Senegal experience - Journal no. 2

22^nd July to the 3^rd August 2009

 

Life in the village goes on

It’s the evening of the 22^nd July and I decided on an early night, as D and I are off to the city of Ziguinchor in the morning.  To use the ATM, access the Internet at a local Hotel and to travel onto the fishing village of Kaufountine.

I’m still sleeping in D’s lodge or hut, by the way, as she continues to have a problem with a family of mice that have taken up residence there. The things that we guys have to do, eh!!!

Centre of photo, our compound and huts beyond

As I say I decided on an early night only to be woken first by a mouse squirming on a piece of cardboard positioned at the head of the bed covered in a sticky non-toxic paste (Senegalese mouse trap), placed strategically round the mouse whole. Then by a phone call from Deanne, indicating that Caddie, wife to Sadou, brother to the chief of the village, was about to have their 1^st baby, they were all going to rush to the nearby village hospital in Carrefour on a donkey cart.

If you’ve ever ridden a donkey cart you will quickly understand the humour of the situation, fast its not!!

I would testify just how slow the cart can be the following day when I managed to get to the nearby town on foot quicker than the cart.

Baby Deanne borne in the village

Anyway, next minute D dashes in, re-iterates her early phone message, looks around for something, I’m not sure what in a semi elated state and dashes out as quickly as she appeared. A couple of minutes later I receive the second phone call of the evening, ‘it’s a girl’, and then, ‘I’d be horrified at the primitive way in which the baby was delivered’. 

Two Deanne's together - a later photo

After a half an hour or so, the silence occasionally punctuated by the mouse squirming on the cardboard on the floor behind me, D pops into her hut, my temporary sleeping quarters, and recounts how the mother had given birth by the time she’d returned to Sadou’s hut/home.

Apparently, D was confronted, on entering room, by the mother laying on the hard packed earthen floor Caddie, placenta and baby for all to see. Calmly, if indifferently, attended to by the wives and Caddie’s grandmother.

Interestingly, the baby comes into the world almost white and only develops colour as it matures.

After five minutes or so the cord was cut and the baby washed, all very brutal according to D. The baby was and is fine by the way, fit and healthy.

As for the mouse it got away!! When I told D that we had successfully trapped the offending mouse, she suggested that I should’ve banged it over the head with a shovel. Lovely!! Where I was supposed to find a shovel at 1.00 a.m. in the morning and in the pitch black I’m not sure.

Donkey Cart to Carrefour

The following morning, the 23^rd July, we set off to the nearby town of Carrefour on an, ‘Express’, donkey cart with Deanne, Sadou, two local boys, myself, our luggage and various other items on board. 

After a short distance and a brutal assault by a local lad with the small branch of a tree drawing blood to the hindquarters of the single donkey pulling the cart, something that would give an RSPCA inspector apoplexy, I decided to walk. I’m not passing judgment by the way I just wanted to stretch my legs and I’ve already accepted that’s how things are here. Not a lot of difference on foot anyway it still took an hour and a half to reach the town.

Sadou seemed almost blasé about the birth of his first baby, if anything D is more excited, they are going to name the baby after her in a formal ceremony held the following Wednesday.

Villagers, Sadou and I

The villagers often make trips to the town with dried corn or maize to a local mill, an eight-foot square wooden shack. The raw materials are fed into a hopper, about the size of a leaf mulcher in the UK, and ground to flour, only after being passed through several times. 

Villagers in Carrefour

Some have family there or perhaps to buy vegetables and dried fish at the market. There’s a surprisingly poor choice of produce here and most of its pretty scrawny, shriveled carrots, onions, peppers, chillies and tomatoes, most of which we’d throw away in the UK. Fruit is a better option with bananas, watermelon and oranges to choose from. Beer, alcohol and meat maybe another reason to visit Carrefour, although discreetly.

There’s one shop, with a humourless owner that is known to sell all types of alcohol, however, woe betide you if you leave the premises with the item clearly on display.

The small town of Carrefour

The town of Carrefour is set round a T-junction with the main road passing straight through and a right fork leading to the southern city of Kolda.

The central junction area, a frenetic place as only Africa can be, is the point where most of the shops, market and stalls are and where buses and the Sept+ stop.

There’s a small hospital (on the Kolda road), two schools, one hotel (the only two storey building), a garrison or army barracks and a mosque or two. All the houses are small, traditional and simple, with the odd elaborate exception. The roads that bisect the principle arteries are tracks, dust tracks in the dry season.

Africans, I guess like most people in poorer countries, are very resourceful, with a large number of the buildings leading in to town used as repair shops for any and every vehicle that travels the Senegal roads. The ground invariable saturated with the contents of one engine or another over the years and indiscriminately strewn with a vast array of engine parts. 

Open storm drains run alongside the principle street often the depository for waste matter. Rubbish, here, as everywhere in Africa is a problem, it litters the surrounding town and countryside. 

Trip to the capital of the Casamance region

We’re off to Ziguinchor today my first trip to the city to the North-East of Casamance, set along the river of the same name.

After the ritual of negotiating a price for a taxi, Sadou helped as a respected member of the community, and the usual wait while all of the places are filled, we’re off in what would become a familiar and endearing mode of transport. The most common vehicle is an extended Peugeot 505 seating seven plus the driver, hence the name ‘Sept+’.

The car or cars are normally estate cars, invariably in a poor condition, probably over 40+ years old, with numerous signs of ‘make shift’ repairs and more often than not festooned with personal and religious memorabilia.

We made relatively good time though, apart from an impromptu stop for a drugs search by the police, this mainly because our fellow travellers were young local males.

The most interesting part of the journey for me was negotiating a cobbled road approximately 4 kilometers long on the outskirts of the city. Built by the French colonial power during the late 1800’s, the road is elevated above the flooded mangrove swamp and unsurprisingly through the ravages of time, heavy rain, flood water and a lack of maintenance it’s now in a very a poor state of repair. Oh, I forgot to mention that it was partially flood by heavy rain the previous evening causing the river to rise above the road compounding the problem. 


History of the central city of Casamance

Ziguinchor is the capital of the Region, and the chief town of the Casamance area of Senegal, lying at the mouth of the River of the same name. The population, as of 2007, was 230,000. It's Senegal’s second largest city separated largely from the north by The Gambia.

Pictures of Ziguinchor

The first European settlers were the Portuguese in 1645. According to tradition the Ziguinchor name and meaning derives from the Portuguese Cheguei e choram, "I came and they cry", with the translation into the local dialect literally,  ‘Ziguinchor’.

Apparently local people, seeing the Europeans, began crying, thinking they were to be enslaved. Ziguinchor was in fact a slave port during much of the Portuguese occupation.

The spot was not chosen at random. While a Jola village predated the town, it was an established trading town with the Jola kingdom of Kasso, dating back to the Mali Empire, when Mendinka people moved into the area from the south and east.

Following the end of the slave trade, Portuguese commerce stultified, and the town was eventually handed over to France on 22 April 1888, in a deal brokered amongst the colonial powers at the Berlin conference of 1886.

Pictures of life in Ziguinchor

Under the French, Ziguinchor became a major trade port, mostly due to the intensive groundnut cultivation actively encouraged.

By 1900, the area was largely converted to Christianity, although significant Syncretist and Muslim communities flourished.

Rice growing, the traditional crop of the region was hurt by the push to cultivate groundnuts, and extensive forest areas were cleared. The French government also imported rice across West Africa from the intensive farming they encouraged in French Indochina, shrinking the market for Casamance's main produce.

After independence, the city saw its economic growth slow, in part due to the War of Independence in neighbouring Guinea-Bissau. Portuguese military crossed into the area at least once, pursuing PAIG rebels, and cannon fire could be heard in the city for much of the war. During this period Ziguinchor became a main post for both the Senegalese Army and French forces, guarding the frontier, a frontier, which cut in two Diola families and communities.

The capital of Casamance, Ziguinchor has been at the center of the three decade long conflict with Dakar, that has flared into open civil war on more than one occasion.

Ziguinchor remains economically dependent on its role as a cargo port, transport hub and ferry terminal. 

Ziguinchor airport entrance

The "Nationale 4" highway crosses the Casamance River just east of the city, linking the region with Bignonia about 25 km to the north and via The Gambia the rest of Senegal.

Facilities in the town include markets, a cathedral, airport and in February 2007 the Ziguinchor University, it's is also home to a large peanut oil factory. 

University students

The region is also known for growing great quantities of rice, oranges, mangoes, bananas, cashews, tropical fruits and vegetables, fish, and prawns, much of which are processed locally and exported from the city from its port and airport.

Arriving in Ziguinchor

Anyway, we arrived safely. Described in the travel book, ‘The Lonely Planet’, as ‘an ex-colonial city damaged during the local war in 1993 with little effort to effect repair’.

We were dropped off at the Gare Routier (transport station), which typically doubles as the market. The local Africans are nothing if not opportunistic, what better place to sell food, drinks, mobile phones, toys, bags, etc., etc.  

Gare Routier or bus station

Anyway, we gathered ourselves, constantly harassed by touts trying to sell something, and organized a taxi to take us to D’s friend Richard a local architect who lives in suburbs of the city with his brother Cow (I’m sure that I have spelt his name correctly), a university lecturer, in what would be considered a good residential area. To me it resembled Beirut! Anyway it’s a nice house with a toilet, shower and a bed with a mattress, heaven! 

Images of Ziguinchor

We walked into the town center did a small food shop and then headed to the Hotel Parquet, a popular traveller's venue primarily because it has good Internet access and we are able to charge our equipment for free.

The Hotel is situated along the Casamance River bank, close to the ferry terminal. There’s a large covered terrace with about 12 basic en-suite rooms over and 8 further basic rooms all set in a walled garden.

Local boats on the Casamance River

That evening D cooked a wonderful meal in comparatively primitive conditions with none of the modern appliances that you find in the UK. 


The following day we explored the city, experienced a little of the local cuisine along with the colour and culture of Ziguinchor leaving the afternoon of the 26th July for Kaufountine, a local fishing village to the North-West of Casamance.

Moving onto the costal town of Kaufountine

Taxi to the market and bus station (Gare Routier). The usual seething mass of humanity, all rushing around with a purpose, however, its not always clear what that purpose is. Negotiate a ride in Sept+ or a mini-bus, try to secure the best seat and price, further discussion about the extra cost for luggage, fend off the constant stream of vendors all trying to sell you something then off we’d go. 


A fairly uneventful journey as the roads in Casamance is much better in this part of Senegal. Perhaps because this is where most of the produce, fish, rice, groundnuts, etc., come from and there’s a need to get the goods to market.

Please don’t get the wrong idea, there’s still the odd pothole and certainly the last section to Kaufountine is atrocious.

The 23 kilometers from Dioloulou to the coastal town of Kaufountine has to be the worst yet. It’s a track at best, with truck sized potholes, often flooded, slippery, slimy and a slow process to navigate. 

Deanne and a local soldier

A point of note, there is a strong military presence here but as a deterrent and often supplementing the police force. We've had absolutely no problem what so ever, although roadside checks are commonplace and delay getting around the region. 


‘Rastafarian’ beach town of Kaufountine

We stayed from the 26th July to the 28th July in this very pretty, relaxed, sometimes dirty and industrious frontier town on the Atlantic coast.  With what could be a stunning beach, save for the tones of unwanted fish that wash up daily, the cattle defecating on the sand and the flotsam that washes up from waste thrown indiscriminately overboard. There’s absolutely no attempt to clear it up either. 

One road, if you can call it a road, passes through the town all the way to the beach, fisheries and the one hotel located to the far left of the beach area. Homes are predominately simple, single storey wooden huts, tightly packed around the main town and more widely and indiscriminately dispersed over a large area away from the road. Concealed by forest or foliage from each other these homes invariable have a section of farmland (300m x 100m) linked to the house. A footpath or track links the dwellings together.

Kaufountine beach - landing the catch

It’s very limited in so far as tourism, the dirty beach, lack of electric, no running water may all be contributory along with a reasonable road to The Gambia, home to the nearest international airport.

Pirogues being repaired

The town boasts, however, one of the biggest fleet of Pirogues in Senegal; there are hundreds of these huge open boats some over fifty feet in length. It’s a magnificent site with boats, judging by the various flags from Gambia, Guinea Bissau, Guinea and Senegal to name but a few.

It’s also home to a healthy boat building industry. Pirogues are constructed or repaired in the traditional manner on the sand under the shade of the palm trees.

The keel is laid down first, comprising huge sections of hardwood carved by hand and then pinned and bolted together. The base and sides are made in a similar manner of interlocking planks all carved out by hand about a foot or so wide by about 10/12 foot long and then nailed, pinned or bolted together.

The tool used, a cross between a pickaxe and a spade. It comprises a wooden handle with a curved metal section at the base, wider at the blade end. 

Local transport

Deanne and local - last of the mango

Beyond the beach are the row-upon-row of external racks, then the smoking houses 10 deep, huge structures fashioned out of wood and corrugated zinc, stretching for over a mile. Absolutely incredible! 


Superstition prevails in Kaufountine

The town itself is very laid back almost Jamaican in style with it’s Rastafarian way of life, a propensity to smoke pot or hash and with a strong connection with local music.

The people are friendly but extraordinarily superstitious, there is a strong belief in mythical beast supposedly a man that prowls the region primarily round the mango growing season, terrorizing the locals and cutting off limbs and the like, or so the story goes.

Deanne, Siaka and Lamin

Gigi's house and compound

Deanne recounted two such incidents that supposedly involved the beast. One such occasion, whilst Deanne and a friend of hers, Siaka, were walking to a local concert. At some point they were confronted by a mass of local people and various band members stampeding towards them and away from something in a state of hysteria, supposedly a man wielding two large machetes.

The second occasion, Deanne was camping in the grounds of her Italian friend Gigi's garden. Late one night she heard a wailing from outside the compound, at the same time someone banging loudly on the locked gates at either end of the compound.

Myself, Lamin and Deanne

Kaufountine beach with a lovely pair!

Whatever it was continued to pace outside the compound banging on both sets of gates for about two hours. Deanne was to frighten to venture outside on her own. Make of it what you will. The beast by the way is called the 'Concoran'.

Returning to Ndongane

The 28th July we made are way back to the village of Ndongane via Ziguinchor, on arrival we were greeted with the usually enthusiastic welcome from all the villagers. I can see why D has fallen in love with the place.

The remaining paragraph is going to be short and sweet, as this is turning into a book rather than an update. D and I carried out our 1st joint teaching lesson. It proved a great success.

Wednesday, the 29^th July, was a day of celebration or rather the baby naming ceremony. It started at 10.00 a.m. in the morning and went on until the early hours of the morning. It included a football match played between our village and the nearby village of Medina. Played with extraordinary aggression but in Great Spirit.

A return trip is planned to Ziguinchor in early August so that I can complete e-mails and provide another journal update.

Hoping that you are all well. Peter