Part the Second of My Casamance Adventure.

I know you’ve all been waiting in eager anticipation for my next blog post, and so, one week of Wolof tests, French exposés, broken computers and Senegalese rappers later, here it is.

I’ll begin with a summary of the couple of days proceeding my last post, but by necessity will will follow up with a photographic voyage that will carry you through the green jungles and vast rice paddies of the Casamance countryside just until the charming Diola village of Diembering – in order to avoid doing any injustice to the incredible sights and sounds of the day, which surely would be the result were I to try translating them into mere words.

Our short stint in Ziguinchor was characterized by a sweaty Baay Fall asking for sugar, an incomprehensible Mauritanian shopkeeper, ataya with soccer players who we never actually saw, and a revolutionary new dulce de leche ice cream. A single night at our petit campement saw us off bright and early to find a sept-place taxi that would transport us to Cap Skirring.

The first day at Cap was wonderfully slow, but hence not much to write home about. Therefore, let’s fast-forward to Day 2.

Inspired by a rusty advertisement on the road to the beach and Alex’s prominent cycling history, we voted unanimously to rent mountain bikes and take a tour to Djiemebering, a neighboring village. A heavy rain during the night left ravines and potholes in the rustic dirt roads, lined by lush forests and expansive rice paddies. The road slowly narrowed into a less traveled foot path, but on and on we persevered, mesmerized by the intense beauty that surrounded us in the form of giant fromagiers, droves of birds singing and flitting between the masses of hanging nests, and incomparably dense verdure. Breathtaking.

After a few detours, we finally made our way to Djiembering. Almost immediately following our arrival we were met by an exceptionally friendly Djiolan who informed us that A) Being outside of Wolof territory, "Casu May" was the new greeting of choice; B) Today happened to be an annual regional lutte festival; and C) He happened to be quite free - would we like him to show us around?

Our new friend Sembe did indeed give us the grand tour of the town, introducing us to its inhabititants, offering wives to Alex and Warren, recounting the myths and traditions of the village and providing cultural descriptions (and demonstrations) with musical stops along the way. (Turns out he's Djiembering's resident musician.)

Needless to say, we soon discovered a single morning would not be enough, and after an excitement-packed day we were reluctant to say our goodbyes. However the sun his descent, so we set out along the beach to finish our day against the backdrop of a beautiful horizon.

 

Travel Guide: Ile de Gorée

Take a little break from la vie quotidienne and make a stop at the historic Ile de Gorée.

Located a little more than a mile off the coast of Dakar, l'Ile de Gorée made its grim name as the first European settlement in Africa, paving the way for what would become a massive Atlantic slave trade. Occupied at various times by the Dutch, the Portuguese and the French, the island is also known as La Maison des Esclaves (the House of Slaves) and is a sobering reminder of the gross barbarity perpetrated throughout so much of the world.

However, rather than dwell constantly in what history can not undo, Senegal has turned the ancient horror into a colorful, bustling island town. Remnants of colonial structures  juxtapose their brightly washed walls next to more traditional thatched-roof houses as artists sell their handmade goods and children play soccer on the beach.

Museums scatter l'Ile de Gorée, and despite their rather decrepit, disorganized state, (often in the Women's Museum, you would not be informed on what you were looking at until two exhibits later, and the preservation techniques were quite wanting,) each museum - the Woman's Museum, the Slave Museum, and a general anthropological exhibit of the evolution and migration of the Senegalese - offered an intriguing range of the histories of Senegal's peoples.

A visit to one of Senegal's oldest mosques was in call, a worthy stop despite its rather unassuming state. If the sun's not too scalding and your burn's not too excrutiating, take a hike up the small hill at the end of the island for some spectacular views of Dakar and some peaceful breathing away from the hyper-heckling vendors. (They are the only downside to this otherwise serene getaway - imagine a woman stalking you for half the length of the island before tugging at your clothing to get you to come buy from her, and dramatically proclaiming that if you don't, she'll be forced to throw herself in the water, and her children will fall in to poverty with only a fourteen year-old sister to look after them. True story.)

Once you've finished your hillside climb, come back down and splurge 50¢ - you deserve it! - on a succulent mango dripping in fresh lime juice. Take it over to the water side and savor the goût while the cool waves wash gently over your hot, tired feet.