Day 95, 96: An unexpected journey

On Friday, I was faced with a decision. I had the opportunity to take a trip with my French teacher to his village in the northern part of the country. The only thing I knew was that we would have to leave early in the morning (around 330am) and that we would be staying one night, and coming back Sunday. While it was tough to commit to such a huge amount of driving and such a little amount of sleep and time to relax, I decided that this was such a unique opportunity that couldn’t be passed up…maybe that’s one of the ways I’ve changed since being here (because I really fought the urge to stay in Yoff and have a nice relaxing Saturday.)

So, the next morning (Saturday) at 330, I woke up and went outside to be picked up by Ousmane (our French teacher) and Allison, who was the only other student who chose to go. It was still dark at that hour (and I was still asleep) and we drove to Ousmane’s house to wait for his friend to come (who would actually be giving us a ride to the village.)

After waiting around until 4, his friend showed up and we left by 430. We drove until the sun came up, and found ourselves in St. Louis by about 7am. Driving in a nearly new Toyota Land Cruiser, we reached St. Louis in about ½ the time it had taken us in our bus. We went to Ousmane’s friend’s house that lived in St. Louis and stopped in for a nice breakfast. His friend, Diallo, was very kind, and made sure that we were all well fed before parting. We left and continued on our journey northwards. Eventually, we passed the road that leads to Nder, and it pained me to drive by without visiting, but it would have been difficult to stop in for such a short amount of time...

We continued on and took a right before reaching Rosso, the town on the border of Senegal. We then traveled East on the main road that runs along the River Senegal, passed through Richard Toll, and finally reached a village in the region of Fouta. The first village we visited was Guede Chantier, the village of Ousmane’s father. This was where Ousmane had grown up, and where most of his family still lived. It was about 11am, and Allison and I were introduced to most of his family, but parted soon after.

We then drove to Ndioum, a rather large town close by. There, we met Ousmane’s maternal grandmother, and basically her entire village. Minutes after pulling up, we attracted quite a crowd, and ended up meeting tons of people, all of whom were extremely nice. The Toucouleur people of the northern part of Senegal are very nice by reputation, and they certainly lived up to that reputation.

After meeting one of Ousmane’s grandmothers, we continued on to another village called Diomandou where we met some friend of Ousmane’s and dropped off a letter from someone in Dakar…

We then crossed to rivers via ferries and arrived at the village of Ousmane’s paternal grandmother. This village was directly adjacent to the River Senegal, across which was the neighboring country of Mauritania.

We received an extremely warm welcome in this village called Lahel. We were invited in to a hut and introduced to Ousmane’s grandmother, who was seated. She told us (through translation) that she was 99 years old. She said that there had been other people in the village that morning, waiting for our arrival, as they thought we were coming in the morning. She then told us stories of what it used to be like there, in her village. She told us that what was once green and full of wildlife was now desert (which we could observe) and that she had once fought off a crocodile that had tried to eat one of her cattle. She also told us the story of when she encountered a lion (which were apparently abundant) while herding her cows…

After eating the best ceebu jen I’ve ever had (yea, it was amazing, I swear) we sat around and talked some more. Many people came by to greet us everyone was extremely kind. Although we had asked them not to, the villagers slaughtered a goat and cooked it for us while we were sitting talking to Ousmane’s grandmother. After eating lots of ceebu jen, I was disinclined to eat a lot, but managed to eat some of the goat, which was actually really good…

We spent most of the middle part of the day there, in the hut, listening to Ousmane’s grandmother’s stories and asking questions. It was truly an honor to be in her presence, and there was just something an aura around her; an aura of respect, wisdom, and fortitude. She was surprisingly sharp and aware for a person of her age, especially one who has lived in (not the most comfortable) conditions.

When it was time to go, she blessed us and sent us on our way. We left at around 4pm and drove back across the two rivers we had crossed on the way over. We visited one last village called Alwar, the birthplace of El Ajama Omar, a famous marabout who had an extremely large influence on West Africa in the 1800’s. We also saw a Sudanese style mosque, which was really interesting. As in most of the villages we visited, we were followed by a crowd of children, which seemed to grow larger as we would walk through the village.

Returning to the first village that we went to, we received a tour from Ousmane. He introduced us to many members of his extended family, along with some of his close friends as well. He showed us the community garden that was once so big that it created a microclimate over the village, bringing rain to a very arid region. Although the garden had been mostly destroyed by a government project in the 1990’s, there was still about 30% remaining. Walking in to this garden was like walking in to a rainforest, or rather, in to Narnia (as Allison put it), or some magical place. There were all sorts of fruits growing including bananas, guavas, mangoes, and dates.

Guede Chantier is a village of about 6,000, and is one that was organized by the French. Most of the buildings are arranged in streets or rows, and the village is shaped in sort of an “H” and is surrounded by rice (and other crops) fields. Ousmane also told us about how in 1960, a group of Chinese people had come and taught the village how to grow rice. The Chinese stayed for 15 years and now, the farmers in the village still use the techniques (and breeds of rice) that the Chinese brought.

By the time we made it back to Ousmane’s compound, we were nearly falling down from exhaustion. Having been awake since 330 that morning, we were ready to pass out. After a quick dinner, I fell asleep immediately.

The next morning, we awoke around 8. We had a nice breakfast, with good bread (like the kind in Medina Kouta) and coffee. We bid farewell to Ousmane’s family, and left for Dakar. On the way back, we drove through Dagana, a small city where the French had built a large fort when they conquered and colonized the area. We stopped in St. Louis briefly, and got back to Dakar around 4pm. We parted ways with Ousmane (until tomorrow when he’ll be giving us our final French exam) and returned home for dinner and some good showers.

While the trip was difficult and exhausting, it was well worth it. Before going on this short trip, we had seen 5 villages. In 36 hours, we doubled that number, and gained experiences that I would have regretted turning up. Plus, I’ll have plenty of time to sleep late in January…