If you’re in Dakar, then there’s a better than average chance that something’s gonna be in your way every time you step outside your door and try to get something done….
…but can you blame this city? I mean come on, this tiny peninsula serves as a heart that pumps the lifeblood of an entire country from a socioeconomic standpoint. Everyone is here scrambling for space and just trying to make a buck. So let’s all celebrate and embrace the little obstacles that trip us all up, shall we?
FYI, I
was planning to center this entry of twisted nostalgia around the motley collection of holes that pepper this city unannounced. After all, I’m an outdoors runner and
habitante who lives without the convenience of an automobile- so this subject is near to my heart as well as the skin on my legs. Still, once I got to thinking about all of the opened ground in Dakar, the more I realized that the concept of “look out!” extends far beyond the myriad of little African craters. We (toubabs and Africans alike) navigate more than just these trenches on a daily basis.
And before I embark upon a mild-mannered polemic against stuff that always seems to get in my way, I should probably throw out a little mea culpa. See, I’ve probably fallen five times while out running around this town, and each time it was probably my own feet and fatigue that caused the tripping- and not the dangers that following this nasty photograph documenting my attempt at road rash art….
For all you guys who have no trouble calibrating your equilibrium, I still feel compelled to point out that it pays to keep on your toes in this town. Manhole covers seem to be the exception rather than the rule.
More often than not you won’t find any orange construction cones calling your attention to these corniche beauties. Such holes are the reason why I wait for the morning sky to brighten a bit before heading out for a run. It’s never the crime that I’m worried about while moving around this place- it’s unwitting booby traps like this one. And the one just beyond it. And the one further down that you can’t see…
The corniche notwithstanding, sidewalks- if they exist- are not purposed for you, Mr. Babacar Q. Citoyen. They are made for sheep, boutiques and car parking spots. Your place in the mix is walking in the street with the rest of the poor bastards trying to get somewhere.
While Dakar’s sidewalks double as a city-wide mini golf game that I don’t enjoying playing- the impediments to linear travel do not stop there. The actual roadways present their own game of modern day Pole Position. Except here you can select to be the blue plate civilian motorist (arguably the worst driver on the road), a choo choo train, a taxi,or even a horse cart. I no longer find it unusual to see a horse and
charrette moving around a rotary and cutting off a bus or taxi. The Law of Gross Tonnage doesn’t often apply here, because there is no Senegalese translation for “rules of the road”.
The added element of surprise that can trip you up in a traffic pattern? The unexpected yet very frequent breakdowns. This taximan- sporting a fine hockey jersey and snow cap in the African heat- is propelling his chariot up the road under the power of his own legs. For his sake, I hope he has a toubab in the car and is charging him an exorbitant fare to get downtown- because he’s really earning his coin today.
And just in case you needed a bit more motivation to pay attention while you are navigating the temperamental traffic patterns, behold what happens when you squeeze every last ounce out of your luck. It’s the law of averages- and it’s just a matter of time before your number comes up. I swear getting around this place is a game of centimeters.
Hey, lookout! I bet you didn’t see that one coming…
It’s not as rare, but yes, you do sometimes get the odd tree growing out of the middle of the road too. It musta sprung up overnight during the rainy season. Still, this is probably my favorite obstacle to encounter- probably because I don’t have to be concentrating on my footing in order to spot it. Nah, instead I’d probably be looking straight ahead to admire the pretty tree and miss a hole that was located just ten meters in front of it. Good times.
Alright mes amis, there you have it. If it’s adventure in the form of dynamic events and unrequited attention to detail that you seek, then Dakar is definitely your town. As for me, I’ve grown so accustomed to all of this non-pattern that I’ll probably get back to America and drive on the sidewalks and always find myself walking down the middle of the street.
