On The Dakarois Vibe These Days

Asalaamwaalekum y'all, greetings from a rather warm Dakar, high 80s, little wind, clouds were tantalizingly threatening with rain this morning, but nothing but clear skies and sun all day.  Now it's evening time and blessedly cool, the best time for doing ones laundry (especially since water pressure problems means that the taps don't work until late at night, so we stock up each night in 5 10L jugs.

Celeste and I have been up to a lot at times, trying to deliver presents and spend time with as many old friends as possible and fetching visas for Burkina and Mali (props to the lovely lady at the BF embassy who accepted us even though it was after the noon closure of office on Friday, and turned our visas and passports over in an hour...they weren't cheap, but they are multiple entry and valid for 5 years, so holler if you're looking for a traveling companion to Burkina sometime before 2016!), and at other times it feels like the time runs by so so fast even though we're not up to much.  Here's a few highlights:

1. Siccck painting on tree at UCAD of Cheikh Ibrahim Fall ("Lamp Fall"), the inspiration of the Baye Fall sect of the Mouride Muslim order (see those wiki links and that of Serigne Touba for more info on the off chance that that sentence made absolutely no sense.) The writing in French says "The cult of work."

 

 2. The current sorry state of the "Gare" (train station) downtown. In 2005 when Lily D. and Katie S. and I went to Mali, our trip started with a crazy busy queue for tickets in here (and if I remember correctly, a brief but inexplicable closed interrogation of Katie.)  Now, the Senegalese section of the train is closed for repairs, weeds are growing over the rails, and it seems that a family is squatting in the building. Also, road construction on the back side has transplanted the Malian Market to the streets around the Gare, still apparently going strong despite that lack of trains arriving with good from Mali. just one example of many many changes in Dakar since I last visited.

3. Daara J (now "Daara J Family," since Alhadj Mann has since split with Ndongo D and Faada Freddy (with the dreads), two of the grandfathers of Senegalese hip-hop, live in concert at Centre Culturel Francais. The guys were way cool as usual, but due to some BS rule instigated by CCF, the concert ended exactly at 23h00 -- in mid-song! Before they got to play Bop Sa Bopp! Unbelievable. Still, even that disappointment didn't ruin the fantastic music. I have a few videos too, but given current internet connection, it would take four hours to upload a 1m30 clip.

4. Lastly, these groovy Hal Pulaar guys passed by our balcony...Ajara maaaaa!

5. Tonight, Celeste and I (hopefully Fons and Tico too) are heading downtown again to the self-proclaimed "big party en plein air pour faire danser tout Dakar", the inimitable Koul Graoul dance party at the Oceanarium. Such good luck to be here for the first Saturday of the month to catch this groovy event!  Kaay nu dem fecc waay!  Until next time...

a lil flash photography

going to catch a car rapide

this was when the demonstrations were most tense in the neighborhood. the police tank had just driven by and people were throwing rocks at it. once it had passed they continued to throw rocks at this big, illuminated sign, there was a bit more of destruction like this seen in other parts of the city.

the police tank came back through.

people were hanging out all night, keeping fires going in protest.

these photos are a bit out of order but here is one of luke eating mad right before gettin' his head shaved. this fruit is real sour but tastes good mixed with sugar and a bit of red pepper. kinda like a natural sour patch kids.

baldy, lookin' weird

rims

luke got a bit of footage of some people starting the fires.

a well earned beach visit.

just thought i would put up some photos. there are some of the demonstrations. the BBC has photos of the demonstrations but they make things appear to be much more violent than they actually are. we are all safe here. waiting to see if anything will happen tonight. sending all my love!

y'en a marre

Awoke from a nap this afternoon to a few bangs. Outside people have started protesting the electricity blackouts that have affected the neighborhoods around where Abubakar lives, including Sacre Coeur where Luke used to live and where Abubakar's barber shop is. Cherno, a guy that barbs at Abubakar's shop couldn't work at all today because the electricity was out the whole day. For a month people have been experiencing random blackouts at least once a day. Blackouts are sometimes necessary to account for overload in the electric grid, but it is usually done to a schedule without favoring any particular neighborhoods. Here it is clear that something is not right. I have just collected some info from people around and from what I get in the news, but for more news check out: Xalima News and follow up on this group of rappers that is organizing against the electricity blackouts amongst other corruption experienced under the president Abdoulaye Wade: Y'en a marre. More on this laterz...

bien arrivée!

Made it to Sénégal. Luke and Abubakar were waiting for me as I walked into the warm air outside Leopold Sedar Senghor Airport. We grabbed a taxi and headed back to Abubakar's place. I grabbed some well-earned hours of sleep and was awoken by a light rain in the morning. The cool breeze from the rain was well appreciated after the heat in Lisbon. Eating some mango as I watch Brazilian sitcoms. Things are pretty swell.

scraping the peaks, a bit on the mountains

Nearly off to the Sahel! I have been relaxing quite a bit here in Lisbon, enjoying the flush toilets and waiting for some laundry to finish before I do a minimal amount of exploring. I took a half of my malaria pill hoping it will have less side effects when split up.

Before I get to the Sahel though I would like to write about the mountains in Morocco.

After the desert Tiffany and I were scooped up by Omar, our guide and probably the eigth Omar we had met, and his brother Hamed. They drove us into the Atlas mountains from Ouarzazate. Driving around through Morocco the landscape changes so much. From the desert we had driven through oases, like the Dades Gorge, and then into the mountains that went from dry, shale like rock to lush forests of walnut trees.

The Berber people of the Atlas Mountains maintain their traditional lifestyle in isolation from the rest of Morocco. Most people I met spoke a few words in French, Berber is the first language and second is Arabic. The agricultural system is truly impressive. The fields are terraced along the mountain sides. When we were there wheat was being harvested and then, using mules and donkeys, the soil was turned and corn planted. The land is dotted with fig and walnut trees. The walnut trees serve as a commodity crop for families like Omar's that harvest the walnuts during the month of Ramadan and sell them in Marrakech. The woman do all the harvesting and the men tilled the fields and planted new seeds. I felt like that was quite symbolic of male-female relationships.

We went on an over night trek with Omar and his nephew Hassan. I became pretty good friends with Hassan and was really sad to say goodbyes at the end. A very trusty mule accompanied us on our hike. I have to admite I felt really bad for it, especially when it was carrying all out luggage and I was sitting on it, haha. But, then I saw some other mules carrying luggage for about five people or so and I was entirely impressed at the stamina of these little creatures and their knobbly legs.

There are some photos of here of a town we visited called Magdez. This town is known for having grain or hay attics within the buildings and they are all about 300 or 400 years old. The construction materials are nothing more than clay, stones, and hay I think, but they have lasted an incredible amount of time. We shared tea with the chief of the town and walked part of the way back with school children going to their home village.

A group of girls kept on running ahead of us, staring back at us, and laughing. I picked some flowers to try and give to them but they kept on refusing. Finally they hung around when Tiffany started clowning aruond and making them laugh a bit more. I think they were still afraid of me because they really did not want any flowers. Maybe they were confused about my identity, afterall Omar had asked me why I cut my hair because  it made me look like a boy. haha. Anyway, once we made it to their village they were very friendly with us and they finally accepted my flowers, but at that point I didn't have enough for all of them. oops. As we walked out of their village they kept on shouting goodbyes in little bird-like voices.

Tiffany and I found that most children and most women did not want their photo taken. I asked Hassan about this after we left these girls. He explained that at some point a few years ago a group of tourists had come to one of the villages in the valley and took photos of girls and women, and then put them on the internet. Through our language barrier I could not understand whether the photos were a sexual exhibition of the women or not. Either way the women from this one town in particular are known for their beauty and here marked the beginning of their expocure to the world through the internet without any form of consent. This was especially hurtful because, according to Hassan, men were coming from other parts of Morocco to see these women. It sounded like the women had become commodified because of their beauty. The exposition of these women on the internet, I imagine, was also detrimental to the security of their village and their traditional lifestyle that seems to depend a lot on their isolation.

With this in mind I only took photos of willing subjects and will be sending copies back for Hassan to give to them. I am not going to put up any photos here that I feel might be offensive or an unwanted exhibition.

jumping around a bit, been dodging quite a few vendors

Writing to y'all here from the windy ocean side of Essaouira. Tiffany and I met up with my friends from Belgium, Daphne and Chloe, in Marrakech, and after a day or so of some intense city life have retreated to the calm by the sea. Even the hostel we are staying is playing this chill French lounge music that I expect Ken would really enjoy. 


Since I have not written in quite a bit I would like to catch up on a few things. 


We left Fes on a night bus that brought us to the outskirts of the Sahara Desert in the early morning hours. There we met a guide to take us on a cliche, but well worth it, overnight camel trek. We spent the day waiting for the heat to die down in a beautiful Kasbah owned by his family, I think- family seems to be a fairly all inclusive term. Leaving the grit of the city, we felt well posh in the calm heat of the day. 

Around 5 we headed into the desert. In this part of Morocco, from what I understand there are only dromedaires, one humped camels. We climbed atop our trusty transport and headed into the expanse of sand, full of orange waves that seem to swallow any grounded concept of where you are. 


Hopefully these photos will give you a glimpse of it. The beauty is contrasted by the visibility of the Algerian border. Which is a very contentious space as I have learned. I have only got bits and pieces on the politics of the area and need to read up on it. But, so far I have gathered that the area is somewhat autonomous as the desert is expansive and difficult to navigate without an innate or well learned knowledge of it. In addition, because the desert is part of Morocco, Algeria has been cut off from direct access to the Atlantic Ocean. I need to learn more about this all, please forgive any misconceptions.

After the desert Tiffany and I had our guide drive us through several gorges into Ouarzazate. The gorges were beautiful, something like the Grand Canyon of Morocco. The sides of the gorge walls are covered with these rock formations better known as monkey fingers, as they resemble very much our primate siblings´fingers. 


Alrighty must head off the computer now, sorry about the inverted photos. more later!
big love

On the People that I Don't Get to See Again

The anticipation of returning to friends and places that I haven't seen in three and a half years is ballooning fast for me, but the more I think about it, the more I think about my friend Moussa, a true friend, the likes of which are as rare in Dakar as anywhere else in the world. He died of malaria this past October. 

I had some footage from hanging out with him in 2007 when Joe Fresh and I traveled to Senegal together. In retrospect it's of course precious few clips of him, but for those that knew him we're lucky for the glimpses it gives us: hanging with friends, spoiling his niece Maam Daba, standing up for Mermoz when the developers came to build over a public space (Joe tells me it's been razed since), and being on the Ile de Madeleine off the coast of Dakar, one of his favorite places to be, by his own admission.

There's a lot more to say about him but not right here. I am posting the video below since many of you reading will have either known him or heard me talk about him.