The interview with Samuel Sidibe, Director of the Musee Nationale du Mali, went very well. He was kind enough to provide me with references to the oral history of the griots, or traditional storytellers of West Africa, including back to the times of the great empires of Wagadu (Ghana), Mali, and Songhay.
After the interview at the museum, I wandered around town to accomplish chores like getting a SIM card for my phone to work in Mali.
I walked all the way to the fetish market by the Grand Mosque, where I purchased a white crystal thought to help with stomach and intestinal ailments to give to Travis back in San Francisco. I went to a Marche Artisanal where artists were selling musical instruments, statues, paintings, and clothing. I purchased a small shirt and pant set for my nephew Zachary… I hope it will fit! Finally, I visited the main post office to inquire about sending my printed materials back to San Francisco. This time the price was even crazier — more than US$200! So it looks like I will be lugging the stuff around with me for awhile.
After a shower at the hotel, I went for dinner at Appaloosa. There I met a very intelligent and admirable woman from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Washington, DC. She is conducting a study here in Mali on malaria in infants. I was amazed by her dedication to saving lives and she told me some sad stories about how many children are dying here. She also explained in more detail about malaria works… apparently, the parasite from mosquito bites invades the liver and stays there until it transforms into something that goes into the blood stream. At that point is where the medications like Malarone and others attack the disease, not in the liver itself. That’s why it’s necessary to continue taking the medication for some time after leaving a malaria zone, so that all the disease that passes out of the liver gets clobbered in a blood supply well stocked with the medication. It’s also why it’s so important to make sure to take every done of the medication. Even she, an infectious disease expert, forgot to take her pill for one or two days and ended up with a case of malaria, the symptoms being fatigue and nausea without vomiting, among others. After grossing me out a bit with the malaria discussion, she invited me over to the Restaurant du Fleuve for an ice cream sundae. I had been afraid to eat ice cream here, but she assured me it would be not only safe but really yummy and she was right! The chocolate sauce was especially good.
After checking in the evening before to the Hotel Yamey and eating dinner at the Apaloosa bar and restaurant next door, where the waiters were dressed like cowboys, I slept well. My main meeting wouldn’t happen until November 10.
So, on November 9, I visited the Musee Nationale du Mali in preparation for the meeting with its director on November 10.
The museum is excellent. I first wandered past an outdoor sculpture of a typical Malian bus into an art exhibition where hundreds of children scrambled around the museum hall interacting with some amazing art.
The other main hall of the museum contains its permanent exhibits about Ancient Mali, Ritual Art, and Textiles. I took lots of notes because pictures weren’t permitted, and I bought a few postcards documenting the key artifacts in the museum, such as the Dogon “Thinker” statue with snakes all over his body, the almost East-Indian-style statue of a reclining man, and the ancient textiles with interesting patterns from the people inhabiting the Dogon region before the Dogon themselves arrived.
In the garden on the way out of the museum, I saw a variety of models of famous buildings in Mali, particularly of the mosque at Jenne-Jeno, and the waterfall at the entrance once again.
Notes on National Museuem in Bamako:
A great museum! (in three parts)
ANCIENT MALI–
Tellem — in rock escarpments of Bandiagara, people who lived from 11th to 16th century, Dogon people found them there, textiles are among oldest found in Africa, also leather, wood, and metal artifacts found in sepulchral grottos
Before the Tellem came the “Toloy phase”, 3rd to 2nd century BCE, grotto A with round elevated constructions, architectural elements also appear in Ireli and Bongo villages
Neck rests found in grotto of Sanga, 11th to 14th century CE, made from wood or iron, some with geometrical patterns
Leather boot with geometrical designs, Tellem, Songa
Cache sexe, leather hem with twisted strands, presumably to cover genitals
Belt of leather strands, approximately ten
Bracelets, metal, some thin, some thick, some with twisted pattern
Pottery, “vannerie”, and “Fécipient (Récipient) en calabasse”, Tellem, Sanga, 11th – 15th centuries CE
Grotto P
Round and oval constructions from 11th – 12th centuries CE
Rectangular constructions from 13th – 14th centuries CE for living quarters
Grenier? = granaries(?)
Bankoni, Bamako, statuette, clay, long face, head tilted back, tongue sticking out a little, Szumowski found in 1954 in a pseudo-tumulus
Sirakorola, Koulikoro region, ceramic bottles with spherical containers and cylindrical necks, found in vast necropolis, the necks sometimes chopped off before the ceramics baked, heads on the necks include: cow, ram, cock, bird, lamb, and human
==> Oueyanko, west of Bamako, phalliform object, Szumowski found in 1954 in a pseudo-tumulus (see drawing in journal)
Fakola, Bougouni region, tortoise in clay, and a quadruped in clay
Probably southern Mali: two clay statuettes, region with relatively more rainfall, dense vegetation and forests sites such as Magnambougou, Kouroukorokalé, Fanfannyégéné rock opening
Tongo Maaré Diabel (the dune “au jujubier”) is one of the oldest cities studied in Mali, three kilometers north of Douentza between Bandiagara and “les falaises” (escarpments) of Dyoudé, 5th – 13th century CE, agricultural society, “le mil” = millet(?), rarised cows, sheep, and goats, also had blacksmiths, commercial relations with Berbers to the north — found semiprecious stones “coralines” and “amazonites”, transaharan commerce starting in 10th century when glass appears, many pottery vases discovered there, a horse rider statue in clay from 9th – 11th century
Natamatao site: iron tools, including disk, “poinçon”, “enclumes”, axe, “marteau” associated with “scories”, clay statues of quadrupeds, probably ram and lamb
Waganzana site near Thial, same period as Natamatao, statue fragments
Natamatao is six kilometers from village of Thial (Tenenkou (or Tenemkou?) circle), human figure with horse head, also found skeletons painted in red ocher, so probably funerary site, clay head statue probably from top of a vase, very different style
==> Djenné, probably 13th – 15th century CE, statuette of a man seated with head rested on arms crossed on knees, covered with serpents
Natamatao, Thial:
Vase decorated with serpents (similar to Dejenné but different due to large opening)
Stops to put in tops of vases
Vase with geometric pattern
Djenné Djéno, 13th century, three kilometers from Djenné
==> Stylized clay statue of male figure wearing necklaces, serpent ring on right bicep, two bracelets above right elbow, one on right wrist, two bracelets on left wrist, possibly dagger in sheath on left bicep, headless, wearing “cache sexe”
Bust
Djenné Djéno founded in 3rd century BCE, surrounded by a wall two kilometers in length, population 10,000 – 26,000, long-distance commerce, objects of Roman origin found, copper and flass beads, socles de fer, fusables -> tissage, abandoned by 14th century, probably due to domination of Islam in the region
Statuettes with “boutons” from 13th century
Mopti
Clay mask
Globular vases decorated with serpents, clay
“Pied de lit”, clay, origin Kami
Djenné Djéno
LARGE vase “caréné”, 600-900 CE, clay
LARGE funerary jar, clay, tradition of either putting bones of entire body in jar, pierced the
bottom on purpose to signify funerary function
Gao, Sané necropolis, funerary stela from 12th – 13th century, written in Andalusian/Maghrebian style characters
Tomboutou (Timbuktu)
Vases, clay
Bottles, clay
Hematite “polissoir” to test quality of gold
(Imported?) glass fragments
Alabaster window
Small vase (inkwell?)
Copper (coins?)
Iron knife blade
Variety of beads, including wooden ones
Bed supports
Sites at Kawinza, Mouyassan, and Toubal (near Sumpi)
Rice and millet cultures
Fishery
RITUAL ART–
Dogon statue of primordial couple — origin myth of eight lineages, wood
Dogon statue of Nommo, master of water, life, speech, and fecundity, arms attached to something over head, wood, first being created by Amma
Dogon statue of four first ancestors, wood
Gwandusu, Bamanan, Baninko circle of Dioila, statue of maternity or paternity, wood
Ntomo (Notomokun) masks, Banaman, Ségou region, Ntomo society for children aka Cèbilenkè (Beledugu) and Bilakorojo (Birgo and Baninko), number of horns indicates sex of mask: male (3 or 6), female (4 or 8 ), androgynous (2, 5, 7, or 9), often covered with cowries and red seeds or berries, “la discretion” of the mouth -> control over speech, important in those societies
Bamanan, Diolila region, hyena masks, wood
Do mask, Boo, wood
Cimiero — for dancing (Ciwarakun), Bamanan
Senoufo statue slave, “Tabitière des captifs”, hunched over, carrying bowl with cover that has monkey on top, wood
Sogow or marionette, Ségou villages, Kamelan ton associations organize Sogo Bwo animal dances also theater for educational purposes, festival of masks and marionettes (FESMAMA)
Dogon — toguna pillar, wood, feminine figure accentuating breasts and vagina without facial detail
Peul — gold pendant (dola)
Cimier for dance, Ngosonkun, Bamanam, Koulikoro region, wood
Boo, feminine statue Hanbé, for protection of village, wood, long tall, looks like mohawk on head
Senoufo, feminine figure (debele) associated with male figure, ritual scarification, primordial couple
Dogon, Satimé mask, wood and paint
Dogon, multistory house mask, very tall, painted wood
Dogon, Kanaga mask, arms above head, two hands pointed up above two hands pointed down, painted wood and fiber
Dama mourning ritual
Kono (konokun) mask, Bamanan, wood, horns, blood sacrifice of animals
Senoufo, Janus mask (Kponiougo), wood
TEXTILES–
carbon dating from 10th – 13th centuries CE
Peul migrations introduced textile fabrication around 9th century CE
Tilbi — cotton or silk garment signifying high status, Djenné or Tombouctou (Timbuktu)
Bogolan technique for dying cloth
Hunter shirts, example with mirrors, beads, fabric strands, amulets to protect from nyama, always brown and yellow, never indigo (representing nature, not village)
Protective garment “sigi (or sugi?) doki” with text and geometrical designs and amulets wrapped and sewn on
The Peul griots are also wool fabric artisans, they are called Maabo, plural Maabuube, their wives are traditionally potters. The Maabuube are similar in importance to the blacksmiths of the Manding called Numu, whose wives are also potters, located in “boucle du Niger”, Niger River flood plain, wool provides protection against cold and mosquitoes
Peul arkille fabric, often very long, used for nuptial bed, symbol of marriage
Kaasa — another garment formerly worth more than a sheep
Tellem textiles, Sangha, Bandiagara, ancient people who arrived in Dogon country at the weakening of the Ghana empire in the 11th century (Dogons arrived in 14th century)
Tellem textiles included important symbolism, not just pretty designs, no method of fabrication found with other artifacts, so may be imported (?), tunics from 10th – 12th centuries, lots of indigo color, écharpe = ?, strange red designs (see drawing in journal), striped indigo-white cap cotton, another with vertical triangular stripes to the top center
The flight to Bamako, Mali, went smoothly. In the waiting area, I chatted with a guy from Burkina Faso, a man traveling with his wife from Guinee Bissau, and a French fellow headed for nutrition aid work in Mali. On the plane, I sat next to a wonderful Senegalese doctor who commutes back to Mali to see her family part of her family there a few times a month. My chat with her about my novel led to the fellow sitting next to her offering me a ride to the hotel, rather than paying CFA7000 for a taxi to town.
November 8, 2007, Institut Fondamental de l’Afrique Noire (IFAN) Museum, Dakar, Senegal
Due to an unfortunate incident with a young man who was trying to steal money from me, I spent my last evening in Dakar cooped up inside the hotel. Part of the evening was entirely dark due to a blackout. The hotel chef was kind enough to prepare a vegetarian meal for me and I met an interesting Algerian business guy for a chat at the hotel bar.
My final day in Dakar, I went to the Institut Fondamental de l’Afrique Noire (IFAN) Museum.
The museum had interesting exhibits of the various peoples of West Africa and their masks and other ritual objects. I took a lot of notes.
Afterwards, I tried to mail some heavy documents at the post office. I had to take a taxi to a special post office for mailing packages and they told me it would cost almost US$100 to mail 7 kilos of printed materials. I decided to wait for Mali to see if it would be cheaper. The taxi rides around town and to the airport provide an excellent opportunity to get an idea of the terrain in Dakar.
Notes from IFAN Museum in Dakar:
Women’s initiation, Mande, Sierra Leone, masks showing stages of initiation
Nigerian sanctuary statues from near Port Harcourt, River State
Ekoi, Nigeria, Janus helmet, River State
Initiation of boys, Bassari, Senegal, circumcision at age 13, to become a man and learn mystical, technical, and artistic knowledge, large round masks around face with frame structured
Initiation of boys, Boukout or Bukut, Diola, Senegal, every 20-25 years in different villages, announced 3-4 years in advance, ceremonies, festivals, dances, sacrifices, Kuisen ceremony — maskes with horns called ejumba, in Balingore region other masks called samaï and niagarass
Diola, Senegal, couple statuettes, Bignona
Diola, Senegal, giant carved wood pitchers with handle (shape like beer stein) for palm wine, Ziguinchor regionally
Baga people in Guinée, banda or kumbaduda is long horizontal mask combining royal crocodile, chameleon, antelope, and human imagery with colorful geometrical representations, man metamorphosing into a genie
Baga, tam-tam drum on wood stand
Bidjogo, Guinée, archipel de Bissagos, Ile de Ponta, hippo mask
Ghana, Ashanti, Asipim, ceremonial chair, wood, leather, and copper(?) tacks
Ghana, Ashanti, large ceremonial tambour drums, pegs mid-level stretch animal skin attached by cords over the top, intricate geometrical and symbolic designs on base
Ivory Coast, Sénoufo, maternity statue — baby at breast, statue of woman
Mali, Segon (or Ségou), Bamabara, “Chi-Wara” or “Tyiwara”, worn on top of woven cap with cowries, i.e. top of head, one of six “confrèries” in which Bamabara is initiated, mythical hero related to cultivation of the earth, also stylized antelope carvings
Nimba and D’mba, of the Baga and others, ideal image of feminine in society, also have fecundity figure, both with pendulous breasts
Mali, Sikasso, Manianka statuette, hands on belly holding face
Ivory Coast, Senoufo, creator of world god named Koulotiolo, mother of the village god Katiéléo
Pono (or Poro?) initiation rituals in sacred forests, three cycles of seven years is 21 years, receive ritual names at each level, proofs of endurance, secret language
Poworo, children 7-12 years old, farming and intro to initiation
Kwonro, adolescents, liturgical rites, ceremonial dances, and warrior training
Tyologo, 12 levels depending on knowledge with top level called Kafa around 30 years old
Ivory Coast, Karogo, Senoufo, Masque-Cimier, Nayogo, beautiful cowrie-studded mask with beak and long tail
Mali, Dogon, days of mourning in which women wear cowrie masks covering their faces, other masks too, Mopti, Sikasso regions
Mali, Dogon, Mopti region, Bandiagara circle, pillar “d’abri des hommes”?
Several “magic” figures from Ivory Coast (masks for singers):
Yacouba We Man Glé
Nigeria, Yoruba, Oya, Ibadan region, polychromatic mask, also statue of woman holding “une coupe”, Gélédé society for prosperity of women
Benin, Fon, Abomey province, divining cup, carved wooden bowl on stand in shape of bird, Pierre Verger received it from son of the last great Bokono king, also textiles with allegorical stories, colorful appliqué technique, also iron and copper “autel” for royal ancestors, Asen
Mali, Bambara, special clothing for hunter, triangular geometric design, also Ségou region — cane of culture with carved head on top, also marionette, also long mask of Komo society
November 7, 2007, Institut Fondamental de l’Afrique Noire (IFAN), Dakar, Senegal
After an impressive interview in French with archaeologist and historian Charles Becker on November 6 at his home near the home of the President of Senegal, I next went to interview Hamady Bocoum, Minister of Culture in Senegal and Researcher at the Institut Fondamental de l’Afrique Noire (IFAN), University of Cheikh Anta Diop, that interview also conducted in French. (Mille fois merci to my high school French teachers!)
M. Bocoum told me as much as one could in one hour about the role of the blacksmith (forgeron) in African history. He mentioned Soumaoro Kanté, who was a blacksmith king. Sundiata battled him to start a new dynasty and Kanté lost. He recommended reading La geste du Sonjiata.
Boucom feels that the story of the battle represents a battle over African values. Kante represents African independence, ingenuity, and self-awareness. Sundiata represents transahelianism, Islam. Kanté opposed slavery.
He summarized with three contrasts:
Cultural – traditional religion v. Islam
Economic – blocking river traffic and water rights
Technical – inventors and blacksmiths
Now, he says, Africans are consumers to the detriment of producers.
He talked about the supposed caste system which he feels does not really exist in Africa, at least not anything like what happens with the untouchables in India.
He mention reading about the caste system in Sudan and a book called Mande Blacksmith: Knowledge, Power and Art in West Africa (by Patrick R. McNaughton).
Regarding the existence of a caste system in West Africa, Bocoum mentioned:
Structuralism
Concepts of pure and impure
Triumph of consumers over producers
He said that blacksmiths were the ones who invented the state in this part of Africa.
He referred to his L’Age de Fer au Senegal (which I later copied parts of at the tremendous IFAN library).
Bocoum doesn’t believe there was a taboo against blacksmiths either. He described the concept of the societal norm versus the structure, giving the example of how burping is normal and good for the health but considered impolite in many societies.
There was a sense that the work of a blacksmith is the work of the devil. After 2000 years of the domestication of fire, the blacksmiths were the only ones who knew the secrets of transforming stone into metal, a kind of alchemy, a magic/technology.
He mentioned how the blacksmiths had sacrificial ceremonies to do their work and how people who weren’t blacksmiths couldn’t participate in that work.
Once the work of the blacksmith was no longer secret and became democratized, the blacksmiths no longer had a monopoly and lost their power. That started to occur by the 11th century but didn’t happen completely until the 16th century.
In some societies, it was also taboo to make love to or marry a blacksmith, but it still happened.
Bocoum also mentioned a novel called L’Enfant noir by Camara Laye.
He said there was more of a system of domination than a caste system. The system of domination helped generate a class structure (Marx).
The wives of blacksmiths were usually potters, hairdressers, tattoo artisans (for men and women). Blacksmiths traditionally performed circumcisions.
When the ferry was ready for us, everyone in the waiting room squeezed through two small exits onto the dock. Then, we crossed over to the ferry with two guys grabbing each passenger to help them across the one foot wide step to get on board. Once on board, the two Germans and I sat on the upper deck. I chose a spot in the shade. In port next to us was a giant container and cargo ship, twelve stories tall. The ferry boat is new, launched in 2006 under the name of Beer. The Germans and I joked quite a bit about that… like, how come no free beer on board? 😉
From the ferry, we had excellent views back to the Dakar harbor and Cape Vert (I think it’s called).
Soon, we reached the open sea with magnificent views of Île de Gorée.
We sailed around the tip of the island where the fortress, now a museum, is located to get a great view of the harbor, beach, and seaside.
The island boasts some wonderful old houses.
Once on land, we paid a tourist tax and walked toward the Maison des Esclaves (Slave House), which was closed for siesta time. On the way to the Maison, we saw this monument to the end of slavery with a man and some children having their photo taken alongside the monument.
We also saw a breadfruit tree with breadfruit hanging from its branches.
We entered a cathedral with some black statues, as well as white ones.
On our way up to a peak where the old cannons are gradually rusting away, we saw many arts and crafts stands and paintings painted by local artists.
On the way down from the peak, we saw a local soccer game with some guys in real good shape.
We walked over to the port for lunch. A man tried to get us to eat at his restaurant, but I really wanted to eat at the place recommended by the Lonely Planet guidebook. Eventually we escaped his clutches and made our way over to the Ana Saban restaurant.
After lunch, we went to the Musée Historique de l’IFAN on the island.
I somehow lost the Germans at the museum, so I walked alone back over past the beach to the Maison des Esclaves, now finished with their siesta break. I started by taking pictures of the “Door of No Return,” which was apparently the last place where slaves bound for the Great Passage across the Atlantic Ocean to the Americas set foot on the African continent.
Here’s what it was like to stand just in front of the door out to where the slave ships used to load their human cargo and the sign currently posted by the Door of No Return.
Inside the Maison des Esclaves, an exhibit explained about the history of the slave trade and showed some of the actual fetters used to bind slaves.
In a small museum office with lots of signs and sayings posted on the walls, there is an elder who must have helped to establish the museum. I went in to thank him for what he has done and he replied that to the contrary he must thank me for coming.
After the disturbing and moving museum, it was a real treat to be able to relax on the beach with locals and people visiting from all over the world. I met a sweet Italian fellow (married) who is working in nutrition in Africa. It was so much fun that the Germans and I had to run for the Beer ferry when it was time to go.
To round out the evening, we dashed to Point des Almadies to see the sunset and eat dinner on the seashore.
November 4, 2007, Île de Gorée Ferry Terminal Waiting Room, Dakar, Senegal
Mixed chatter of a friendly crowd waiting to board a ferry from Dakar to Île de Gorée. On the island, we find the Maison des Esclaves (Slave House) where rich white people cavorted in luxury above a basement where slaves languished in cages. There is some debate about how many slaves were actually transported through Gorée—most historians now agree the bulk of the slave trade left for the Great Passage across the Atlantic from slave fortresses further southeast along the African coast.
The temperature is hot and muggy and I’m sweating a lot.
Some people in the waiting room wear colorful clothing, a grey-haired elder gentleman with a sky-blue jalibaya, a woman next to him who may be his wife wearing a brilliant dress, geometrically patterned white linen over a turquoise layer matching the scarf ingeniously folded on her head, along with a diaphonous white scarf around her shoulders, several gold bracelets on her right wrist and a wristwatch on the left.
As each of the locals enter the room, they greet each person they know, and even those they don’t know who are nearby, with what seem somewhat cautious, reticent, or self-conscious handshakes and big heartfelt smiles. Mothers carry children on their laps or pass them to older siblings to care for them.
Besides me, the only foreigners I could see in the waiting room at first are a small group of Italian tourists with a fellow who ma be their Senegalese guide with whom they seem on quite familiar term—perhaps a family member?
Two women on either side of me participate in a typical greeting ritual, chatting back and forth with standard greetings and almost choreographed responses, but most of the discussion is less structured, with less of a sense of societal obligation.
Last evening, I wandered out of the hotel after a long jet-lag nap to find an Internet cafe and to eat dinner. As a white foreigner, it’s difficult to walk the streets of downtown Dakar without young men approaching you to be your guide or for some paid service in one way or another. Since I’m not intrigued by activities that generally focus on how to transfer money from my pockets into theirs, these interactions can at times be annoying, especially because I fell that my naïve friendliness on new encounters turns into a more jaded suspicious attitude with most people who now approach me on the street. As I asked a bank security guard for the location of an Internet cafe, another fellow who he seemed to trust approached me and said he’d lead me there. As I discovered afterwards, he intentionally walked me past the nearest open Internet cafe at Place de l’Indépendence so he could extend his chat with me about the luck he had in purchasing a bottle of beer and the great reggae party he was going to that evening. I kept telling him I had not interest and he kept offering and suggesting until I basically thanked him once last time and walked away.
At the Internet cafe, I couldn’t accomplish much in a hour at CFA300 because the keyboard had a strange layout and the spacebar got stuck every other time I pressed it.
When I finished, I asked the propreitor if I could bring in my own laptop, but he refused without giving me a good reason. In the cafe, one could also make telephone calls. I met two Germans who there to make calls home, a diplomat and his friend. At first I thought they must be a gay couple, but they explained their wives were back home in Berlin. We all went to dinner at a nearby restaurant called Keur N’Doye (N’Doye House), which had excellent food at a reasonable price and took care to prepare vegetarian food for me. The diplomat had traveled a bit through Africa though not really much to places I was going. His friend was born to a missionary father (and presumably mother) in Namibia. They returned to Germany when he turned six and later visited Namibia for a vacation when he was a teenager.
After dinner, we went our separate ways. I wanted to check out Cafe l’Iguane, rumored to have some gay activity. I walked over to it and found a place closed for renovations. Disappointed, I wandered a bit more looking for another interesting place without success, so I bought a bottle of water at one shop and a packet of laundry detergent at another, then headed back to the hotel.
This morning, the hotel receptionist told me I could switch from the larger higher-priced room to a smaller room for the original price I had expected, so I did. Then, I walked from the hotel to the port, waited in the sun to buy a ferry ticket, and entered the waiting room. The Germans from last night are now here.
Je suis arrivé à Dakar! The flights here were long, but mostly smooth. I only had to sing my fear-of-flying song on take-offs, landings, and one period of turbulence. South African Airways has reasonably good vegetarian food and good on-flight entertainment. I watched two movies: Opal Passion, the touching story of an Australian girl with imaginary friends, and another film whose title I’ve forgotten about Nelson Mandela, told through the eyes of his white prison guard as his attitude toward Mandela and the freedom movement evolves over time.
Dakar airport arrival was relatively painless and practically on time at around 5:40am local time (Greenwich mean time). Descending the portable stairs wheeled up to the airplane, we walked to a bus that took us to the main terminal for baggage. In the bus, I chatted in French, the lingua franca around here, with a friendly guy about what I thought were the Dakar airport closures. He exclaimed with surprise: “Dakar airport will also close?” I asked what he meant and he clarified that it was Bamako airport that would be closed for renovations through November 7. So, that solved the mystery. I thanked him for helping me to figure out that it was Bamako airport, not Dakar, that is closed.
In the airport, I purchased the flight from Dakar to Bamako for November 8 at the outrageous price of nearly US$500. That brought my total airfare for this second African research trip up to around US$5000. The Air Senegal ticket price was quoted in the currency called Communauté Financière Africaine (CFA) of which there are two varieties. The variety used in Senegal is also known as XOF I think and is also sometimes named after the Banque Centrale des États de l’Afrique de l’Ouest (BCEAO) which issues the currency for a group of west African countries. Since the airline ticket sales agent told me the equivalent of the fare in US dollars at a rate of CFA450 per dollar, I decided to change money at that rate with the fellow standing outside the closed bank in the airport. He initially had offered me CFA435 per dollar based on the rate sign he pointed at in the closed bank. I’m still not sure if I got a good deal, but at least it was a better deal.
Almost everything here seems somewhat negotiable. Speaking of which, I somewhat foolishly also agreed to avail myself of the taxi service from a fellow who was hanging around the airport, rather than going directly outside to where the taxi queue was. I told him I already knew the rate should be CFA3500 to the hotel. Alcohol on his breath–an excellent advertisement for a taxi service–he discussed and discussed and pointed out every possible way I should pay him and the person who turned out to be the actual taxi driver more, including the tricks of pretending not to know I wanted the hotel at the center of the city rather than one near the airport, stopping at the gas station to get me to pay for gas before arriving at the destination, offering to by my guide for anywhere and everywhere I might want to go, and demanding a commission in addition to the fare from both myself and the hotel receptionist when we finally arrived safely at the hotel. I simply told him three times we had agreed on a price and that was that. The receptionist rolled his eyes as if he’d seen the same theater a thousand times. The guy finally left when no one paid any more attention. After he left, the receptionist told me that all the unofficial taxi guys are crooks and I was lucky to arrive without them robbing me.
Because the room wasn’t ready at the ungodly hour when I arrived, I waited in the pleasant garden café of the establishment. I profited from the time by setting up my backups onto the tiny USB disks I brought along as I had on the last African trip. It’s such a comfort to know that even if the laptop gets stolen (goddess forbid!), I’ll still have the crucial writing and travel data with me. I just have to remember to back stuff every time I change anything. The woman working the cafe asked me if I wanted breakfast. Because of something the receptionist had said earlier, I wasn’t sure if I qualified, but she assured me it would be no problem for CFA2000 (about US$4.50). The hot chocolate was excellent but the croissant was too crusty. I was exhausted. The receptionist from the next shift was there and told me that they didn’t have any more single rooms, but I could have a four-person room for CFA35800 instead of the CFA21800 I had planned to pay. I said that wouldn’t be possible. She said since I’m planning to stay until November 8, she could offer me the four-person room at the double-room rate of CFA25,800, until a single room opens up. I agreed, not wanting to schlep my stuff to another place and deal with another taxi ride.
I went for a walk over to the nearby office of Orange, the cell provider here in Senegal that includes international calling, so I could activate the cell phone I purchased when last in Cairo. Unfortunately, the office had closed at noon, so I won’t have a working phone until Monday morning. Walking back to the hotel, I noticed some activity around the Marché Kermel near the hotel. I browsed some of the local crafts and jewelry to the almost continuous bonjour‘s of the sellers, then went in to the market proper where I saw some good fruit. I purchased a kilo each of local oranges and nearly local bananas at the no doubt outrageous unbargained price of CFA1200, but I passed on the expensive imported apples and oranges, thus avoiding mixing apples and oranges. 😉 The transaction involved a fair amount of discussion with two of the guys working the staff, with a gentleman I expect was the true proprietor waiting behind the stall in the background. We had the usual “where are you from?”, name, and profession, with a little bit of the stuff about the hot Senegalese women thrown in for good measure. Practically every guy I talk with has refered to their womenfolk as “gazelles” and “nana” and who knows what else, along with hand gestures symbolizing which part of my anatomy is supposed to go goddess knows where. I haven’t let on to anyone so far that I’m more interested romantically and sexually in guys than women.
Returning to the hotel, I realized I had indeed forgotten to pack something, just as I had predicted when packing at home. Luckily, the item isn’t a total necessity: it’s the wonderfully simple blue plastic orange squeezer that would come in handy for the oranges I purchased at the market.
Tonight, I plan to check out a restaurant with typical Senegalese food. Tomorrow, I plan to visit Isle de Gorée with its infamous Maison des Esclaves.
I finally have a moment to sit and just write. What a wonderful feeling!
The travel has its own set of anxieties. I’m in a race of physical progress across the continent versus my ability to reserve flights, find accommodation, and obtain visas, all of which is a constantly shifting scenario that regularly confounds me.
The latest incident: I confirmed my intercontinental flight to Dakar multiple times, but apparently the airport may be closing in Dakar, hopefully not until after I land there. Instead of finding out from United or South African Airlines, the transcontinental and intercontinental airlines I chose for these segments, I discovered this problem while on the phone trying to keep a reservation to fly out of Dakar on Air Senegal. Getting on the phone with Air Senegal is an amazing trick. They are open either late at night or early in the morning during the Pacific time we have at my home in San Francisco. When I call out of business hours, the line is simply busy. When I call during business hours, their phone answers with a recording and accompanying ditty in French about the wonders of Air Senegal, not many of which I can pretend to have experienced. About once out of every twenty calls, the Air Senegal operator comes on the line before the phone system arbitrarily hangs up on me leaving a long quiet static followed by a loud and insistent beeping, to which I hang up and try again. When I do get through on the phone, the first minute is a panicked negotiation to ensure that we are actually on the phone and speaking with each other. I’ve lubricated my rusty French through repeated forays into air reservation territory. The surprise at 2am this morning was that the flight I wanted from Dakar to Bamako on November 6th was canceled, well they didn’t exactly say it was canceled, just that the Dakar airport would be closed. How about the 7th? Flight full. Well, actually no, airport still closed. And the 5th? Nope, closed. And the 8th? Yes, we will switch your reservation to October 8. And who knows? O, and by the way, you can’t pay for the reservation over the phone. By credit card? No, you must pay in person at an Air Senegal office. Is there one at the airport in Dakar? Yes. Will it be open when my flight is scheduled to arrive early in the morning? Yes, it’s open 24 hours. All this in French with a good dose of static in the background, plus a distracting echo at least on my end of the line. Perhaps I will still have a reservation when I get to the Air Senegal office at Dakar airport, that is, if the airport is still open so we can fly there. The Air Senegal jingle still rattles around in my head.
My itinerary is tight-packed, so an extra two days in Dakar, while potentially productive and fun, will wreak havoc on the schedule further down the line. I may have to cut back on early Ghana aka Wagadu empire sites in Mauritania for example.
All in all, I tell myself I am doing well. I only broke down once so far to bring in a travel agency: Air Treks, who specialize in multi-destination world travel. And that only when I couldn’t get Air Senegal to issue me a ticket for one set of flights or even to make a reservation for another set of flights. O yes, the only place I want to fly where a single non-stop flight is available is from Dakar to Bamako. All the rest are multiple segments to get from one place to another, even if the crow’s eye distance is shorter than the route from Dakar to Bamako. And of course those multi-segment flights can only combine when airlines have fare rules permitting one to book them that way. And the fares on some of these shorter flights are quite high. Why fly? I simply can’t cover the distance in the amount I have alloted for this travel without resorting to many flights. Even as is, I will be traveling overland a lot, sometimes under difficult conditions probably similar to what I experienced between Ethiopia and Sudan or in the middle of the Sudanese desert.
Now, off to write some historical fiction. Think positive: the next blog entry will come from west african soil!
