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1st
Don’t know about you, but June sure seemed to fly by.
Our household goods finally arrived a week ago last Friday. . . well, most of them, anyway. Missing a few things, like fishing poles and golf clubs. I’ve really been waiting for my clubs. Sure enough, Anzie’s clubs made it. We were sure that they were destined for storage. She rarely uses them. Anyway, it’s like seeing old friends again. We finally have rugs and wall hangings, so the house is beginning to look like a home.
We had a houseguest for a few days: Barbara Staller – Peace Corps Country Director for Cape Verde. When her work was done, Barbara showed me around the environs of Dakar:
· Village Artisanal: many, many little booths and boutiques selling handicrafts – baskets, clothing, leather goods, jewelry. Good quality, but the vendors are very aggressive.
· Village des Arts: long barracks divided into small art studios. Fine arts – mostly paintings and sculpture.
·
Home for Abused Women: Houses
up to 12 women. In order to cover
costs, they produce batik cloth and products thereof – dresses, tablecloths,
napkins, quilted pillow covers, etc. Nice stuff, reasonably priced.
Went to a Wine and Cheese gathering at the home of Nancy Manahan, Embassy doctor. Everyone brought either wine or an appetizer. Probably 70 present. Met some more interesting people.
We then moved over to the French Cultural Center for a concert. The music was “a la Youssef N’Dor” – Islamic Griot mixed with rock and reggae. Several band members wandered on and off the stage. One of the most interesting was a paraplegic. His withered legs were curled up under his body like those of a cricket. He got around very well using his hands and arms. He sang and he “danced”, swinging and turning using his fists as pivots and support. As a matter of fact he was quite an agile, rhythmic dancer.
Speaking of seeing old friends, guess who showed up? Sylvia Vriesendorp – all the way from Manchester by the Sea! It was the day after Anzie returned from Niger when the phone rang. It was Sylvia, and she was in Dakar. Turns out she was here to represent her company, MSH, at the funeral of an old friend and colleague, Pape Syr, who succumbed to cancer. Sylvia was planning to visit him in August in hopes of writing a book about him. He was a leader in reproductive rights / health and well known throughout Africa.
Sylvia stayed at our house. We had a great time discussing placement of paintings and tapestries, drinking wine. Lillian Baer joined us for dinner on Sylvia’s second night. Lillian is another Peace Corps Volunteer from the 60’s who never left. She’s a co-founder of a consulting firm, ACI Baobab Center. Sylvia and Lillian have known each other for some years. It was a short evening. We had to pack and get up at 5:00 the next morning for our flight to Cape Verde.
The next day we arrived at the airport at 6 AM for our 8:00 flight, only to find out that it was cancelled and rescheduled for 4:00AM the next morning. African travel is like this!
It was then we met Kelly.
We spied this tall girl with flaxen hair carrying a backpack and a duffel bag and sporting a Peace Corps tee shirt. She looked a bit dazed. Anne confirmed that she was with PC and was returning to Cape Verde after a sudden family visit in Seattle. She went home for the funeral of her sister, who had died of a seizure at age 29. Kelly still couldn’t talk about it without tearing up. Kelly returned home with us. We had breakfast. Kelly then went to sleep for about 12 hours. Turns out that she only had two more weeks in Peace Corps, but both she and Peace Corps felt it important for her to return to her site for closure.
Anne and I put our extra day to good use. We opened every box. We decorated the downstairs. Because our walls are all cement, I made good use of my drill and mason bits.
We drove downtown to Peace Corps and discovered that our car parts had just arrived from the U.S. As previously arranged I contacted Jean Baptiste, PC head mechanic, who agreed to install the parts over the weekend while we were away in Cape Verde.
Also our Petco order arrived. I still can’t believe that we’re importing kitty litter – aka “dirt” – from the U.S. Amadou tried to substitute local sand once. The cats’ response was swift. One or both of them peed on a mattress. We’ve made several attempts to clean it, but it still reeks.
So, we took a cab back to the house carrying our cat litter and food. We also got to spend another pleasant evening with Sylvia, who left for the airport at 9PM. Our cancelled flight was just meant to be. We got to know Kelly. We made arrangements to have our car fixed. We made good progress on unpacking our house. We got to see more of Sylvia. Hopefully she’s returning in August. Can Axel be far behind?
A la prochaine,
5th
Woke up last Friday, June 27 at 2:00AM to catch a 4:00 flight to Cape Verde. Kelly, Anne and I took a pre-arranged cab ride for the 500 meters to the airport. Our proximity is a good thing. Turns out that Anne had to return home to pick up her flipcharts. We ran into Josh and Adam, both retired PC Volunteers who work at the Baobab Center. They were going to Cape Verde on vacation. Kelly began to show renewed energy as she presented them with a travelogue of things to do and places to go.
We took off
at 5:00 and landed 1 hour and 40 minutes later in Praia, the capital of Cape
Verde on the island of Santiago – 400 miles from Dakar.
Cape Verde consists of 8-9 islands.
Like the Hawaiian Islands, they’re the result of volcanic action.
Unlike Hawaii, they’re not very green.
They average less than 4” of rain per year.
The rainy season lasts from late August to early October.
We did come upon the occasional green valley where are grown bananas,
mangos, sugar cane and maize.
Santiago is
very mountainous. Back in the days
of the slave ships, it was a stopping-off place for water.
Many slaves escaped over the years and hid in the mountains.
They became known as rebellados, because they refused to recognize the local Portuguese
government. Rebellados still live
in the high mountains separate from the rest of the population for these 400
years. Many of the former slaves
and the local Portuguese intermarried, giving rise to an array of features that
is known as Cape Verdean. Interestingly
enough, there are more Cape Verdeans living in the U.S. – mainly along the New
England coastline in towns like Fall River and New Bedford – than currently
live in Cape Verde. Many of these
expats return to Cape Verde upon retirement.
Barbara Stahler, Peace Corps Country Director, reciprocated our hospitality manifold. The evening of our arrival Barbara, husband Mike and son Galen drove us to Cidade Velha, the former capital and busy slave port. At sunset we visited an old fort that overlooks the city. The fort is well preserved considering that it was built in the early 1500's. In 1585 Sir Francis Drake plundered the town. The fort was never fired upon, nor could it save the city below. We dined on octopus at an outdoor restaurant in Cidade V., which overlooked a rocky cove and crashing surf.
On Saturday we picnicked on a secluded, white sand beach, Sao Francisco, with the Stahlers and other PC and Embassy staffers. It’s a small group here, so they do a lot together.
On Monday,
Mike took me golfing. If Mike
hadn’t told me we were on the course, I never would have known.
It was total desert – no green anywhere.
Mike was angry because he forgot to bring his piece of Astroturf that he
uses for fairway shots. The tee
consisted of a raised 5 x 5 ft cement square filled with an oil-sand mixture.
The fairway was the area without trees. The
green was a 20 ft. diameter circle of oil-sand mixture.
For fairway shots we just built a little anthill of sand with our feet to
use as a tee. Due to time
constraints, we played only six holes. Suffice
to say, we had the course to ourselves.
That evening
we were invited over to the U.S. Ambassador’s residence for Mike’s
going-away party. Mike has worked
at the embassy for the past year as Chief Liaison Officer.
He’s returning to Seattle on a career move.
Ambassador Johnson and his wife were charming hosts.
We drank wine made from grapes that are grown on the steep sides on the
volcano on the island of Fogo, which is located about 15 miles away.
Mrs. Johnson is a marvelous cook. She
made enough delicious appetizers that we didn’t need dinner.
Sunday we
hired a taxi to tour the island. We
took to mountain route to the other end of the island, to the village of
Tarrafal – about a two hour trip non-stop.
Of course we stopped. Sylvo,
our driver, took us to a grog "factory".
Grog is made from sugercane. It
tastes more like White Lightnin’ than rum.
The factory, located in a deep valley accessible only by a donkey path,
looks medieval. It consists of a
bunch of thatched roof huts, a wood-fired still and a series of concrete water
vats through which they filter the grog. Everyone
seemed happy. Must be those coffee
breaks.
Sylvo drove
us over the high mountains. We
broke through a bank of low-flying clouds.
We entered a tiny village that was perched upon the steep mountainside. We stopped on the narrow two-lane road that divided the
village at one point where either side dropped off into precipitous nothingness
that was hidden by clouds. It was
sort of scary!
Tarrafal is
a quaint little seaside town. We
parked at the public beach. It was
white sand, a good swimming beach and, since it was Sunday, crowded. At the end of this beach was a large rock outcropping with a
beachcomber-type bar perched precariously on top. On the edge of the beach was a complex of small bungalows
nestled in a grove of palm trees. On the other side of the outcropping we
discovered another sandy beach which wasn't as crowded.
Reason: the water was filled with rocks -- not great for swimming, good
for snorkeling. So, snorkel we did.
We spotted several of the same types of colorful fish that we had seen
last summer in Hawaii. Imagine them
swimming all that way!
We ate lunch at a nice little restaurant that overlooked the beach. Octopus is very popular in Cape Verde. We also ate a dish they call "shari" (sp.?). Made from maize, it tasted like a cross between cous-cous and rice.
Remember
Mateus, the Portuguese rosé wine? Haven't
tasted it in years. Used to be
popular during our college days. We
ordered a bottle. It tasted
wonderful: sweet, but not too … cool as if it were chilled in a mountain
stream … perfect for lunch on a hot summer day.
It was like rediscovering a childhood chum and realizing that , despite
your matured taste, you still enjoyed him.
We returned
to Praia via the coast, beautiful vistas at every turn.
We were forced to slow down to a crawl as we passed through every
village. It being Sunday, each town
put on a fiesta: people, music, street vendors, animals.
The next day I discovered a terrific swimming pool at the Hotel Tropico, an easy 10 minute walk from our hotel. Our hotel, the Mirasol, was priced right at $65./night, but it really didn't hold a candle to the Tropico. At $85. A night the Tropico was more modern, cleaner and required a lot less climbing. We had to climb up four flights of stairs to our room at the Mirasol. Unfortunately, the Tropico was sold out for a portion of our stay. Anyway, I swam laps every morning for the last four days of our stay.
I have to
tell you about the two "specialists" whom I met in Cape Verde. One was a specialist in ants; the other specialized in worms.
I met Jim at
our beach picnic. I saw this tall,
lanky, bespectacled, sandy bearded thirty-something turning over rocks and
collecting ants. He was using an
"aspirator", a simple device consisting of a short length of flexible
medical tubing with a small glass jar attached in the middle.
He would put one end of the tube over the target ant and his mouth at the
other end, and "suck" the ant through the tube and into the bottle.
He's a professor at the College of the Atlantic in Florida.
He was hired by National Geographic to do research on the ants of the
Cape Verde Islands. The theory is
that, since the CV islands constitute such a discrete land mass, the ants just
may be like none found anywhere else.
Since Jim had just arrived, he hadn't experienced any "Eureka!"'s yet. However, he had found one unique species just outside the local brewery. Jim is one of those characters whose enthusiasm for his subject is contagious. He spoke of various interesting ant species he has come across.
The "honey ant": members of a colony serve as storage bins. They store food for the other ants in their posteriors which, come to resemble small grapes. They hang suspended from the ceiling of the colony and feed their fellow ants by mouth-to-mouth. To some animals and humans honey ants are candy.
The
"predator" ant: this
yellow ant eats anything -- wood, clothing, animals, people even - anything
organic. This species tends to break out in certain areas like a plague of
locusts. It devours anything
organic: wood, cloth, animals and humans. It's
the size of our normal black ant, only yellowish.
It is now a nuisance in two areas: Cape Verde
and Key West, Florida.
Does anyone
remember that great sci-fi flick, "Them"?
It's about these ants that have grown to the size of Volkswagens due to
nuclear radioactivity. The giant
ants have taken over the L.A sewer system.
I asked Jim about the film. He
knew quite a bit about it. Two
years ago some Hollywood types thought about making a sequel.
They invited Jim to lunch a couple of times to discuss technical ant
issues.
Hans the
worm man: We met him during lunch at the Hotel Tropico.
He was dining with his old friend, the former Cape Verdean ambassador to
Senegal. Hans, an Austrian who now
lives in Venice found out we came from the Boston area. A worm expert, he
imports bloodworms from Maine for saltwater fisherman throughout Europe and
Africa. His major income is derived
from the sale of worms imported from China, and he has made a fortune. He asked me to be on the lookout for a source of worms in
Senegal. "We could make some
good money together", says he. Hey,
you never know.
A la prochaine,
9th
Travels with Anzie - Extra
For the past few weeks the town of Dakar has been preparing for the visit of President Bush. It all culminated in his five-hour visit yesterday, July 8. Anne couldn't go into work because the town was virtually sealed off. Thought you might be interested in the preparations that took place for W's visit.
Two weeks ago we thought it strange when we discovered that the Club Atlantique (formerly the American Club) cancelled the annual 4th of July party. The excuse was that too many potential attendees would be too busy preparing for the Bush visit to attend. This turned out to be fact. 750 Americans from DC and other parts of the world arrived as much as two weeks prior to assist in preparations. Our President doesn't travel light.
President Bush's five-hour stopover include a one-hour meeting with Senegal's President Wade, a 55 minute meeting with heads of state of several other West African countries, and a visit to Gorée Island.
A necessary stop on every US President's visit to Dakar is Goree Island. Located about a mile from Dakar Port, Goree was an important holding point for slaves who were destined for America and other countries. The Slave House with its famous "Door of No Return" has been preserved. The island is also home to numerous artists and artisans. Goree is really worth a visit. Preparations for Bush's visit included the construction of a world class communications center. It will be dismantled right after the visit.
Also, any disreputable citizens or anyone who appeared disreputable were gathered up and made guests of the city in the Iron Bar Motel for a period of three days. Of course, this included anyone sporting dreadlocks. On Goree more than a few artists sport dreadlocks.
Weekends are when the people of Goree make money. Ferries carry tourists to the island every 1/2 hour. The artists, craftspeople, restaurants and boutiques depend on the weekend trade for their livelihood. Not last weekend. The entire island was closed to visitors in preparation for Bush's one hour visit yesterday.
For all of yesterday morning all traffic was sealed off and businesses closed along any route that President Bush's motorcade would take. Yesterday afternoon we stopped to pick up a rug at the cleaners. The man was irate that he had lost a half day's business because of Bush's visit.
We live 300 yards down the road from the airport. We were told that US citizens with proper ID would be allowed to wave goodbye to George at 12:30PM. We entered the airport at about noon. The air conditioning was a welcome change from the outdoor heat. We went through a metal detector that was manned, not by Senegalese, but by five US security guys in suits. On the way out I noted that these same gentlemen were packing up the metal detector system. Don't know why they couldn't use a local system. Our President doesn't travel light.
Beyond Security were over 100 Embassy officials and Host Country Nationals (aka Senegalese who worked for the Embassy or USAID), including children. We met a few friends, including Ed and Johnny Mae Jones, our next door neighbors. Ed works for the FAA. On the airstrip were parked Air Force One and Two, another white plane of similar design with no markings, plus two huge grey cargo planes. We also heard that two C-14 aircraft were parked in Cape Verde, as well as two more parked in Banjul, Gambia for emergency support. Our President doesn't travel light.
At 12:20 an Embassy official instructed the assemblage to move to a cordoned-off area on the runway near Air Force One. Anne and I reluctantly left the air conditioned comfort of the waiting room for 95 degree broiling sun and humidity. Fortunately, Anne and I had dressed for the weather. We pitied the Security staff and audience members in their suits and ties. I remembered why I hadn't attended any US presidential appearances since Gerald Ford.
At 12:55 President Bush arrived in an autocade of at least a dozen limos, vans and trucks. I noted that all the vehicles had DC license plates, except for the Ambassador's car. They were all American-made - Cadillacs, Dodges, Fords.
Our President doesn't travel light.
The President, accompanied by his wife, Laura, Colin Powell, Ambassador William Roth and his wife, Carol, approached the portable podium. George made some extemporaneous (you know how good he is at extemporaneous) remarks about his visit. He spoke of the history of Goree Island, that the slaves that passed through there and landed on our shores made America what it is today. He stated how Goree reminded him about Freedom and how precious it is to us all. It wasn't hard to decipher to which portion of the US voting population he was appealing.
George and Laura then did a quick handshake drill with the front of the crowd. Laura seemed a bit travel-weary. We stood as they entered the plane. We stood and watched as the plane took off for the next leg of his whirlwind tour, Johannesburg, South Africa. Finally we were allowed to leave.
On the way out, I met a US staffer who was packing up the podium. As one of the 750 he was one of three people responsible for the podium sound equipment. Our President doesn't travel light.
19th
I've discovered something wonderful here. It's called "Teranga". It's a Wolof word that means "hospitality", "welcome". It's a deeply ingrained part of the Senegalese mentality. This is a story about " Teranga".
Meet Mamadou Kane (pronounced kahn-ā). He's a waiter at one of Dakar's finer restaurants, Lagon I.
Back in early May we decided to celebrate Anne's confirmation as a permanent hire with Peace Corps with a romantic lunch. Lagon I sits over the ocean on the Dakar waterfront. We chose a table located on the dock that extends about 100 feet out into the water. Mamadou welcomed us to his table, took our drink order and explained the specials. We engaged in a running conversation with this handsome, warm and amiable Senegalese over the course of our meal. We discussed the fact that we were new arrivals to Dakar and how much we were enthralled by everything so far.
Anne selected grilled gambas. I chose thieboudienne, pronounced cheb-ou-jen,a Senegalese favorite which consists of fish, rice, onions and other vegetables. It was my first sampling of the dish, and I liked it very much.
Mamadou asked if we were enjoying our meal. After my enthusiastic reply in my halting French, Mamadou countered with, " My wife makes a much better thieboudienne than this". He then said that he would invite us to his house sometime in the near future in order to prove his statement. Confident that this was merely a good ploy to augment the normal 5% tip, we gave him our number, tipped him an outrageous 10%, and left well satisfied with our dining experience.
One month later I receive a phone call. The conversation went something like this (in French):
Me: Hello
Mamadou: How's it going?
Me: Fine. Who's this?
Mamadou: Mamadou
Me: Mamadou?
Mamadou: From Lagon I.
Me: Oh … Mamadou … It's good to hear from you.
I later learned that no Senegalese identifies themselves immediately when they call you. They must go through a prolonged ritual which includes asking after your health, that of your wife, the rest of your family, extending on to your goat, your chickens, etc. Well … maybe I do exaggerate a trifle, but not much.
Suffice to say that Mamadou called to invite us over for dinner. Unfortunately our travel scheduled delayed the dinner for over a month. Mamadou was persistent, and we finally made a firm date. I asked for directions, but Mamadou insisted in coming to our house to guide to his home, which is over on the other side of Dakar.
During our conversation I discovered that Mamadou and his wife, Satou, have two boys ages 3 and 9 months. Clever Anzie had prepared for just such an occasion before leaving the U.S. She laid away a supply of various children's toys. For the boys we wrapped up stuffed animals.
Mamadou arrived by taxi along with his three-year-old son. Thank Allah that he recognized us, because I never would have recognized him after our single meeting. But then again we were the only toubabs within 1/2 mile! We all drove over to his house in our car. In order to get to his place we were forced to leave the paved road and take a series of turns down narrow sand alleys.
We entered the house - modest but well kept - and we remembered to remove our shoes before entering the carpeted parlor. Mamadou introduced us to his lovely wife, Satou, who was dressed in a gorgeous peach-colored satin damask bou-bou complete with matching turban. These Senegalese women really know how to dress!
We sit down to traditional refreshments which include bissap, made from red sorrel leaves, gingembre, made from ground ginger root, and bouye, made from the fruit of the baobab tree. We expressed our surprise at just how much we liked the gingembre and the bouye.
The two boys joined us. Like all boys their age they were very shy, but polite. When they opened their gifts the looks on their faces made it all worthwhile.
Then, as it happened in Mauritania, we are introduced to members of the extended family - Mamadou's mother, sisters, a brother, an aunt, cousins, nieces and nephews were all visiting from their village. West African families are like that. It's a kind of collective mentality. Many family members live under the same roof. With 48% unemployment only a few of the city-dwelling family members earn a steady income. This income is shared among the family members, not according to ability or effort, but according to need.
We then got to know each other. Mamadou Kane is a tall, charming, intelligent 35-year-old who has spent most of his life in the restaurant business. His brother is the head chef at Lagon I. A Peul, he comes from a town of 3000 located on the Senegal River over 400 miles northeast of Dakar, on the Mauritanian border. He spoke of their annual summer festival that occurs in mid-August as a great, fun experience. He returns every year to participate.
He counts several marabouts in his ancestry. A marabout is the religious leader of a Muslim brotherhood, of which there are several. Marabouts in Senegal wield quite a bit of political power. Mamadou mentioned a book that was written by a Kane, "An Ambiguous Adventure". It tells the story of a young boy's life, the suffering he endures during his years in Koranic school, his years of study in Paris, where he is sent to learn the ways of the French conquerors of West Africa. It's not light reading, by any means. However, it does give insight into the Islamic upbringing.
I asked Mamadou if his experience in Koranic school included the severe corporal punishment and deprivation which was detailed in the book. He affirmed it and opined that the treatment is inordinately harsh.
Mamadou then showed us a photo album of a recent baptism party for their youngest. It contains many pictures of Satou in a variety of beautiful bou-bous. Theirs is definitely a love match. They met at a dance and were married four months later. Theirs is a mixed marriage, two different tribes - Sere and Puel - which is somewhat unusual. We have met mixed marriage couples whose families have disavowed them. Not so, in this case, according to both Mamadou and Satou.
Satou brought in the main course, thieboudienne, on a large platter that she placed on the floor mat. As we took our places I noted with relief that we were to eat with forks and spoons. Satou spent most of the meal passing choice chunks of the grilled fish to our side of the platter. It was indeed the best thieboudienne I have tasted to date, though I'm by no means an expert. Anne was in complete agreement. The secret is in the sauce. I could taste onion, lemon, bouillon (Senegalese use bouillon cubes in every dish) and some other spices that gave it a pleasant "zing".
As usual I ate too much but did make room for the dessert of fresh fruit - sliced mango, pineapple and melon.
Then came the big surprise -- gifts!! Satou presented us with beautifully wrapped presents. Anne's was a bright yellow silk lacy, very revealing, panya(like a sarong) complete with beads strung on elastic which are used to secure the panya. Satou explained with much laughter this type of panya is normally worn on the wedding night. It is really quite beautiful.
I opened my present to find a handsome long-sleeved sport shirt with an African design done in subtle hues of red, black and tan. It was my size exactly! Anne and I were completely taken aback by this outpouring of generosity. Anne finally asked the question that was on both of our minds: "What made you decide to invite us to this wonderful evening?" Mamadou responded that it was because of our openness and what he described as our empathy, that he thought Satou and he would enjoy getting to know us better. We replied that we felt deeply honored. He countered that the honor was his family's.
As we said our goodbyes Satou presented us with two liter-sized water bottles - one of gingembre, the other of bouye. Mamadou invited me to accompany him to his village for the August festival. I might just take him up on that.
On the way home we discussed the overwhelming hospitality we had just experienced, especially the gifts. Were they a quick response to our gifts to the boys? If so, how could Satou have prepared them so quickly? She was with us for most of the evening. We decided to ask some of our Senegalese acquaintances.
The answer we received was " Teranga". The Senegalese pride themselves in their hospitality. One discovers often that the less a family has the more they will share with you, proportionately. Is it normal to receive gifts along with a meal? No. It's not normal, but it's not that unusual either. The consensus is that the gifts were prepared in advance. We look forward to our chance to reciprocate Satou and Mamadou's teranga.
Teranga.-- just one more reason why we love it here in Senegal.
A la prochaine,
29th
Meet Sylvo.
He’s our guide through the bolongs of the Saloum.
Confused? So were we.
It all began last week
when I met up with Anzie in Saly-Portudal.
Anzie had the somewhat enviable duty of facilitating a Peace
Corps-sponsored three-day workshop at a beach resort.
The work was demanding but the location is beautiful.
Saly is located on the Atlantic Ocean about two hours south of Dakar.
It reminds me of a
Caribbean resort like the Dominican Republic.
It consists of a series of resort hotels strung along a beautiful white
sand beach landscaped with palm trees and bougainvillea.
The tourists appear to come from France, Spain and Italy.
Americans are a rarity.
We took a stroll along the beach. As we passed each hotel we could hear the frenetic rhythms of the French disco music over the sound system, along with the announcements from the activities directors: “Water polo starts in ten minutes in the main pool!” … “Dance lessons on the patio at four o’clock!” … “ Bus leaves for the M’Bour village market in 30 minutes!”
We continue our stroll.
