Rallying to Dakar
‘Its a problem’, the police officer was referring to Mikaela leaving her indicator flashing after she had pulled over and stopped, at his request, for a routine passport check. ‘Its no problem’, her succinct reply. ‘Its a problem’ (policeman repeats); ‘No, its no problem’ (Mik).. ‘Okay, its no problem, bon voyage.’ If only all traffic infringements could be dealt with this way!
Like everything else in Senegal this chap was essentially friendly and positive but let himself down (with this poor attempt at securing a bribe).
We spent our first two nights in St Louis at a fantastic campsite on a thin peninsula in between the Senegal River mouth and the Atlantic. The long white sandy beach was ideal for the kicking off some Knysna half marathon training, although it was sad that if we’d run barefoot our feet would have been shredded by all the litter and broken glass. Similarly we enjoyed walking along the lagoon, watching locals fish and work in cultivated vegetable patches, but the shoreline was strewn with plastic, glass and a dead goat! Even a school of fish in the lagoon beached themselves (and rebeached themselves when we threw them back), opting for mass suicide ahead of living on amidst the mess.
St Louis is one of Senegals premier tourist towns and the peninsula we stayed on is the towns main tourist attraction. The peninsula is only about 5km long and 500m wide. If there is a 2.5km² area anywhere in the country that warrants the cost of a litter cleaning crew, this is it. But that need is overlooked in favour of ensuring that the driver of any car without a severely cracked windscreen is carrying the correct documentation, a triangle and fire extinguisher!
Despite the annoyance of seeing the wasted potential we enjoyed our stay in St Louis. We visited the nearby nature reserves and eco-resorts, liked the locals and their dirty kids who seemed happier than most despite the fact that their playground was the dusty streets of a fish market and had a delicious steak at La Residence.
From St Louis we drove south to Dakar. The countryside looks increasingly like the South African lowveld. My attempt to donate a football to a group of lads in a youth club alongside a dusty football pitch in a small town ended ambiguously when one of the chaps grabbed the ball from his mates and sprinted off. I like to think they later hunted him down, gave him a sound beating and then enjoyed a game of footie.
Dakar is a city that grows on you.
The only camping option seemed to be the Oceana centre which was not a campsite but a dive centre that ‘Tale of Two Travellers’ had used and been allowed to stay at. It looked like any other slightly rundown clubhouse, but its location in a wealthy central area below the presidents house, on the sea was fantastic. It was populated by a variety of characters, the local fishermen being the only group with any clear sense of purpose.
Our 3 days in Dakar were spent doing some admin, some paddling in the bay, a tourist outing to a nearby former-slaving island and world war 2 military base, but mostly enjoying the local beer, ‘Flag’, and coastal restaurants.
That was all about a week ago. We are now (8 March) back in Senegal after a 4 day excursion to The Gambia. I am writing this from a boma overlooking the magnificent, pristine Gambia River. Unfortunately productivity amongst us scribes is now a lot closer to that of the hippo that is 500m away from me than it is to all you hardworking city folk so you may have to wait a few days for details.
Now, where’s that beer?
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