Dakar, Senegal

We docked this morning in what looked like a modern city and Dale got to see more of the new and modern on his excursion.

Here’s Dale and his good friend, Henry, contemplating the day.

My excursion was quite different from Dale’s and went out of the city to the more rural area around Lake Retba. We saw lots of contrasts as we drove and when we had a rest stop at a resort. Dale said the same was true in the city — the very rich and the very poor clearly in evidence.

Oh, I forgot to say that all my pictures from the bus window today will reflect the Dakar experience “clearly” as the windows were almost impossible to see through and when I asked if they could be cleaned I was told that was not possible.

The resort sat on the edge of the sand dunes. We changed from the bus into 4×4 vehicles here and proceeded out to the ocean and on to the lake by the roughest ride I have ever taken; and you know I do a lot of rough riding!

All along our route we had seen partially constructed buildings and villages that didn’t appear to be inhabited but when we got to the Fulani village we were to visit people seemed to appear out of nowhere and it clearly wasn’t vacant. We were told that it takes a long time to afford to build a house so the people do it gradually, living in it as they go or living in a more traditional shelter in the meantime.

The village headmaster escorted us around his village and the people were all friendly and welcoming because they knew that this group of foreigners had paid them for the privilege of the visit and would also purchase some of their art work.

Of all the places we have been on this trip this village was the saddest for me. There were so many children (each family has 7 or 8, we were told, down from the 12 or 13 in less recent times) and each one of them have almost no hope of escaping the poverty and the oppressive religion of their village. They were beautiful children in colorful clothing, appearing happy and working alongside their mothers and this is what I want to show you

but their plight seemed to be represented in the look on these women’s faces.

How I wished I could have sat down with them and had a long talk! They are going to stick in my mind and my prayers.

The village had a lot going for it in that it was organized and had some rudimentary facilities but the education provided there and the deep cultural and religious practices seem to be a trap that keeps them from ever getting out.

We watched a different method of fishing in the ocean and then went to the lake where people endure terrible conditions to mine the salt. They have to cover themselves in a particular oil or they couldn’t even stay in the water (on the stilts in the boat) for the 3 hour shift that they do. The salt is exported for commercial uses, not table salt.

Since it was Sunday very few people were working so after viewing the saltworks briefly we headed to another side of the lake where the tour description had promised the opportunity to float in this saltier-than-the Dead-Sea water. Many people had worn their swim suits but when we saw the “beach” we were horrified and only 5 brave, or foolish, people actually went in. The absolutely worst part of it to me was the “shower” that was to have washed off the salt water. Check out the man preparing the “shower”.

And here is the shower! (I have seriously been praying that none of those people have adverse effects from this adventure.)

This picture of their “water lapa” is for you, Martin.

We finished our tour with a walk through the colorful local market and on the way back I got my only picture of the national tree of Senegal, the baobab, and my ever important picture of a fruit stand.