Jun
1
Written by:
CBF Volunteers
6/1/2009 11:06 PM
Like a cork exploding from a well-shaken champagne bottle, my six foot five inch body finally popped from my seat and I emerged from the airplane at the airport in Dakar, Senegal. I had prepared for weeks in advance of the trip by studying about the people of Dakar and the local languages, but nothing could prepare me for the swarm of overly helpful taxi drivers and baggage handlers who were waiting as we stepped outside the airport. Fortunately, I was traveling with a friend who spoke Wolof, the local language, fluently. Once we agreed on a price for the cab ride, we sped away through the cool air and darkness in the wee hours of the morning to our accomodations for the week, The Pharedel'Espérance, or “Lighthouse of Hope.”
We slept a few hours that first morning so that we could adjust to the time change and then headed out to explore one of the many markets in Dakar. Being six and a half feet tall and white did not help me blend in well, so I attracted a lot of attention. Everywhere we walked, we were surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of Africa. Anything and everything could be purchased in the market… live chickens, fresh fish, spices, fabric, clothing, cooking items, etc… The market was my first experience interacting with the people of Dakar, so I thought I should try out some of the Wolof language that I had been practicing. I did fairly well with simple phrases such as “Thank you,” “Yes,” and, “No.” Well, I say fairly well. Judging from the belly laugh reactions from the Senegalese people I tried to talk with, maybe I did not do as well as I thought! One phrase in particular that I really messed up was “Maybe later,” a phrase I used often in the market. Each time I used the phrase, I would receive a puzzled look from the person standing in front of me as I turned to walk away. I found out later that what I was actually saying to the person trying to sell me something was “Peanut butter!” Truly, a smile transcends all cultures and languages!
Some of my favorite experiences in Dakar included being in the midst of thousands of people, knowing that everyone who sees you knows you are a stranger, and yet you are treated as a friend, riding on the car rapide, eating in local restaurants, and spending time enjoying ataya, the Wolof name for a traditional tea ceremony. I discovered the definition of hospitality while eating in the homes of Senegalese families. When you were invited to eat, you are with your hand from a common bowl, and you left with a gift! People are more important than time in Senegal.
My favorite place in Dakar was an area named Grand-Yoff. According to the local people, Grand-Yoff has been, and continues to be, one of the poorest areas of Dakar. A center built by Baptists exists in Grand-Yoff that used to house bible studies, work training, language classes, athletic camps, and a medical clinic for local people. As I stood outside the gate of the center, a small group of children gathered to shake the hand of the “white man” as they called me. Using the little bit of French I knew, and the little Wolof I had learned while in Dakar, we sang a few songs together and taught each other a few games. I asked them about school and about life. We ate some chewing gum together. They offered hugs and high fives as I left.
As my travel companions and I pulled away from the Center in Grand-Yoff that last day, in Dakar, inside our taxi with a cracked windshield, no muffler, and doors that would not open from the inside, I wept quietly. I am not really sure if I wept for the children I had just met or for myself. For them, I hoped for a better life with more opportunities and possibilities. For myself, I hoped that one day I could return and make a difference. At the end of that taxi ride, we pulled up one last time to the gates of The Pharedel'Espérance, or “Lighthouse of Hope.” I can remember thinking about how appropriate the name of our hotel was…not just for the place and what it offered to guests, but for the place where I was in my heart… Hopeful.
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