Maa ngi tudd Gaberoo

A little over two moons ago I arrived on the African continent. I came with the hope of doing good things and saving the world. And even though I cannot really say I did so, I tried my best and in the end that is all we really can do.

However, one cannot be completely selfless forever. So I have packed my bags and am now on the road again, once again discovering what is hidden in obscure places around the globe.

This tale begins in Dakar, Senegal with the arrival of The Rafi (as he shall be called from this point on). I myself, of course, had already been completely accustomed to the Afican way of life, but it seemed like a good idea to give The Rafi a few days time before heading into the bush. Plus, my temporary Roommates had organized a Youssou N’Dour concert to fight Malaria (because moskitoes, in contrast to humans cannot stand Youssou N’Dour and he wrote special music to sing them out of Senegal once and for all – really!). In any case, we had super special VIP tickets and were invited to the pre-event cocktail party with a special secret screening of the new movie about Youssou. And people say life in Africa is though, pffff…

So, after a week-end of glamour, the suit and tie returned to the closet and we strapped on the hiking boots and started towards the Gambia, along a road slightly less travelled that would take us through the Sine-Saloum Delta just South of Dakar. Along with our backpacks and some supplies, we had picked up a stray traveller the day before at the Gambian embassy (call him Mr. John IV). The fierceless duo thus became a trio and so the story begins.

Our first stop brought us to a town called Joal, with an adjoining island known to most as Fadhiout. Somewhat on the tourist trail, the island is none the less worth a visit. If not for the houses built from bricks made out of seashells, there is an impressive footbridge leading into town, from which local kids will gladly jump into the water so that you can take a picture of an African child in the ocean, for a small fee of course, something that struck me as slightlzy bizarre but failed to impress most of the other Toubabs (White Person).

An egg sandwich later and slightly suffering from African Egg Blindness (itchy eyes that you get from eating an overly greasy egg sandwich in an extremely stuffy egg shack) we left the confines of paved roads and started driving through the Senegalese Savannah on the back of a pick-up truck. The trip lead us through a bunch of tiny villages, most of which got you thinking of the differences between our life back home and the hardships of growing up a few thousand kilometers away. People were dropped off in the middle of nowhere and others came abord, always with a friendly greeting the fellow travellers and occasionally the specific realization that there were strangers amoungst them who meritted a special Ahhh, Bonjour les Toubabs!.

Shortly after, we arrived at our first over-night stop in a town called Palmarin, a somewhat forgotten strip of Paradise on the beach. Bungalows 50 meters from the ocean with hardly a soul around that make you wonder why how people have a good time on the crowded beaches of Southern France.

There’s more to come, but time is up. Check back soon! G

A little while back, somewhere wedged in between dreaming about Senegalese HSS and quantifying the Cameroonian need for lube, I managed to hitch a ride out into the middle of nowhere, a.k.a. Louly Ngogom, with some of the Peace Corps chaps. We watched village wrestlers appease the gods, ate dinner with the village chief, climbed baobabs and ventured through the portal into Narnia. See things through my eyes…

Dakar on a breezy Saturday afternoon: marvelous. The gang just got back from the beach. We went out to buy boogie boards this morning and drove down to Virage to show off our skills. A rewarding alternative to surfing’s steep learning curve. I’m starting to get used to the city. It’s hard to believe I’ve already been in Africa for over two months. Time flies when you’re busy. “Work hard and party hard” is the motto – some people should take their own advice. It’s somewhat amusing to have a foot in two worlds that seem to exist side by side, and yet they don’t appear to be very compatible. Super successful consultants for dinner and a toothless photographer travelling from Berlin to Benin for desert. Must be the culinarily challenged American part of me that enjoys meshing and mixing (no offence to my loved ones in the USofA – cheese whiz might taste good but it most definitely isn’t a culinary master piece). Reminds me of Kevin’s eating habbits. It’s all about the mix, right? The view from our balcony is as stunning as always. T-5 days before Rafi gets here and then the great West African voyage begins. For now, only the Baobab gods know where the wind will take us.

A coffee shop in Dschang, somewhere in the western hills of Cameroon. A pleasant trade off from Nescafé and condensed milk. I have the feeling of being in Cuba, and yet I was never there. Rhythmic music and a bunch of middle-aged men in umatched suit pants and sportscoats having breakfast. I realize I have gotten used to being the odd one out. The caffeine is starting to take effect and I can feel my heavy eye lids getting lighter. I’ve been reminded of why I love to travel – you have my thanks. I wonder why a wanderer is always an attraction and assure myself that there is value in slow travel – he was wrong. I begin to ask myself if it’s possible to get along with everybody without sacrificing your own principles. The old men are sitting around gossiping. They seem content with what they have. Where are these old men back home? I wonder if I’m unknowingly searching for something. What would be worse: never finding it or never understanding what it is? I try to remember life back then, when there were no cell phones or internet and it was easy to hide. I think about the human butterfly effect – is life chaotic? Which would mean that at the same time it can be described by a set of rules. I start philosophizing and wonder why it seem bad things that happen to you have a stronger effect on your life than good things? Maybe it’s because they make you change the direction in which you are heading, rather than reinforce the path you’re currently on. The coffee grains start to appear at the bottom of my cup. A whirlwind frozen in time, a story of its own.