Tales I Didn't Tell........Road to St Louis Part 1

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Last year in Senegal I decided to leave the safe bustling compound of my family and being an independent (budget) adventurer, chose to travel by public (shared) taxi from the depot in downtown Dakar to St Louis in the north, 6 hours away by car; there(theoretically ) I would once again meet up with my sister and The Truck.

There are many nuances to this mode of travel that are revealed only as the journey unfolds. First of all one has to wait until the taxi is full before leaving the depot...this can take quite a while as there are not exactly hoards of people making this journey on a random weekday morning.

The next problem is that if you want a window rather than a middle seat where you run the risk of being sandwiched between large non deodorant wearing persons, you have to rush to an empty taxi when it pulls up, leap in, station yourself in a window seat and refuse to budge for however long in the sweltering heat it takes to fill the car, van or whatever vehicle you are in.

A complication of waiting in the window seat is that every hawker and seller of wares now has direct access to you the captive audience. Everything from plastic tablecloths, toothpicks, tiger balm, oranges, sunglasses, shawls, bananas, dictionaries, batteries, USB cables, cookies, head wraps, melting chocolates etc etc etc are not only pressed into your face but often dropped into your lap.... the onus is on you to somehow return these items to the seller, but, any eye contact at all is viewed as consent and payment is insisted upon.

Trust me it's an acquired skill!

After about 2 and a half hours the van was finally full to beyond capacity and I had bought only a few of the barest necessities. I sported new sunglasses ($2 fake ray bans) and in my lap was a goodly supply of tangerines, cookies, water, dental floss and tiger balm. (I already had a towel in my bag that could double as a table cloth and my head was tied). The fully laden van had piles of luggage including a clutch of fowls for market strapped to the roof, knowing better, my bag was firmly beneath my feet and my knees just beneath my chin but at least I knew where everything was.

Horn blaring, engine rattling, baby bawling, music on full blast, feeling every pothole, side door open 'conductor' dangling out clinging on by one arm cursing at hawkers who still ran after the van, we were finally off!

I was a subject of moderate interest and much amusement in the van and was discussed and speculated about in Wolof, most observations ending in a ripple of laughter....whatever...they didn't seem unkind.

As the journey wore on and we were pressed sweaty flesh to sweaty flesh, I shared tangerines and cookies all around and there was a general softening of consensus, plus once we had shared a communal bush potty stop and I was seen to negotiate this well, we had definitely bonded.

It was shortly after this about three hours into the journey that we had our first 'incident' as we rattled along some luggage on the roof became loose and a couple things flew off (thankfully not the fowls)! We stopped amidst much grumbling and sucking of teeth directed at the incompetent 'conductor' who retrieved the pieces, retied the lot and once again were were off. Not an hour had passed before with a lurch and a bang a tire blew out. At precarious angle we ground to a halt.

This time loud exclamations and a lot more sucking of teeth directed at both conductor and driver. Out we clambered, (I left a water bottle to mark my precious window seat), the spare tyre located somewhere under piles of luggage was extracted, a wobbly jack employed and the tire was changed. While we waited I took the opportunity to whip out my camera and do a few quick portraits of a man with his beautiful, new additional second wife. By now it was well after 4 pm....night falls like a cloak at 6. We needed to get going and press on if we were going to make St Louis before dark.

Because Murphy's law is very much in effect whenever I travel, the spare tyre soon went flat, with no other spare we were well and truly stranded. Those with gigantic luggage had no choice but to wait with the van in the hope that somehow a spare tire, a truck with space or some other miracle would manifest. We all clung to this faint hope but as time marched on I threw in my lot with a bizarre wild eyed woman in complicated headdress and a man of some dubious military rank and costume, and another silent moody young man; we decided to hitch hike together into St Louis. Safety in numbers, I reasoned, certainly not wanting to try this alone but having to get off the darkening road where to the legendary bandits we would be sitting ducks. In one swift stroke night fell upon us and we found ourselves standing together a short distance from the van, thumbs out in pitch black, no moon, with only the glare of oncoming headlights illuminating us from time to time.

Hummmm.....not good.

At least my money belt with passport et al was firmly strapped to my torso beneath my clothing, I always wear shoes I can run in, had only a small carry bag and there was enough loose cash plus a cheap cell phone in my pocket which could easily be produced should anyone demand! Prepared, but, not exactly a peaceful easy feeling!

We were not there for long when lo and behold a sleek flashy car with all manner of twinkling lights pulled to a stop right in front of us. My travel companions leaped to open the doors, not to be outdone I quickly shouldered my bag and followed them in....I got a center seat.

To be continued.....

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Photos

My Senegalese family
First family meal...delicious!

Repacking luggage
Not all pieces accounted for just yet!

Fishing village
St Louis fishing village quarter

Comments

[carol]

sneakers
i have new respect for your gray sneakers that rested on my kitchen floor for a week. i cant believe that i worried about your trip from the canal to manomet. i will b sure to mention north or south from now on