Every year in February the expat (ex patriots otherwise known as Americans living over seas) community of Dakar Senegal host a soft ball tournament for the American community living in West Africa. It is a chance for us Peace Corps volunteers to wash off the village dirt, un-braid our hair, put on those old pair of jeans that have been collecting dust and be American.
In case you don’t know, Senegal is right next to Mali however it is one LONG bus ride away. Since there were so many Mali volunteers going we were able to rent an entire bus with 70 some odd places, five to a row. Not even going to lie. It was one hellish ride. The road is rough, the seats were ungodly uncomfortable and it was hot during the day and cold at night and not to mention we left Bamako at 5 in the morning and didn’t get into Dakar until 9 the next morning. One long bus ride. But some how we all made it nearly intact.
Arriving in Dakar, everyone on the bus was ewwing and awing over everything. Dakar is so much more developed than Mali and ten fold more so than Guinea. They have nice restaurants, hotels, and best of all and American Club. I never knew this until I came to Mali but there are these clubs set up around the world set up for Americans or other Westerners so it’s like a little America away from home. They serve hotdogs, nachos, chicken wraps and ice cream. This is also where the games were held for the softball tournament.
You guys know me, I was not going to show off my softball skills and make everyone else feel under par so I along with some others were the camera people along with the cheering squad. The team that I cheered for was the “Refugees” otherwise those known as the former PC Guinea and Mauritania people who are still in Africa. It was great to see some of my former stage mates (people I served with in Guinea) who are now in The Gambia, Benin, Senegal and Burkina Faso. Our team sucked, there is no two ways about it but we all had fun playing the three games in two days.
In all of our extra down time we hung out at the pool, went to the beach and climbed to the light house. We found a cozy little beach called the “Secret Beach” where the waves were big, the surf boards were plentiful and the sun was never setting. Some of my California friends were explaining to me how to surf, I was assured by them it wasn’t that hard and it is fun. Everyone was going out to at least try to ride a wave back in so my turn came up…. I didn’t want to chicken out but I wanted to live too. Adrenalin and some liquid courage started flowing and I decided it would be alright to try it once. I get on the board and start to paddle out and some guy starts screaming for me to come in because the waves were too big. Saved by the gods! I didn’t have to chicken out or look like a fool trying to surf. Relatively quickly the waves turned into these massive crushing beasts of the sea taking down anything it could and I didn’t want to be a part of that so I sat my little butt on the beach working on my broze.
Another morning Mark and I went up to the light house of Dakar. We walked the two miles from our home stay and climbed up the hill along with some other expats in their little track suites while we are in tanks and pants. The light house is open to the public so we got to climb the three flights of stairs to the landing to look out over the massive city. We saw the ports, the mansions, downtown and the islands. It was gorgeous. The lighthouse is also right by the international airport (that I actually flew into when coming to Guinea oh so long ago) so we watched some planes land over the water then the man asked if we wanted to see the light bulb. Um duh I do so Mark and I crawl up this little latter and see the massive spinney thing that rotates and a tiny light bulb around tons of mirrors. I figured it would have been a huge light bulb but sure wasn’t. Then Danielle, another Wright State grad turned Guinea volunteer turned Mali volunteer showed up to take a look at the city, so the three of us took tons of photos and then started to climb down back to the games.
A few eatery highlights of Dakar
-N’ice Cream: an amazing American style ice cream place that had 3 dozen different flavors
-Indiana: an Indian restaurant that made delicious authentic meals
-Magiadore: a little French/Seafood place that was pricy but so worth every bit of it
-Times Cafe: an American diner where you can order a club sandwich and mozzarella sticks
-Chez Lucia: a Portuguese place that served meals so large that it took three people to eat one plate
My softball team didn’t place so we were done early so we had some time to plan a vacation for a few days before we had to get back to Bamako for a wedding. A decent size group of us decided we wanted to go to Touba Djallo, a beach town about an hour from Dakar where the hotel rooms were cheap, the food was fresh, and the beach was stunning.
When we get out to the beach, everything was surprisingly good. Maybe I just have lower expectations after spending so much time in Africa but the people were nice, the food tasty and the hotel room was small, but nice (especially for the price). We spent three nights there and had an amazing time playing in the ocean, jumping in the reasonably tame waves and just hanging out.
Sadly it was time to go back to reality and vacation was over and the long and trying journey back to Mali started again. This time since everyone was going back at different times we didn’t rent an entire bus which means it takes longer. The bus was suppose to leave at 7 but didn’t end up leaving until after 9 and then around 3 in the morning a tire blew out. So there we are, about 14 volunteers and a bus load of Africans on the side of the road, in the middle of the night, in the middle of no where. We were stuck there until morning when someone could find a new tire for a bus once again in the middle of no where. We tried to sleep on the bus but couldn’t get comfortable, some tried to sleep outside but the passing cars were a little too scary. Six hours later a truck finally pulls up with our tire and shortly after we are back on the road. In its entirety it took us 40+ hours to get back to Bamako.
It was a long eventful week that was worth every Franc that I saved up while I Guinea. I had the time of my life, took some amazing photos and got tons of stories that I will remember for the rest of my life.
