Yoon bu bes – The new road

In a few hours I’ll finally be on the road to Tambacounda in eastern Senegal. (Scroll to the right on the map on our blog to see where I'm headed.) Weeks ago, I decided that this past Monday was my final deadline for going to Medina, the village where I hope to do my research. Of course nothing happens on time (I’ll leave it to you to determine whether to blame me or the environment I’m working in). But today, after rushing around town in taxis looking for the bus station, I finally have a ticket stamped with a departure time (an approximate one). That’s a good feeling.

Note: There are lots of options for traveling between towns in West Africa, including sept-place (seven seat) station wagons, mini-buses, and lumbering 1960’s Mercedes buses called Jaaga Njaay after the guy who owns most of them. All of these methods work on the principle of maximizing the amount of money made on passengers. That means packing people in. (Although at least the sept-place in Senegal cap it at seven. In Guinea they supposedly hold nine, including one straddling the stick-shift and sometimes someone on the roof.) They also wait to be full, for as long as it takes – days sometimes. Another model of transportation employs used tour buses from Europe, and tickets are sold in advance for a fixed (more or less) departure time, generally sometime around 3 in the morning. These buses depart from various marked or unmarked corners around Dakar. It seems no one can tell you which buses leave from a given station until you show up and start asking around.

Senegal is an emotional roller-coaster for me: I can swing from home-sick to jubilant and back from morning to evening. My day can suddenly brighten if I meet an especially street-side coffee-seller. Lately, I’ve been swinging about just how far away Medina really is (in an emotional sense). If it feels a long way away, being there means adjusting to a whole other world. I’ll be out of touch, I’ll be isolated. On the other hand, if it feels close it’s not such a big deal. Just like going on a weeklong work trip. I debate with myself whether it’s one way or the other, marshaling facts for each side:

• “It’s far! - They speak Pular and Jakhanke, so it will be much harder to communicate.”
• “It’s close! – They say there is cell phone reception in the village, so Dakar is just a phone call away.” (The village was in a network black hole when I was last there in 2006.)
• “It’s far! – They say it’s so hot in Tambacounda now, people have to soak their mattresses in water before they go to bed. That will make it hard to accomplish anything.” (Today’s high: 45 C = 113 F)
• “It’s close! – They just re-surfaced the road from Kaolack to Tambacounda. Now it supposedly takes only eight hours to get there!” (This section of road was memorably awful during my last visit. The trip to the city of Tambacounda used to involve twelve hours of erratic pothole-dodging. The road was so bad in some stretches that the drivers gave up on the road and drove in the dust alongside.)

The last point is important. I feel way more confident thinking about continued trips to and from Medina knowing that it takes less than a day to get there. It’s not a physical emergency I’m scared of; it’s a psychological one – the desperate need to escape the hot, dusty world of Tamba. Now I’ll have an out. With a new road, Medina sounds like less of a different world.

Also different is the purpose I’m going there with. In my previous visit I just showed up and prayed that if I talked to enough people, research would happen. Today I feel better prepared, more humbled, and more goal-oriented. Amy has been reminding me that this is just work, and that it can feel routine. If I focus on what I want to accomplish, and the details I need to work out to get me there, this seems much more manageable.

Meanwhile, Amy will be sticking around Dakar. Her work with her teacher is going so well, she’s taking advantage of every hour she has to dance. She’s also starting to handle Dakar like a pro – knowing the buses, bargaining with taxis, and speaking some impressive French.

In Senegal, it’s important to give blessings, when someone is leaving on a trip, so here’s one: Yalla nanu yalla jaapante. May God help us all out. I’ll let you know how my visit goes in about a week.