Well Dakar was...well for lack of a better expression it just was. Same thing most big cities have...lots of problems. The city wasn't without Talibes, Baye Fall's, hookers, schemers, pan handlers, hawkers, etc. etc. Everyone is trying to get something out of you. There is no two ways about that...
Which lead me to a realization. I have just an overwhelming distrust for people now; well most people. It may seem sad, but I guarentee I wouldn't have lasted this long without her street savvy. I would be walking around clothesless at this point. There are few genuine people in this world I know. I probably could say I only know a handful (I surely am not one of them either). But at least back home if someone was not genuine they wouldn't be eyeing you up to see what they could get out of you. It is quite different here...maybe that's for the better though. If people here didn't have the mentality of eat or get eaten; this part of the World would still be under colonial rule. Without a doubt. Also, I can't say it has to do with the religious aspect that begging is kind of condoned. This is because other parts of the world have the same issues. It isn't laziness in my opnion either. It really has to do with fact that as much as all these kids do is dream of going to a school...survival is way more important. Also seeing how the average life expectancy is in 50's, you don't really have time to waste in school. At the end of the day, an education isn't gonna help you when you are 6 foot under...
We had two robbin' hoods with banter while we were in Dakar. The scheme was they would try to sell you this stuff as you were walking. Very nice, the usual Teranga stuff. One would then grab your pant leg and vigariously shake your leg. While the other would attempt to go into your pocket. Any loose bills or change would fall out and you would be non the wiser. Salif had some super pants with zip pockets. Didn't work on him. However, I had regular shorts on and when the banter continued and they came over to me they were able to get my mobile out! This Toubab however wasn't born yesterday and I looked to both of them and said my phone. One guy hands it over and was yeah it fell out. RIGHT RIGHT. I thanked him and told them both it was a neat trick. They were pretty nice guys.
I'm starting my wind down here. Vacation is close to being over and then only a week and a half till I leave for home...
Song of the Moment: I Want You Back - Discovery
Toubab Shout Out: TO MY POPS FOR GETTING EVERYTHING TAKEN CARE OF WITH THE FLIGHT...YOU ARE THE MAN
PS: I am in Cap Skiring (one of the nicest beaches in West Africa) we enjoyed a fresh mango yesterday and fresh Crab right off the beach caught two minutes earlier...HAHAHA...my life
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
LONG TIME NO POST
Hey all...I am really sorry haven't updated this in awhile. It's been more me trying to lve it up here then anything else. Either way I am sorry. I wish I had more time to blog, and there might be some retrospective posts when I get back that I have written out.
Well Salif and I are on our vacation(and you all thought this was my vacation, HA). We are in transit to Casamance. Don't read up on it too much everyone, all the stories aren't true. However, it is meant to be gorgeous. We are taking the boat from Dakar to Ziguinchor. Then taking a pirogue down to Cap Skiring, aparently the best beaches in Senegal. So far so good. Got into Dakar yesterday and are staying at an Auberge for about 6000 CFA a night. Not bad at all. I already miss Saint Louis though; family, friends, and the Talibes. It's going to be weird going to a lush green area after spending 2 mois in the Desert. Probably will remind me a lot of home. I haven't been graced by the feeling of rain drops on my skin in awhile. It's the little things in life...
Before we parted we had the pleasure of attending the Saint Louis Hip/Hop and Rap festival. All the youth were out because it was free. We heard some Reggae sets that had everyone buzzin'. It was nice to see everyone jamming out. Mister Bronson was chilling per usual. The music is one thing I haven't touched on. It's a mixture of reggae/rap/r&b/african drums/and more. It does really grow on you qnd to not hear djembés in the background of songs is going to be weird (and missed).
It's funny that I have been here for quite awhile, and yet it seems like time has just flown by. I don't really have the words to describe the way time and space work here, but it flip flops. Salif and I talk quite often about this. Other volunteers come for a month and they are gone so quickly. At the same flip of a coin, an event could seem like it was weeks ago, but in qctuqlity it only happened in the morning. Don't think I will ever figure that one out.
I got some Africanverses as well...paid 6000 cfa for 'em. The guy priced them at 25000. I came back with 7000. He returned with 15500. I dropped to 6000. He was so confused after this and responded but had said 7000. My response was that now I am saying 6000. Don't jerk me around man, this Toubab didn't just step off the Sept-Place. I live here. I enjoy bartering and am going to miss that as well.
Well I will try to update again sometime soon. Take it easy everyone. I miss you all.
Song of the Moment: Love is Wicked - Brick & Lace
PS: I have been called a Gnar twice in Dakar so far. Once by a rando on the street and another by a female bartender. I think she was just flirting with me. I don't really take it as a compliment here. I'd rather be a tanned Toubab. People more often assume I am Spanish. After, Cap Skiring I think even our mom is gonna think I am a blue eyed Moor. However, if we go to GNaritania to visit Al Qaeda in the Ladgreb I'll be thanking my lucky stars I am sure.
Well Salif and I are on our vacation(and you all thought this was my vacation, HA). We are in transit to Casamance. Don't read up on it too much everyone, all the stories aren't true. However, it is meant to be gorgeous. We are taking the boat from Dakar to Ziguinchor. Then taking a pirogue down to Cap Skiring, aparently the best beaches in Senegal. So far so good. Got into Dakar yesterday and are staying at an Auberge for about 6000 CFA a night. Not bad at all. I already miss Saint Louis though; family, friends, and the Talibes. It's going to be weird going to a lush green area after spending 2 mois in the Desert. Probably will remind me a lot of home. I haven't been graced by the feeling of rain drops on my skin in awhile. It's the little things in life...
Before we parted we had the pleasure of attending the Saint Louis Hip/Hop and Rap festival. All the youth were out because it was free. We heard some Reggae sets that had everyone buzzin'. It was nice to see everyone jamming out. Mister Bronson was chilling per usual. The music is one thing I haven't touched on. It's a mixture of reggae/rap/r&b/african drums/and more. It does really grow on you qnd to not hear djembés in the background of songs is going to be weird (and missed).
It's funny that I have been here for quite awhile, and yet it seems like time has just flown by. I don't really have the words to describe the way time and space work here, but it flip flops. Salif and I talk quite often about this. Other volunteers come for a month and they are gone so quickly. At the same flip of a coin, an event could seem like it was weeks ago, but in qctuqlity it only happened in the morning. Don't think I will ever figure that one out.
I got some Africanverses as well...paid 6000 cfa for 'em. The guy priced them at 25000. I came back with 7000. He returned with 15500. I dropped to 6000. He was so confused after this and responded but had said 7000. My response was that now I am saying 6000. Don't jerk me around man, this Toubab didn't just step off the Sept-Place. I live here. I enjoy bartering and am going to miss that as well.
Well I will try to update again sometime soon. Take it easy everyone. I miss you all.
Song of the Moment: Love is Wicked - Brick & Lace
PS: I have been called a Gnar twice in Dakar so far. Once by a rando on the street and another by a female bartender. I think she was just flirting with me. I don't really take it as a compliment here. I'd rather be a tanned Toubab. People more often assume I am Spanish. After, Cap Skiring I think even our mom is gonna think I am a blue eyed Moor. However, if we go to GNaritania to visit Al Qaeda in the Ladgreb I'll be thanking my lucky stars I am sure.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Sometimes a Run Can't Shake a Face
So I am writing this while it’s still fresh in my mind, and the emotions are still intact . Woke up this morning got a run in before work. Always a good thing; riding that high, I got to work…
Walked in and a boy is already sitting patiently waiting for treatment. Stanford and I take a look; yep definitely scabies. Down both legs and between the cheeks (per usual). Fair warning to those about to read this; I am not going to hold anything back. I am going to write exactly how we handle this. Even if you don’t handle things of this nature well, I implore you to continue reading. This is the closest thing the majority of you will get to experiencing this and what these children go through:
Get him in the shower to begin the process. We have the boy strip off his dirt clad clothes. It exposes his dark skin ravaged by tiny sores on the lower half. I look into his eyes and try to tell him in what little Wolof I know that it will all be okay. Those eyes are so full of fear stemming from the knowledge of what hardship he is about to experience. They reflect back at me, he can sense the sorrow I already am being to have for him build within me. I take a cup full of the frigid water and pour it over the boy’s head. This liquid sets off an immediate autonomic response in him as he begins to shiver. His skin is no longer faded by the dust and sand, but instead glistens like a shiny, new paint job that it still wet from application. Starting at the top (always the easy part first to gain the trust), I begin to scrub him with rough rag and soap. The tentative half-grin I flash him doesn’t work. He knows what I have to do; and those brown eyes convey a look of just get it over with. I give him a nod. As the rag meets the infected area, I hear that sound that I have come to hate. That first whimper is always the worst. You have no choice but to continue despite their pleading. You have to almost lose that innate ability for a human being to care for another to help them. The thought that blood is in fact THICKER than water comes to my mind. I watch the crimson run down the legs to meet the water standing below. It creates some sinister slick of human blood and water. It swirls. Got to focus. I’m rough with this rag because I know it’s easier than what still has to come. I look him over to make sure I have scrubbed everywhere. Shit, this poor boy has it on his penis and scrotum as well. More cold to wash off the soap and red life force that continues to ooze from his body. Pass him to C, who dries him off and ushers him into one of the rooms. I give a look up to ceiling. A futile attempt to get God, Allah, or whatever it is to give me a look back. The same plain ceiling remains. Some higher power authority isn’t going to take away the pain this child is about to endure. I look down at my gloves; they resemble some off white canvas with streaks of red, crimson, and some hue of brown. Almost mocking the fact that the job, the painting isn’t finished. Detachment, that’s the word for what I feel now. I have to, there is no other choice. I walk into the room as Stanford and C get the child up on the vinyl covered table. I throw away the used gloves for some new canvas. C and Stanford begin wiping down the crusted skin with Dakin. You have to be rough at this stage as well. Worse can still come. The purple mixes with the crimson and yellow. His body is doing everything it can to fight a losing, uphill battle. Tweezers are the worst part. The sheer sight of the reflective, metallic instrument sets the child into a terrible fit. He’s lucky though, at least they are the good ones. Stanford, either subconsciously or consciously, has grabbed the best pair. C, one of the Senegalese volunteers, and I assume positions around the child. We begin with the rear first, maybe it’s so we don’t have to see the poor kids face. I don’t know, but it seems to always happen that way. He screams and writhes like a possessed being. Despite his attempts to escape, he can’t overcome our combined efforts. Thankfully, Stanford is quick and efficient. Re-Dakin, apply the Ascabiol. I don’t really think that Ascabiol is effective with cases this bad. It’s better than nothing at the end of the day. The cream colored liquid is wiped around the newly opened lesions. The rouge is applied; leaving a pinkish hue against his dark skin. We flip him over. Give him a break and some water. The crying fades for a short period of time. I man the legs, as another volunteer holds his upper body and arms. Stanford and C attempt to do both the legs at the same time (quicker is better for this). The boy successfully squirms so much making it impossible for the pair to work at the same time. C takes over and meticulously begins to remove the sloughing skin from the body. It’s unnatural. Le gale has a way of making the skin begin to deteriorate, defeating the whole purpose in which nature created it. I give another look up. Same ceiling, same unanswered plea from the boy and myself. My senses are dulled. His cries are faint and thankfully I can’t smell that stale smell that accompanies any medical facility. I feel bad for C and Stanford in that regard. C finishes. Re-Dakin, apply the Ascabiol, apply the rouge. Gauze is applied to the biggest, isolated sores. The clusters of hellacious craters that cover the knees are wrapped in gauze roll. Apply the betadine. The Cover-All is too difficult to work with gloves on. Stanford takes hers off, and I follow suit. So what if either of us gets le Gale. At least then maybe one of us would have some small idea what this boy has already been through in his short life. The Betadine runs through and a brown stain is left. I hate that stain. That color. I hate it because I know what lies beneath. Something that makes me question my already faltering faith. I see a sucker on the table. I grab it and hand it to the boy. Our eyes meet again; they always do when you are working on these boys. I attempt that signature half-grin of mine again, as I look into that pair of dark saucers. He flashes a slight smile. Avert my gaze, and wipe my watery eyes with my forearm covered in beads of sweat. I can’t see them, but I know they are gray at this moment and not blue; despite the light blue shirt. We give him new clothes. Before he can even leave the room, another boy has come in. He has the le gale also. I already have subconsciously put on new canvas for the next horrid painting. I walk outside to feel the African sun beat on my skin that’s attempting to change its hue. I don’t bother to look up and plead this time. I’m sure the sky is beautiful though; but its beauty won’t change anything right now. Grab two quick long drags off another volunteer’s cigarette. Walk back into the room to do it all again. It’s still only 10:32 in the morning, and I don’t think my run can negate the meeting of eyes I will experience this morning. I won’t forget that slight smile the boy has given through all this, never forget…
We are fighting forest fires with Dixie cups over here. All of you that read this know me. I don’t ask for much, if anything. I am pleading…NO…scratch that…I am a humble man…I am begging you guys if you have any access to the following things (or know someone who does) please help these kids. If you would like to send anything (clothes, medical supplies, financial support, etc.) please contact my father for the address. I will personally reimburse everyone for the postage. Off the top of my head I can think of the following things that would be greatly appreciated:
Gloves, Gauze, Cover-All, OpSite, Iodine, Hydrocortisone cream, Triple Antibiotic Ointment, scissors, tweezers, forceps, scalpels, stitching kits, medical/athletic tape, Oral Antibiotics, Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Topical analgesics…and more specifically for Scabies: 5% Permetrin Topical crème or Ivermectin
THANK ALL OF YOU IN ADVANCE. EVEN IF YOU DON’T SEND ANYTHING AND YOU READ THIS. AT LEAST NOW YOU ARE AWARE. AND KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE. SORRY THAT IS MY FUTILE ATTEMPT FOR SOME HUMOR TODAY.
Song of the Moment: Hope – Fat Freddy’s Drop
Walked in and a boy is already sitting patiently waiting for treatment. Stanford and I take a look; yep definitely scabies. Down both legs and between the cheeks (per usual). Fair warning to those about to read this; I am not going to hold anything back. I am going to write exactly how we handle this. Even if you don’t handle things of this nature well, I implore you to continue reading. This is the closest thing the majority of you will get to experiencing this and what these children go through:
Get him in the shower to begin the process. We have the boy strip off his dirt clad clothes. It exposes his dark skin ravaged by tiny sores on the lower half. I look into his eyes and try to tell him in what little Wolof I know that it will all be okay. Those eyes are so full of fear stemming from the knowledge of what hardship he is about to experience. They reflect back at me, he can sense the sorrow I already am being to have for him build within me. I take a cup full of the frigid water and pour it over the boy’s head. This liquid sets off an immediate autonomic response in him as he begins to shiver. His skin is no longer faded by the dust and sand, but instead glistens like a shiny, new paint job that it still wet from application. Starting at the top (always the easy part first to gain the trust), I begin to scrub him with rough rag and soap. The tentative half-grin I flash him doesn’t work. He knows what I have to do; and those brown eyes convey a look of just get it over with. I give him a nod. As the rag meets the infected area, I hear that sound that I have come to hate. That first whimper is always the worst. You have no choice but to continue despite their pleading. You have to almost lose that innate ability for a human being to care for another to help them. The thought that blood is in fact THICKER than water comes to my mind. I watch the crimson run down the legs to meet the water standing below. It creates some sinister slick of human blood and water. It swirls. Got to focus. I’m rough with this rag because I know it’s easier than what still has to come. I look him over to make sure I have scrubbed everywhere. Shit, this poor boy has it on his penis and scrotum as well. More cold to wash off the soap and red life force that continues to ooze from his body. Pass him to C, who dries him off and ushers him into one of the rooms. I give a look up to ceiling. A futile attempt to get God, Allah, or whatever it is to give me a look back. The same plain ceiling remains. Some higher power authority isn’t going to take away the pain this child is about to endure. I look down at my gloves; they resemble some off white canvas with streaks of red, crimson, and some hue of brown. Almost mocking the fact that the job, the painting isn’t finished. Detachment, that’s the word for what I feel now. I have to, there is no other choice. I walk into the room as Stanford and C get the child up on the vinyl covered table. I throw away the used gloves for some new canvas. C and Stanford begin wiping down the crusted skin with Dakin. You have to be rough at this stage as well. Worse can still come. The purple mixes with the crimson and yellow. His body is doing everything it can to fight a losing, uphill battle. Tweezers are the worst part. The sheer sight of the reflective, metallic instrument sets the child into a terrible fit. He’s lucky though, at least they are the good ones. Stanford, either subconsciously or consciously, has grabbed the best pair. C, one of the Senegalese volunteers, and I assume positions around the child. We begin with the rear first, maybe it’s so we don’t have to see the poor kids face. I don’t know, but it seems to always happen that way. He screams and writhes like a possessed being. Despite his attempts to escape, he can’t overcome our combined efforts. Thankfully, Stanford is quick and efficient. Re-Dakin, apply the Ascabiol. I don’t really think that Ascabiol is effective with cases this bad. It’s better than nothing at the end of the day. The cream colored liquid is wiped around the newly opened lesions. The rouge is applied; leaving a pinkish hue against his dark skin. We flip him over. Give him a break and some water. The crying fades for a short period of time. I man the legs, as another volunteer holds his upper body and arms. Stanford and C attempt to do both the legs at the same time (quicker is better for this). The boy successfully squirms so much making it impossible for the pair to work at the same time. C takes over and meticulously begins to remove the sloughing skin from the body. It’s unnatural. Le gale has a way of making the skin begin to deteriorate, defeating the whole purpose in which nature created it. I give another look up. Same ceiling, same unanswered plea from the boy and myself. My senses are dulled. His cries are faint and thankfully I can’t smell that stale smell that accompanies any medical facility. I feel bad for C and Stanford in that regard. C finishes. Re-Dakin, apply the Ascabiol, apply the rouge. Gauze is applied to the biggest, isolated sores. The clusters of hellacious craters that cover the knees are wrapped in gauze roll. Apply the betadine. The Cover-All is too difficult to work with gloves on. Stanford takes hers off, and I follow suit. So what if either of us gets le Gale. At least then maybe one of us would have some small idea what this boy has already been through in his short life. The Betadine runs through and a brown stain is left. I hate that stain. That color. I hate it because I know what lies beneath. Something that makes me question my already faltering faith. I see a sucker on the table. I grab it and hand it to the boy. Our eyes meet again; they always do when you are working on these boys. I attempt that signature half-grin of mine again, as I look into that pair of dark saucers. He flashes a slight smile. Avert my gaze, and wipe my watery eyes with my forearm covered in beads of sweat. I can’t see them, but I know they are gray at this moment and not blue; despite the light blue shirt. We give him new clothes. Before he can even leave the room, another boy has come in. He has the le gale also. I already have subconsciously put on new canvas for the next horrid painting. I walk outside to feel the African sun beat on my skin that’s attempting to change its hue. I don’t bother to look up and plead this time. I’m sure the sky is beautiful though; but its beauty won’t change anything right now. Grab two quick long drags off another volunteer’s cigarette. Walk back into the room to do it all again. It’s still only 10:32 in the morning, and I don’t think my run can negate the meeting of eyes I will experience this morning. I won’t forget that slight smile the boy has given through all this, never forget…
We are fighting forest fires with Dixie cups over here. All of you that read this know me. I don’t ask for much, if anything. I am pleading…NO…scratch that…I am a humble man…I am begging you guys if you have any access to the following things (or know someone who does) please help these kids. If you would like to send anything (clothes, medical supplies, financial support, etc.) please contact my father for the address. I will personally reimburse everyone for the postage. Off the top of my head I can think of the following things that would be greatly appreciated:
Gloves, Gauze, Cover-All, OpSite, Iodine, Hydrocortisone cream, Triple Antibiotic Ointment, scissors, tweezers, forceps, scalpels, stitching kits, medical/athletic tape, Oral Antibiotics, Ibuprofen, Tylenol, Topical analgesics…and more specifically for Scabies: 5% Permetrin Topical crème or Ivermectin
THANK ALL OF YOU IN ADVANCE. EVEN IF YOU DON’T SEND ANYTHING AND YOU READ THIS. AT LEAST NOW YOU ARE AWARE. AND KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE. SORRY THAT IS MY FUTILE ATTEMPT FOR SOME HUMOR TODAY.
Song of the Moment: Hope – Fat Freddy’s Drop
The Safest Most Dangerous Region in the World
It's funny to see the parallels at work while I am here. Although many
people consider West Africa one of the most unsafe places on this
Globe; there are a few reasons why at the end of the day that is not
the case. Case in point; the main reason that comes to mind is for the
children here. IN NO WAY WOULD IT BE SAFE OR SMART TO ALLOW CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 12 WALK THE STREETS IN THE STATES AT NIGHT(I won't be letting my young kids walk around like that during the daytime with everything that appens there). However, little kids here run around and play without the supervision of their parents all the time. They run up to strange persons to shake their hands and say hello. It isn't negligence or lack of responsibility, but an overwhelming sense of community and trust that allows this to happen. Everyone knows everyone here, and the people watch out for one another (and others family members). I wish our country would return to these roots (yes I know that there are so,e places like this, but for the most part this sense of community and caring has been placed on the backburner in the States). If not for our sakes, but our future seeds I hope we can start caring about people we barely know again...
Song of the Moment: My Block - Scarface
people consider West Africa one of the most unsafe places on this
Globe; there are a few reasons why at the end of the day that is not
the case. Case in point; the main reason that comes to mind is for the
children here. IN NO WAY WOULD IT BE SAFE OR SMART TO ALLOW CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 12 WALK THE STREETS IN THE STATES AT NIGHT(I won't be letting my young kids walk around like that during the daytime with everything that appens there). However, little kids here run around and play without the supervision of their parents all the time. They run up to strange persons to shake their hands and say hello. It isn't negligence or lack of responsibility, but an overwhelming sense of community and trust that allows this to happen. Everyone knows everyone here, and the people watch out for one another (and others family members). I wish our country would return to these roots (yes I know that there are so,e places like this, but for the most part this sense of community and caring has been placed on the backburner in the States). If not for our sakes, but our future seeds I hope we can start caring about people we barely know again...
Song of the Moment: My Block - Scarface
Friday, April 2, 2010
A Boy and A Dog
So, yeah...I have a new companion. He is a stray dog, maybe a stray I
don't know. Either way, now I know what you are
thinking...rabies...mange...lost digits. This dog is more loyal than
any dog I have met in the US though. It all started one night; Chris,
Stanford, and I were walking home from a night out. After we crossed
the bridge, this group of four dogs came up to us. Chris got a wee bit
nervous, a "bad experience" with a dog when he was a child gave him a
complete aversion to the creatures. I told him to keep walking and
they will go away. Well, I was right about all the dogs, save one of
them. We all figured he wanted food, so we didn't give him any
inclination that we were providing a treat of any kind. Although, I am
fairly confident that all he wanted was companionship, because he was
probably the healthiest dog I have seen since I have been here. Long
story short; he came with us to Stanford's house and then to our home
(a 25 minute walk mind you). Now the past 3 times he has accompanied
us on our walks home late at night. Joining us at the same point each
time. Always bringing with him a wagging tail and a gentle
disposition. Chris dubbed him Vick. I decided that he would be called
that because he is a lot like the reformed NFL star trying to do the
right thing. The irony is still there in it all though, because he is
no scared to get to scrappin'. He has a necktie of sorts compliments
of me. Not as a form of ownership, because I view him as a friend in
an unfamiliar place, but more so I don't get bit by some random dog
and in fact get rabies. I'm determined to go out in a more daring way
than Poe.
*Song of the Moment: Ghetto Cowboy - Bone Thugs N Harmony
*The song of the moment is now what I imagine the young Senegalese man
that borrowed my iPOD is listening to just for reference...
TOUBAB SHOUT OUT: TO E MONEY FOR HELPING ME ADMIN THIS BLOG. THANKS
MAN, I OWE YOU SEVERAL KNOCK OFF JERSEYS FOR THIS STUFF...
don't know. Either way, now I know what you are
thinking...rabies...mange...lost digits. This dog is more loyal than
any dog I have met in the US though. It all started one night; Chris,
Stanford, and I were walking home from a night out. After we crossed
the bridge, this group of four dogs came up to us. Chris got a wee bit
nervous, a "bad experience" with a dog when he was a child gave him a
complete aversion to the creatures. I told him to keep walking and
they will go away. Well, I was right about all the dogs, save one of
them. We all figured he wanted food, so we didn't give him any
inclination that we were providing a treat of any kind. Although, I am
fairly confident that all he wanted was companionship, because he was
probably the healthiest dog I have seen since I have been here. Long
story short; he came with us to Stanford's house and then to our home
(a 25 minute walk mind you). Now the past 3 times he has accompanied
us on our walks home late at night. Joining us at the same point each
time. Always bringing with him a wagging tail and a gentle
disposition. Chris dubbed him Vick. I decided that he would be called
that because he is a lot like the reformed NFL star trying to do the
right thing. The irony is still there in it all though, because he is
no scared to get to scrappin'. He has a necktie of sorts compliments
of me. Not as a form of ownership, because I view him as a friend in
an unfamiliar place, but more so I don't get bit by some random dog
and in fact get rabies. I'm determined to go out in a more daring way
than Poe.
*Song of the Moment: Ghetto Cowboy - Bone Thugs N Harmony
*The song of the moment is now what I imagine the young Senegalese man
that borrowed my iPOD is listening to just for reference...
TOUBAB SHOUT OUT: TO E MONEY FOR HELPING ME ADMIN THIS BLOG. THANKS
MAN, I OWE YOU SEVERAL KNOCK OFF JERSEYS FOR THIS STUFF...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Run 'Nuff Said
Please bare with me because I hae no other way of doing this...
7:29 AM...beep...start...man I hate stretching...Pssttt...ahh...the ever familiar hail of a taxi here...or toubab...turn around and see a young girl carrying fresh bread home for breakfast...surely that wasn't her...I...HATE...RUNNING...IN...THE...SAND...finally pavement...man it still must be early because those guys aren't even out selling coffee yet...bonjour toubab...bonjour...nothing beats the smell of the boulangerie in the morning...the main drag...man there aren't that many black and yellows at the turnabout yet...that will be a differet story when I get back...the market stalls are slowly opening...I guess I'll run on the sidewalk...almost roll my ankle...back on the road it is...bonjour toubab...bonjour... what's the commotion before the bridge...ahh I don't think that car rapide's muffler should be glowing bright orange and shooting out hot embers...I hate this footbridge...too narrow...too mant people...slow to a trot...there's another runner...we both look at each other with the same look...i wish we could just push these people off this bridge...an opening...we nod as we pass...almost to the end...there we go off...over the langue bridge...this place is way busier than the market near the stade...see q fqther son fishing duo...he was predestined for that life way before he was born...his son will be a fisherman...and his son's son...he doesn't seem to mind...get to the crumbling stairs leading to the ocean...breathe in the fresh, salty air...remember home, friends, family, my...donne-moi l'argent...kid does it look like I have money? I'm on a...remember I'm in Senegal...Je n'ai rien...head bqck home...back over the lange bridge...traffic is picking up...let's take the car bridge instead...I'd rather risk getting hit on this tetanus, strewn monolith then wait for people on that Godforsaken footbridge...ahh there is one way traffic...that makes this easier...and quicker...the market is bustling now...bananas and beignets...pants and crevettes...knock off jerseys and DVDs...a noire et jaune on my tail...what is his problem...he yells at me in wolof qnd points to the sidewalk...i yell at him in english and point ahead...he is gonna get caught in traffic ahead...should i???yeah I saved enough in the tanks...hop on the sidewalk...kick it into the next gear...time this just right...cut back on the road...in front of him...look back...wave...smile...au revoir...past the roundabout...passed the OiLibya...take the wrong turn at the wrong TiGo sign...backtrack...take the right turn...back to the sand...to the house...bonjour toubab...bonjour...beep...stop...8:03 AM
Song of the Moment: Nothing Song - Sigur Ros
7:29 AM...beep...start...man I hate stretching...Pssttt...ahh...the ever familiar hail of a taxi here...or toubab...turn around and see a young girl carrying fresh bread home for breakfast...surely that wasn't her...I...HATE...RUNNING...IN...THE...SAND...finally pavement...man it still must be early because those guys aren't even out selling coffee yet...bonjour toubab...bonjour...nothing beats the smell of the boulangerie in the morning...the main drag...man there aren't that many black and yellows at the turnabout yet...that will be a differet story when I get back...the market stalls are slowly opening...I guess I'll run on the sidewalk...almost roll my ankle...back on the road it is...bonjour toubab...bonjour... what's the commotion before the bridge...ahh I don't think that car rapide's muffler should be glowing bright orange and shooting out hot embers...I hate this footbridge...too narrow...too mant people...slow to a trot...there's another runner...we both look at each other with the same look...i wish we could just push these people off this bridge...an opening...we nod as we pass...almost to the end...there we go off...over the langue bridge...this place is way busier than the market near the stade...see q fqther son fishing duo...he was predestined for that life way before he was born...his son will be a fisherman...and his son's son...he doesn't seem to mind...get to the crumbling stairs leading to the ocean...breathe in the fresh, salty air...remember home, friends, family, my...donne-moi l'argent...kid does it look like I have money? I'm on a...remember I'm in Senegal...Je n'ai rien...head bqck home...back over the lange bridge...traffic is picking up...let's take the car bridge instead...I'd rather risk getting hit on this tetanus, strewn monolith then wait for people on that Godforsaken footbridge...ahh there is one way traffic...that makes this easier...and quicker...the market is bustling now...bananas and beignets...pants and crevettes...knock off jerseys and DVDs...a noire et jaune on my tail...what is his problem...he yells at me in wolof qnd points to the sidewalk...i yell at him in english and point ahead...he is gonna get caught in traffic ahead...should i???yeah I saved enough in the tanks...hop on the sidewalk...kick it into the next gear...time this just right...cut back on the road...in front of him...look back...wave...smile...au revoir...past the roundabout...passed the OiLibya...take the wrong turn at the wrong TiGo sign...backtrack...take the right turn...back to the sand...to the house...bonjour toubab...bonjour...beep...stop...8:03 AM
Song of the Moment: Nothing Song - Sigur Ros
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Missed Connections Craigslist Senegal
Dear Young Senegalese Man w: B/W hat,
Although a simple "Hey man, I like your music" would have sufficed. This was not enough for you. I will take it as the ultimate form of flattery to have enough gusto to nick my iPOD from the bar while we were all there enjoying the music over the surround system. It's especially impressive thqt you would do this because my music is was so appealling to you, because a friend of mine witnessed what your countrymen do to thieves (mob justice is apparently are normal for you all). I also have to take time and thank you for allowing me the opportunity to experience how your law system works. You will be interested to know that it is not that different than the US. A lot of waiting around the police statoin for nothing of frutition to come about. Either way I hope you enjoy my musicbase thoroughly with your friends. You guys could have a bitchin' house party with some of the songs on there.
Sincerely,
me
PS: I can't wait to hear "Turnt Up" bumpin' out of all the car rapides in Saint-Louis.
Song of the Moment: Soundguy is My Target - Rusko
Although a simple "Hey man, I like your music" would have sufficed. This was not enough for you. I will take it as the ultimate form of flattery to have enough gusto to nick my iPOD from the bar while we were all there enjoying the music over the surround system. It's especially impressive thqt you would do this because my music is was so appealling to you, because a friend of mine witnessed what your countrymen do to thieves (mob justice is apparently are normal for you all). I also have to take time and thank you for allowing me the opportunity to experience how your law system works. You will be interested to know that it is not that different than the US. A lot of waiting around the police statoin for nothing of frutition to come about. Either way I hope you enjoy my musicbase thoroughly with your friends. You guys could have a bitchin' house party with some of the songs on there.
Sincerely,
me
PS: I can't wait to hear "Turnt Up" bumpin' out of all the car rapides in Saint-Louis.
Song of the Moment: Soundguy is My Target - Rusko
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
