Getting from one place to another

Traveling in Senegal something I have a feeling I will try many times during my time here to explain but never really succeed at doing it justice. To wax philosophic for a minute, traveling seems to represent so much of Senegal: sticking to traditions, using "Western methods" (with a Senegalese touch),being in no hurry at all, and a little bit of luck or "God wishing" things to happen.

To get to Thies today for Erin's birthday lunch I took an Alham from Bambey. The garage in Bambey is relatively quiet with Alhams mostly going to Dakar and very rarely heading to Diourbel in the other direction. When I got to the garage I walked through the crowds for men around my age asking me where I was going until I got to the back of the Mitsubishi bus everyone was loading into. Finally, when I was in line to get on the bus I told the group of men who looked like they worked there in some connection that I was going to Thies. For the first time I was quoted the right price (usually I pay 200CFA more) and the guy was very nice and quickly ushered me on the bus and directed me to a seat. The insides of Alhams are usually about 7-10 rows of 5 seats across (two benches that seat 2 people with a fold down seat in the middle). The back has seats going sideways that often fit 4 people on each seat but today I was lucky and the sideways seat (give to me) was just for 1 person. Whether there is room or not Senegalese women use their djufunday's (a marker of beauty in Senegal aka large rear-ends) to cram themselves into the seat. Though I have kind of a white-girl-djufunday, I usually end up like Senegalese men do - squashed against the side wall or between two women. Today, however, I had the whole seat to myself and there was even a window. The buses sometimes even decorated - today's had purple fabric hanging from the ceiling and speakers in the back blasting Senegalese music that, over the engine you could barely make out the drumming.

I was the last one on and we were off, about 35 of us crammed into a bus. On the back of the bus, through the door we all got in, there are a few appretices, or guys who ride on and who are responsible for the passengers. They usually hang off the back, occasionally coming inside if there are seats, but at the beginning of the ride one appretice steps in the car and begins saying "pass! pass!" and each person hands their money to him. If he doesn't know where you're going he asks and then gives you your change. I find this part to be another amazing part of travel: because the bus is so crowded and no aisle exists he just keeps going from person to person, everyone knows when he's getting to them, and everyone passes their money back - no one tries to cheat the system. Bills get handed back to him and change gets handed forward usually without people even turning around.

Another thing about travel that amazes me is how everyone looks. I usually travel looking crappy, cars are hot, you're sitting cramped, and you can only guess at how long it will take - for these reasons I almost always wear capris and a tank top or cotton t-shirt. Everyone else, however, is usually dressed up to the nines. All of the women are in full traditional Senegalese wear with headwraps and make-up. The men are always in full basin bou-bous with the younger men and women in nice Western clothes or Senegalese clothes. Even the kids are dressed up with their hair done and everyone sits patiently just waiting for their stop.

Sometimes an appretice will stick his head in the bus and yell what town we're approaching other times he'll just bang on the side of the car and the driver will pull over to the side of the road to let people off or on without asking. As people get off someone crawls to the top of the car and bags are handed down then handed back up as more people load on. Unlike in the US where people would (or so I believe) try to sit closer to doors as their stop gets closer, everyone stays seated until it's their stop then we all patiently wait while half the bus re-shifts position for one person to get out.

Usually by the time we're getting close to Thies an appretice sticks there head in and asks where I'm getting out (when there's only one white person in the car it's easy to remember where they're going, so I'm guessing). Eventually the car stops (if I'm sitting far in the crowd) or just slows down (like today) and I jump out the back and am on my way.

Traveling back to Bambey from Thies is always a little bit crazier, I like to think because people are tired and just want to get home. No matter, though, everyone (except me) still maintains their appearance and looks great. (Part of this must have to do with the fact it's the "cold" season now - though I don't feel it) The Thies garage is no where near as calm as the Bambey garage with people hassling the entire way to the Bambey section - each route has their own section so it's easy to ignore people until I'm in the right place. This evening when I got on the bus there were about 8 open seats which filled pretty quickly and we were off again. This time, however, I was crammed between two Senegalese women for most of the ride.

About halfway between Thies and Bambey the car stopped and almost everyone got off - those of us going to Bambey were told to stay. Then there was a change of plans and we were all told to get off and get on another bus (this happens regularly). Luckily the second bus was an actual bus (like the kind I take to Dakar) and I got 2 seats to myself. Coming with me to the new bus were a mother and her daughter, a guy in his 20s, and two kids that were going to Bambey for the first time and had no idea what was going on (it was amazing not to be the least-knowledgeable person in the room/bus). While we waited for the second bus to get moving (the appretices of the different buses had to work out who had come over and what they owed them) the mother and guy asked what I was doing and we had a nice conversation in Wolof. When they asked my name and I gave them, like normal, my Senegalese name, the mother even asked my real name (and they both knew Peace Corps so it was great). Finally we were off and I got back to Bambey and home just before dark.

I'm sure when I have to go longer distances it will be miserable and I won't see the beauty in travel that I see now. But, when it's just for small trips and I can amuse myself with the situation. The daydreamer in me even likes to imagine a movie zoom-out from the top of the bus - all of the women with headdresses and weaves and me, the one white person squashed between two djufundays*.


Ba Suba,
KO

*Don't think I'm being rude about djufunday's, Senegalese women pride themselves on them. My hfmom often tells me that if I don't eat more I won't get a djufunday (because here, not having one, is a bad thing).