniche (cliff road) offers products that you can’t really find back at home. I’m not talking about food here, at least not directly. I’m talking about tin can art. You may never catch me buying a djembe or haunted tiki to gaudy up my house, but I do love this recycled so-bad-it’s-good treasure trove.

I had never been to the tin can art place (hard to call it a store- it’s halfway between a stand and a store)- but after seeing a photo of a Père Noël that my friend bought, I had to get down  and get my own version of Santa Claus as interpreted by a Muslim artisan.

(Photo taken by Annie, who roped me into this aluminum mayhem by sending me this visual) Saint Nick is made of a recycled can of tomatoes. And he looks a little mad. I guess a lot of people were naughty this year…

This is Babacar’s workbench (yes, this guy has the same first name as my landlord, and is almost as flighty). I told this Babacar the first time we met that my name was Megane, like the car– and the next time I showed up he said “You’re name is Ford, right?”  I’m not kidding.

Babacar and his guild of artists take aluminum (soda cans, insecticide, beer and food cans) to make whatever is inside their highly creative minds. On the wall here we see toilet paper holders, and directly below are trays, hats, a lamp, ashtrays and other miscellany. Merry Christmas mes amis!

No prices on anything- this is the African marché. It’s not always about getting a rock bottom price; you decide what it’s worth to you and use that as your haggling guide.

Many people got the Christmas angel this year. Discuss.

So I really do like this stuff, and the group of guys who are always posted at the stoop and painting, cutting and crafting as cars whiz by are all very nice. Sure Babacar’s a bit of a used car salesman when it comes to delivering on completion dates, but the wait is worthwhile. I think I’ll be going back several more times for further purchases before I leave Senegal forever  I find it far more fascinating than anything else I have seen for sale on the streets.

Babacar’s clientele base is bound to spike. Check out what just opened up next to him. While I still am a bit mystified at the name (it’s a wine store- neither African nor gourmet), they brag that their selection is impervious to Dakar’s legendary powercuts, and they also make wine deliveries! Somehow it all sounds perfectly logical in this magical land of contradictions, haves and have-nots…

In an odd way, it’s good to be back. But that could be the sleep deprivation talking. That said, it’s 8:02pm, so I win and will now get on with going to sleep. Alhamdoulilah.