Teranga

I am writing this post from Dakar’s only fresh fruit and veggie juice bar. Yes, I did manage to track down a place where I could use the internet while sipping on a carrot, orange & ginger immunity booster smoothie…but, we all have our vices!

It is moments like these that leave me feeling truly at home in Dakar, and also fairly surprised at how easy this transition has been. When choosing to study abroad in a West African country, one of my biggest hesitations was that it would be too different for me to fall into a natural routine while exploring my new home. I know that if I studied in a western European country I would quickly be able to figure out public transportation, find my comfort foods, and easily stay connected with loved ones back home. I also would physically blend in and probably not suffer from too significant of a language gap because of how ubiquitous English has become. However, there was something else calling me to come to Senegal. This longing went deeper than the other pull to roam fashionable European streets and sip coffee at a corner café. I am so lucky that the more confusing, difficult to articulate gut feeling won and led me to Dakar.

Walking home from class earlier this week, I said to a friend (who wholeheartedly agreed!) that my time in Senegal is feeding my soul. I thrive off the color and complexity of the city, and feel immersed in the culture because of the Senegalese emphasis on hospitality known as teranga. Each day is deliciously new and scary. It’s safe to say that I have already begun to picture a future, longer stay in this city when I’m a little older. After I noted how Senegal was serving a deeper purpose for me, my friend added that Dakar had “stolen her heart.” So, how is it that two American girls from the East Coast have managed to find their niche in this bustling African capital?

For this one I have to give credit to the Senegalese people who welcomed us with open arms. (Okay, sometimes those arms are a little too open and friendly but I have pretty much perfected my flirtation rejection skills!) The best way to illustrate this is my journey to get to this very juice bar. In my Lac Rose post you can see my recount of my first foray into Senegalese public transportation, when we used the TaTa buses. Today, however, I was feeling a little more adventurous.

On Friday afternoons I finish class early so I always have the afternoons to do a little exploration. After dropping off some postcards I was feeling particularly Dakarese so I decided to hop on a car rapide. A car rapide is neither a car nor is it “rapide,” but it is one of the coolest things to see clunking down a busy Dakar street. Looking like something straight out of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test it is a form of shared transport (“transport en commun” is written on the side) that goes up and down key streets in the city. You only pay 50 francs (a little under 10 cents) to hop on and you just bang the roof when you’re ready to get off. Luckily I was going all the way into the downtown area of Dakar known as the Plateau so I didn’t have to do any rough banging, just get off when everyone else did. I stood on a corner where I knew it was supposed to stop, and after about three drove by without coming to a full stop I realized I sort of had to wave my arm and grab onto the back as it slowed.

When car rapide #4 showed up, I stuck out my hand and grabbed onto the metal ladder on the back while stepping on the bumper. I almost lost my grip due to my backpack, but the teenage boy hanging off the back who is in charge of collecting payment and shouting out the stops along the route managed to grab me just in time. Once I squished on, I pushed through and wedged myself between people who looked like seasoned travelers. Every inch of space inside was being used and to make your way forward you just lifted up a middle piece of the benches and walked through.

After a couple minutes I realized someone was tapping me on the shoulder. He kept saying something in Wolof and I eventually realized the word “fay” which means “pay.” In all the ruckus getting on I never even gave my payment. I hesitated for a second as I searched my brain for the “how much” Wolof expression and the other passengers around me took my pause as me realizing that I didn’t have any money on me. A couple reached into their purses and offered me the necessary change, but finding my Wolof voice I reassured them I had the money and they passed it back to the collector.

We tumbled and bounced through the markets and business districts of the city and as we neared the final stop, the woman next to me told me the end was approaching. I smiled and nodded with the confidence of someone who was a car rapide veteran but I was secretly grateful for her friendliness. Once in the downtown area I managed to locate Feel Juice among the quieter back roads of the business district…and here I am now!

This whole adventure could have gone very differently. The car rapide might never have stopped at the corner for a somewhat out-of-place, backpack-laden girl with a hesitant and confused expression. I could have quite literally fallen off the back of the bus. I also could have been yelled at for my lack of money by irritated daily commuters. Instead, everyone tried to help. Everyone was patient as I stumbled through my handful of Wolof expressions and they even went out of their way to make sure I didn’t get lost. This is not out of the ordinary, but rather it is the Senegalese custom of extraordinary hospitality.

Because I am greeted with this helpful attitude everywhere I go, I have been able to truly explore the city and feel at home. Sure, I probably looked a little scared for the first couple minutes of my car rapide ride, but I also started to relax and felt pretty darn at home amongst all my anonymous Senegalese friends. I allowed myself to feel like I belong on a brightly colored form of communal transportation because everyone else’s friendliness didn’t leave me feeling like an outsider. So while Senegal might have stolen my heart, it is the people for whom I will always be grateful.