“Why Senegal?”
You’ll find this shocking, but I get asked this question kinda frequently. Really, a lot of you would probably pose this too, especially if you knew that my idea of paradise includes snow-covered sarcasm and sweat-soaked hockey rinks. Nevertheless, I did indeed ask to come here- and one of my reasons for naming Senegal was that it enjoys a decent-sized salt water coastline.
I love the ocean; it’s in my blood, and it means a lot that I get to be stationed in location after waterfront location. A bonus for me in Senegal is that even when the city’s erratic pulse drives me a little batty, I can always find comfort on a morning run by looking across the pond and envisioning the Hatchville Shipyard not too far away. I’m lucky to be in West Africa, and everyday I am grateful to be living this experience in Dakar. I’m also grateful that even after 20 months into this tour, I’m not resistant to checking out the town to see what else is around here.
This post covers a day trip over to Ile de Madeleine. It’s an uninhabited island located about four kilometers off of Dakar, and it’s another place that I spy on the horizon each time I run along the corniche. There’s nothing there in the way of human support facilities, but I have always heard that it would make a good Saturday outing.
It’s just another day for the mariners of West Africa, but this past Saturday happened to be the day that we’d invade Dakar’s glorious fishing area, also known as Soumbédioune. I’ve run past this place a million times (and have blogged about
here) but today was the first time that I would stop here in search of a lift.
As soon as we step onto the beach, it becomes obvious that we’re looking for some water transportation from the locals. There are no ferries or water taxis over to the island- unless of course you count the kindly fisherman who are more than happy to zip you over there for a thrill-inducing toubab fee. All of the fisherman are well accustomed to this drill, and one of them jumped up from his midday Ramadan fatigue and volunteered to transport the nine of us over and back again. We agree to the price and sit down while we watch him and a few guys move a pirogue off of its chocks and into the water.
I should note that while we are sitting, we see the boat go into the water without any motor attached. I look at my friend Monica, and we’re thinking the same thing:
I’m not spending all day in a pirogue- there is no way you are rowing our asses over there’. So we both hop up and go down to the water to politely indicate that we would like a boat that is propelled by….propellers. “Yes I know,” he assures us, “we’re going to put it on the boat in a second.”
Of course. Duh. We go back and sit down.
The boat is almost ready to go, and we are rounded up to hop on in. You can see the island sitting on the horizon.
Can I remind you once more that we have hired fishing boats as our mode of transport? Your next logical assumption is that these things probably smell kinda bad….and you would be correct.
Away we go!
…..And it’s a mini cruise, a water trip, every ninety minutes on the …oh nevermind.
I’m sitting closest to our driver, Mr. Ndiaye. As we are speeding away from Dakar he says to me “You are my co-pilot! You are going to assist me!” I happily agree, and he motions to a small plastic orange thing floating in the disgusting black water at the bottom of the boat. Suddenly, I understand what it means to be a dakarois fisherman’s co-pilot. Additionally, I learned that écoper is the French verb meaning ‘to bail out’.
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife.
That’s poet talk for they are getting soaked….
The transit takes about ten minutes, and as we cut across the ocean’s surface layer I diligently continue my co-piloting duties. There’s a lot of water in the boat, and I try not to dwell too much on the fact that there are probably beaucoup infectious microorganisms coating my hand. As everyone else continues to get splashed with water, I inform Mr. Ndiaye that he drives like a taximan. He laughs at my joke, but then I realize that this is probably really insulting. Our lives are in his hands, so I tell him that I’m kidding- and then shut up to continue my bailing duties.
“You’re doing a really good job!” Mr. Ndiaye tells me as we near the island.
“I should,” I answer, “After all I am a sailor.”
He thinks that this is awesome. As for me, no one’s sinking on my watch.
As you can see I took my job very seriously…
So we get to the island and are offloaded in the same way that we embarked- hopping into the water.
There’s really not much in the way of shade or sandiness here on the island, but we have brought enough stuff to make ourselves comfortable. This place is perfect.
Even though it’s so nearby, Madeleine is absolutely nothing like its city neighbor. It’s quiet, picturesque, and offers lots of natural beauty (sorry, Dakar!). After slathering on a healthy dose of sunblock, we spent the afternoon snorkeling in the cove (which has some neat fish to check out) and exploring the rocky surfaces.
The island is fairly small, but its topography is diverse enough to merit a little interior exploration. There is wildlife and little baobab trees to explore. This one was really neat to hang out in (and not just because it offered shady refuge from the brutal sun).
This tree really was one big tangle of thick branches. Impossible to capture in one shot.
A short walk up to the highest point of the island gives you a neat view of the city, but also you get an interesting view of the heat index.You can see which view I judged to be the superior Kodak moment.
You will probably roll your eyes at this, but the rock formations surrounding the island reminded me of a place in Ireland. In the following photo you might see what I mean…
Is anyone else nostalgic for the Giant’s Causeway, or is it just me? This place, much like the Antrim coast, is begging for some black and white photography.
I have always found it nearly impossible to just sit on a beach- and this place really was right up my alley in terms of exploration. On the other side of this rock face was a really cool formation. Unfortunately, our swim across to access this spot precluded any photo opportunities. I’m going to have to return with a waterproof camera, cuz it was wicked cool.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. At around 5pm we packed our things up and headed back to our chariot. Time for more water adventures!
We are loaded into two pirogues and enjoy a fairly serene cruise back to civilization. Mr. Ndiaye, who I introduced myself to on the ride over, asks us all our names over the hum of the outboard. He asks me for my name again, and I tell him that he already knows it. He thinks for a second and then yells, “It’s some brand of car!”
Something that I love about Dakar? The fact that my name has a super easy mnemonic device associate with it.
And just like that we are back at the fishing village, arriving shortly after the evening catch has been brought to shore. Our fisherman dude has been really great, and he accepts some of our picnic leftovers that will be consumed once the sun sets and he can break his fast. The more that I think about it, Mr. Ndiaye is nothing like the Dakar taxi drivers: he never showed any sign of crankiness from having to work and fast all day during Ramadan.
Meanwhile back at my place, the sun was setting and people all around me were dining on dates and drinking tea. I watched the beautiful orange sunset and felt happy that I had allowed Dakar to reveal a bit more of itself to me.
I know that I often give Senegal a hard time in my blog entries- and I should probably devote the remainder of my stay to seeking out more cool places that underscore the merits of taking a random boat ride into the unknown. Before this weekend, I had written off Ile de Madeleine off as a place that I’d probably never get around to visiting. Now that I have been there, I can see that this would have been a gross oversight on my part. I will most definitely be returning on future weekends.
Dakar and your ocean, I am glad to be here. When I’m here.
