Arrival in Dakar

I arrived in Dakar last night at around 9pm. Everything went rather smoothly, customs, etc though I was lucky to have a distinct bright red suitcase, as the luggage from all the flights arriving to Leopold Sedar Senghor Int'l Airport were placed on the airport's one conveyor belt. I took my bag before it could be accidentally taken by passengers from the flight coming in from Casablanca and headed to the exit but not before passing a final security checkpoint, where I was told by an official that I could cut the line in exchange for a few coins. I didn't have any so I told him so, and he assured me that bills were acceptable too, even Euros. I finally exited the terminal, fought my way through the crowd, and found my ride (my host father).

My host father brought me home, to a quartier slightly north of Dakar's city-centre called Cambérène. On the ride from the airport we had an interesting discussion, in which he told me of a few Senegalese values: family, religion, "le marchandage" (selling/bargaining) and flirting.

Religion is very important here, and people are very observant, praying 5 times a day. 95 percent of the population is Muslim and there are mosques every few blocks. The other 5 percent are either Christian or Animist. Regardless, they are very superstitious, and wear and adorn their belongings with talismans. At a stop light he popped off the steering wheel of the car to show me the crumpled up pieces of paper with phrases from the Koran attached with a string that he keeps there. Because of it, he's never had a car accident. I guess its the Senegalese version of car insurance.

As for family, many Senegalese men have several wifes. By law, they are allowed to have up to four. My host father has only one, but he dabbled in the several wifes deal and decided it just wasn't for him. He's been married 12 years (he is 32) but for 5 weeks he decided to take on a second wife, and the first wife expressed her sincere disapproval, saying he could do whatever he wanted except that, and so there was the end of wife numero dos.

When we arrived at home, his wife brought us dinner. Meals are eaten sitting or kneeling on the ground, shoes off, from a communal dish and ONLY with the right hand. The left hand is for other things, namely bathroom stuff (yes, I did indeed try to use my left hand, and yes, I was looked at with disgust and then scolded) I ate until my stomach practically exploded, to be polite of course, but I still hadn't eaten enough. "Maya, mange" was repeated probably about a dozen times in the span of 10 minutes. But listen, it was all for my benefit! "Ici, on aime les femmes avec de grosses fesses, et de bonnes cuisses" Basically in translation he told me that in Senegal they liked women with big butts and thick thighs, and not to worry because he was going to feed me exactlywhat I needed for that. Splendid. Check back later for progress on my booty!

After dinner, I went to bed, but not before securing my mosquito bed-net. In fetal position, and with nothing but my sticky self, I drifted off to sleep.