Let's Get Away for Ce Weekend
On Saturday morning, we all boarded a bus and settled into its seats for a day-long drive up the coast. We were getting away for the weekend - leaving the bustling streets of Dakar behind, and searching for a sense of quiet in the northern paradises of Senegal. Nene and Ibrahima had their respective homes in mind.
Our first pitstop was for lunch in Nene's home city of Thies. When climbing off the bus unto the wide, green roads of her peaceful city, Nene extended her arms out as an embracing greeting. We spent the lunch hour in an open-doored restaurant and it felt like I had caught my breath for the first time this trip -- Thies was open and flowered and fresh. I felt calmed. I understood Nene's longing eyes as we drove by her high school and passed the roads of her childhood. I understood why she wondered out-loud if she could spend the weekend with her family in the city. I recognized that deep sense of home within her.
After passing through Thies, the bus forged up the new highway, overtaking crawling cars and slowing at speed bumps. I spent hours upon hours simply gazing out the window. We drove through rural towns in central Senegal. We saw children playing under the sun, outside of their thatched-roof huts. We saw baobab trees scattered across the horizon, their chunky arms reaching upward. We saw "the Africa" that many people imagine --- and it reminded that "the Senegal" that I have experienced on this very short trip is far from the Western portrayals of this entire continent.
So, we drove. We drove for hours before we reached the Holy City of Touba. The bus halted to a stop at the side of the road before the entrance into the sacred city. Nene handed us head scarves and ankle-length dresses and showed us how to wrap our hair, which is sexualized. She emphasized that we had to be covered during our time in the city, or else we could be in serious trouble. We were entering into Touba , which is the holy city of Mouridism (a sect of Islamic Sufi order). The streets looked like most streets we've seen on this trip -- not much felt different, except for the towering mosque in the distance..
We went to the Mosque at Touba. We shuffled around in our socks, past the beautiful burial site of the Mouride's founder Shaikh Ahmadou Bàmba Mbàcke and we walked underneath intricately painted ceilings. We passed people praying, people sleeping, people socializing. I felt incredibly out of place and uncomfortable for being a tourist in a sacred place of worship. I felt like I was disrespecting an entire population, that I was too ignorant to tour such a place. I thought these thoughts, distracted from the tour by my strands of sweat dripping underneath my covered outfit. It was 106 degrees F and I felt it. I was ashamed for being distracted. I am ashamed to have so little to write about such an important place. But just like my post on Ile de Goree, I do not feel comfortable with writing extensively on such a significant place that I have such limited understanding of. I can only share these photos and push myself and you to learn more.
Saint Louis, Not Michigan
After our visit to Touba, we drove back towards the coast. We sat in the back of the bus, playing Two Truths and a Lie as the sun set. Before we knew it, we were in Saint Louis, scrambling off the bus for a late-night dinner at an outdoor-seated restaurant. We ate the best servings of Mafe and Yassa and curry that we've had all trip, and later, we crashed into our hotel beds with full stomachs. We didn't see much of Ibrahima's home of Saint Louis in the dark that night, but we went on a horse-carriage tour of the island the next day.
Saint Louis, in all of its coastal, colorful beauty, also exists as a burning legacy of French colonialism. The city was not only the capital of the French colony of Senegal, but it was also the capital of all of French West Africa, from 1895 to 1902. We witnessed such legacy, through the colonial homes and gridded blocks of the city. It was a surreal experience to tour such a deeply pivotal place that I have only read about in books.
Later in the day at Touba, the class drove to a privately, locally owned hotel. We had a bougie lunch of poisson and poulet, which was all prefaced with grapefruit and shrimp appetizers. We then frolicked in the Atlantic Ocean and tanned under coconut trees by the piscine. The time of relaxation made me reflect more on my trip here in Senegal. It allowed me to take a break, a breath, and remember how grateful I am to experience what we have experienced in this beautiful country. I feel so far from home, and yet, I feel like I have found a sense of place here.
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