Allez, les Lions!

It’s been a busy past few days, thus the delay in blog posts. My humblest apologies, and my most sincere promises to try to be more consistent from here on out, whether it be a short anecdote or a single photograph, something’s better than nothing! (Especially the photographs. I need to get on top of those. We are a visual culture, after all.)

Last Saturday, following a lazy morning and an “early” lunch of ceebu jën at 1:30, I slathered on the sunscreen, donned the straw hat that Herbertin was so eager to give me (“Il faut que tu te protèges contre le soleil! Prends-là!”), and joined the other toubabs in Ouakam on their way to the Sengal vs. the DRC soccer game. After a sweaty ride to school, we gathered with the rest of the fifty-five students and were shoved into two “private” car rapides like a bunch of sardines and shipped off to la Stade de Leopold Sedar Senghor.

 

Forcing our way through the throngs of sweaty people and overly-enthusiastic vendors of team Senegal gear, we made our way to the field. We had been previously warned that if we really wanted good seats, we needed to arrive fairly early, so we took this advice and arrived no less than three hours before the match began. (Admittedly, our seats were great. They had backs on them, a huge improvement from the majority of cement-slab-dubbed-seats.)

I was extremely curious as to what a Senegalese sporting event would serve for concessions, and our three-hour wait provided me with ample time to check out all the goods available. First up: Chicken sandwich. In place of hot dogs and hamburgers, little tables were set up with gas fires heating skillets of chicken, peppers, onions, and French fries that were then spread across a fresh baguette for a mere 1000 CFA, or about $2 USD. Peanuts compared to normal concession prices, and mighty tasty, too. The second snack of choice was a bag of petit madeleines, little butter cakes. (Think twinkies without the cream.) Female vendors kept passing us with huge trays full of frozen liquid-filled baggies, balanced precariously on their heads. The substance inside these baggies was a suspiciously cloudy substance, either yellowy or pinkish depending on which one you chose. Although I was wary of its contents, another girl bought the yellow one (it looked like the liquid egg mixture the school cafeteria uses) and I ventured a taste. I was relieved to discover it was basically a frozen vanilla pudding, although not quite as appetizing as the popcorn that I was by no means about to pass up a little later.

Fooding aside, though, the game began around seven. It was an exciting match, and the first live soccer game I’ve ever attended. I must admit, I looked pretty darn American in that great straw hat and the red bandana I was sporting, but I am fairly certain that my team spirit and top-notch cheering of “Allez, Lions!” could compete with any true Senegalese fan. From the first fanfare of the national anthem played by a military band to the final firework celebrating Senegal’s 2-0 victory, the sweaty, excited mob in la stade was an unceasing mass of adrenaline and clamor, giving undying support to their country. No one was a bad sport about the end, either; I even had a couple – albeit rather downcast-looking - Congolese fans offer me a congratulatory handshake at the end.

I kept careful watch over my purse on the exit and trudged through the dirty, delighted mob to find a taxi. Weary but happy from a successful evening, we Ouakamers finally drove off to the sounds of celebration filling the heavy night air.