For spring break, I planned to spend the week in the Gambia with all of the students in my program, but I learned quickly that life doesn’t follow plans and it’s best to just go with it.
I left Dakar with five other students, one of whom brought a Senegalese friend to help accompany us through our travels. This friend, Mame Cheikh, was super helpful and willing to answer all of the questions I had about his culture. He even invited me and my friend Georgia to a festival/pilgrimage in honor of my Senegalese namesake. We got to the Gambian border just before it closed, but got held up during the visa process because two of our friends come from African countries and needed extra papers. By the time we could think and decide what to do, we missed the last boat. We met up with Mame Cheikh’s Gambian friend and spent the night at a hotel at the border. The next morning we learned that we could get the extra papers the following day, but the two students didn’t want to wait an extra day at the border so, sadly, they returned to Dakar with Mame Cheikh and we continued on to our hotel with Samba, the Gambian friend.
He drove us in his open back safari truck, blasting reggae music and driving through typically ‘African’ looking scenery. We made it to the river just after the 11am ferry had left, so someone jokingly suggested that we visit an island Samba mentioned earlier. No one contested so we made the split decision to catch the 4pm ferry (giving ourselves enough time to make the 5 or 6pm at the rate things were going), turned around, and headed to Coconut Island. After lots of off-roading and a little pirogue ride, we were greeted at Coconut Island by hordes of children that wanted to hold our hands. We met Samba’s friends, then trekked to the remote beach and sat in the shade. The four of us girls put our toes in the water and it was so beautiful that we were all the way in just a few minutes later. The water was a refreshing contrast to the heat, and the beach was entirely empty and relaxing. After a while, we headed back and decided to take the pirogues, which meant that we were carried from the shore to the boats (no docks) on some Gambian men’s shoulders, bags and all.
From that point, we made it to the hotel without problems. The hotel was had great food, an ecopool, a bonfire, and lots of relaxation, so it came as a surprise to many when my friend Georgia and I decided to leave after two days. We left for the festival at Porokhane, the hometown of my Senegalese namesake, Mame Diarra Bousso, mother of the most revered marabout in Senegal and founder of the Mouride movement. We arrived after 1am, found our tent, and went straight to bed.
The next day we got up for breakfast and found the medical tent, where we would be working with Mame Cheikh and his doctor friend, distributing medicine for free after a consultation with the doctor. Most of the patients needed simple things like Vitamin C or painkillers, and it was a good chance to practice Wolof with them. My job was to ask their name (Nanga tudd?), their age (Nyata at nga am?) and then write down their symptoms and treatment after they talked to the doctor. Although we stayed in the medical tent all day, we were hot, starving, and exhausted by the time the line dwindled down to a couple people and we were able to eat lunch after 3pm. At night we took time to walk around the festival. There were markets and a mosque, but way too many people to thoroughly visit either. After dinner and chatting, it was impossible to stay awake through our exhaustion but impossible to sleep through the drumming and chanting that was happening just outside the tent. I spent the whole night in and out of sleep, venturing to watch the circle of dancing or sitting just inside the tent with the flap open to catch peeks of the people passing by, dressed in their crazy outfits, accessories, and dreads.
In the morning we packed up and left the festival, spending a few days seeing other cities in Senegal. Following Mame Cheikh’s plans, we spent a night in Touba and a night in Thies before returning to Dakar. Although spring break went way off track, it was better than any experience I could have planned.
