Goree Island

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This entry dates to Thursday April 9, and, again, is pretty much straight out of my journal

I woke up thursday morning and mr jobe was right next to me. i shot out of bed and went to the bathroom. when i came back he had stretched himself across my part of the bed. i took the towels off the chair and sad and read my book until he woke up. we got ready and the wife brought food. we ate and left. we walked to the junction where i hailed us a cab. he said "are you sure you want to ride in that cab? the body looks sketchy." it was one of the nicer cabs i'd seen in dakar. i said "they all look like that, most worse." so we got in and set off. we sat in unmoving traffic for a while and then turned around. we took back roads and even drove through some field, which we had to stop and de-pressurize our tires for. i laughed at the thought of pulling something like that off in the US. after a few hours we got to the port (Dakar is a huge city and it took us a few hours to get anywhere).

there were so many white people because goree island is a tourist spot. but they all spoke french. i bought the tickets and we waited for the ferry. i poked around the gift shop and then sat on a bench and waited. then people started getting up, so i did too. the ferry was arriving so we all pushed towards the door and got on. i went to the top and sat in between mr jobe and some other guy. i watched a white lady who had her baby with sunglasses strapped to her back in the african way. then the boat left. i watched barges and breathed in the sea air (i've decided that water is my element). we came to the island and pushed our way off the boat.

for those of you who don't know (because i didn't until a few days before i went), Goree Island is the last place the slaves in west africa came to before they were shipped off to america and europe. i read a book about slavery written by a gambian auther. then i realized that we never learn about the slaves in relationship to africa. we only learn about them once they get to America. but it's a really cool history. i'm bringing the book home with me. it's called I Of Ebony.

we started walking around the island and i found (finally) little shops full of African jewelry. touristy, but better than european junk that i could get anywhere. i bargained (they all spoke enough english) and bought oodles of things. but it was amazing and so much fun. all of the shop owners were telling me that i was their first customer, so i was getting a good deal. yeah...nice try.

there were gorgeous african paintings and i took pictures until the artists told me i wasn't allowed to. so i secretly took more pictures as we were walking. woman were yelling at me to come look at their shops, even when i told them i had no more money. i got amazing deals on things and bargaining is one of my favorite things to do. we went to a large building, which i assume was the slavemaster's house. it was the only place on the whole island with a weird energy. although i suppose that the entire island had a weird energy because it was good. it felt wrong because so much suffering had happened there. my mind compared it to putting a whole bunch of gift shops in auschwitz.

the views were beautiful and i have hundreds of pictures. we ate an expensive lunch (tourist island, remember). then we went to the slave house, which was due to open 40 minutes later. so instead of waiting, mr jobe wanted to run and catch the ferry. so we ran and got on. i sat next to a white girl and an indian girl. then the white girl started talking on her cell phone in english. she was from England. when she hung up i started talking to her. her name was josephine. her friend, the indian girl, was from maryland. her name was rachel. i also met a guy from new york when we were at the restaurant. he lives in kenya now.

josephine and rachel are taking gap years and were teachers in senegal for two months. the day i met them was their last day before going home. we got off the ferry and walked for a long time through Dakar and saw the biggest mosque in the city (i have pictures...don't worry). then we hailed a cap. i took pictures from the car and a hawker on the highway started yelling at me because he thought i had taken his picture (i hadn't).

alongside with the whole 'no rules of the road' thing, people are in the middle of the highways selling everything and anything. i actually made a list of everything i saw people selling. they come up to the windows of your car (especially in the traffic zones) and thrust their products at you. there were: toothpicks, cue tips, tissues, beaters, boxers, crackers, gum, peanuts, trash bags, movies, blow-up elephants and spidermans, rugs, curtains, clementines, cheese, cd cases, air fresheners, cookies, matches, rugs, car phone chargers, cell phone cases, toys, juice, etc. you name it...it's probably being sold on a highway in Senegal.

we went home and i journaled while mr jobe watched football on tv. we ate dinner and then talked about money.

clarification: i had expected to pay for most of the vacation. as a teacher, mr jobe gets paid very little. he was taking time out of his vacation to take me to senegal. and senegal is super expensive. so i expected to pay for fares and food. i was really only pissed off at the phone credit and shoes thing, and aunty bin agrees with me on that.

we agreed to give our homestay CFA20,000 ($40) for letting us sleep there and feeding us. i took out the money and mr jobe said "let me give it to them." i said "i would really like to give it to them." he said, "but it would be better if i gave it to them because i brought you here." i said, "it's my money and i've paid for this whole trip, so i would really like to give it to them." he said, "don't worry about it. give me the money."
so i threw it at him. i was so mad that when he left the room i punched the bed and swore under my breath. i was shaking to the point where i could no longer write. when he came back he said "they were very happy." i said nothing. i wanted to cry. i turned away and read my book. at 9:30 i went to sleep. that night he invaded my area of the bed again so i kicked him extra hard "in my sleep." i didn't get much sleep.

at 7am the next morning (good friday) my alarm went off and i was so excited to go home. i went to take a shower, but there was no water. we left without breakfast and got a cab. then we got in one of those colorful vans that we saw everywhere in the city. 6 rows of five people on thin foam-padded seats. and people hanging out of the back. i was in the front row. i didn't know if it was taking us to a smaller car or to the border. an hour into the ride i put my backpack on the floor and made myself a little more comfy, bracing myself for the long ride ahead. the van made a bunch of stops and my butt started to hurt.

then the van stopped in a lot filled with vans and taxis. people started to get up and leave. i glanced back and mr jobe informed me that this was not our stop. i bought for rolls of bread for breakfast. after four hours of riding in the van we got into a smaller car which took us to the border. i'm out of internet time, so the rest tomorrow.

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