Transportation
The sister towns of Joal and Fadiouth are located about 140 km outside of Dakar on the coast. Joal is on the main land and Fadiouth is an island made entirely of shells. To get there we took a Taxi to the Gare Routier [Bus Station] in Dakar which consisted of a dirt parking lot packed full of station wagons called sept places because they seat seven travelers plus the driver. We found the metal sign for Joal and climbed into the back seat, which we found to be higher up than the other two rows of seats. This meant that our entire 2 hour ride was spent with our necks bent because the ceiling was too low to sit up straight. While waiting for the rest of the seats to fill up with Senegalese men, we were serenaded by the calls of vendors wishing to sell us fruit, tooth picks, and cookies and by the chorus of Talibé boys asking for alms.
History, Culture, Geography
Joal is the hometown of Senegal's first president, Leopold Sedar Senghor and we visited his childhood home while we were there. Senghor was a very intellectual president who spoke many languages including German, allowing him to survive his 20 month imprisonment in a concentration camp during the Holocaust. As president, he used many childhood memories to build the Senegalese identity. The green color and the star on the Senegalese flag come from the color of his house and the star that was engraved on his dining room ceiling, respectively. The Boabab is the national tree because the Boabab in his back yard was a symbol of his connection to his ancestors; his father's many wives made sacrifices at the base of the tree every day. Before becoming the first African student accepted at one of the Grand Ecoles in Paris, Senghor was set to become a Catholic Monk. The fact that a Catholic President was able to successfully lead a 90% Muslim country for twenty years is a perfect example of the level of religious tolerance found in Senegal still today.
Near Joal is located the biggest Boabab in the region, or so they say. It is so big that you can climb inside of it through a hole on the side. We found ourself a horse cart, driver, and guide (more specifically they found us) and left the beautiful island of Fadiouth behind. Bumping along into the brush on a dirt trail, we held on for life while conversing with our newly made friend Bartholomew. The tree was pretty big, but frankly I didn't really get to revel its beauty because I was being haggled by vendors who surrounded the tree hoping to sell "Africa-ware" to money-laden tourists. We did get to go inside, though, and we learned that the tree is about 850 years old and was used to cremate griots (the history keepers) in elaborate ceremonies that are now banned. Before coming to Senegal, I told myself I would never buy an African art piece that did not reflect my own experiences in the country. However, I cracked under the pressure to buy something and ended up bargaining my way down to a really good price for two wooden elephants. I guess that means that I now need to head to South-Eastern Senegal in order to say that I have actually seen elephants here, making my purchase legitimate.
Joal and Fadiouth are almost entirely populated by the Serer people. (This is the same ethnicity as my host family.) On Sunday morning, Emily and I went to the Catholic church in Fadiouth for Mass given in the Serer language. The service was jam packed with colorfully dressed Believers and what I considered to be a large church building was not sufficient to hold everyone. A majority of the population is Catholic in Joal and Fadiouth, but an equally sized Mosque is also located on the island (again religious tolerance to the max). While on the subject of religion, across one of the two bridges that connects Fadiouth to the mainland is the only cemetery shared by Christians and Muslims in Senegal. According to Serer tradition there, when the head of the family died, the pyramid shaped thatch roof was taken down, placed over his body and belongings, and covered with seashells during the burial ceremony. After doing this for a long time, the cemetery has now become a huge, beautiful mountain of seashells and headstones. The shape of the Serer graves in addition to linguistic studies suggest that these people migrated originally from Egypt thousands of years ago.
Random Reflections
This weekend taught me a very important difference between American and Senegalese culture. I grew up believing that time is money. Not only does this mean that I can spend my time making money, but that if somebody gives their time to help me, they will want money in return. While walking around Joal the first day, we were greeted by Bartholomew, a 20 some Senegalese guy who deliberately got out of his Taxi early to talk to us. It was easy to think that he was out to find himself a job by proposing to be our guide since we have experienced "vendor-attack" every time we go somewhere touristy. While we did pay him to take us on the cart ride to the Baobab, the rest of the weekend showed me the faults of my mindset. We spent all of our meals with Barty and also hung out at the beach with him. He introduced us to his friends, protected us from vendors, and shared his town with us. His aunt even made us lunch one day, from which we all ate off of a big metal platter until everything was gone! I kept worrying that all of this pleasantry would result in him demanding us for a monetary compensation at the end. But I as the weekend passed I started to realize that for him, our friendship, crazy ways, and conversations were our way of paying him back. Money is one way to compensate people, but this weekend taught me that caring about and developing a relationship with somebody is just as valuable if not even more so.
Back in Dakar, we were greeted by traffic, taxi horns, pollution, and classes. I just took my first Wolof exam and am now trying to avoid being melted by the stifling sun and 100 degree heat.
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