Transport in Senegal

As middle class westerners, we are spoiled in so many ways. We once had a visitor at our home who commented what a luxury it was to have a car at your disposal, sitting outside your front door. Even in Mozambique we have one and usually when I travel someone is usually there to pick me up and take me where I need to go.

However, in my recent trip to Senegal things were a bit different. I was making a cold call and since I had no clue where I was going, I did not want to rent a car. One friendly guy gave me advice on where the ATM was at the airport, and what phone card to buy, but after that I was on my own.

If you have every exited the doors of a airport in the developing world, you will know that you are often besieged by 3-10 people vying for your attention, offering you services and thinking about how much of your money they can get before you realize you have been taken for a “ride.” As I exited the Leopold airport, I was met by at least two taxi drivers. I selected one, but then ask him to wait while I used the ATM. He obliged.

As I began to discuss the price for the taxi with the person I had selected, there were two other people hovering around listening to the conversation and when I asked how much to the intercity bus station, they all agreed that it was deep into the city of Dakar and expensive to get there. So I agreed to the price of 10,000 CFA or $20. As we head out to the car, these two tag along. When we arrive, they all jump in and say, "let’s go." (That should have been my first clue, plus I realize this is not even an official taxi.) I felt a bit uncomfortable, but got in and we took off, nearly clipping the rear end of the car ahead of us. Then off we go, racing through the streets of Dakar.

As we approach the intercity transport station, the one who speaks English starts asking for a tip, for all they have done for me. Besides he says, he will also take care of the intercity ticket with money that I provide to him. When I offer 1,000 extra he frowns like I am cheating him out of his milk for breakfast, but by then I have figured out these guys are running a racket. Sure enough, later I find out that he charged me extra for the intercity transport.

Public transport between cities in Senegal takes 3 major forms, 40-50 year old tin cans with windows and wheels, larger modern buses or the 7 plus taxi.


The 7 seaters are old Renault station wagons built for 5 that have had an extra jump seat built into the cargo hold. With 7 plus the driver, it is tight! On this particular leg, I am in the front. No worries! However, the 1 hour expected trip to Thies takes 2 hours due to traffic. It costs me a 3,000, so now I know I really overpaid for the 15 minute taxi ride in Dakar.

The next day, I get to ride in another 7 plus for an hour and find out that the fee really should be around 1,500 for such services. The real stretch comes after waiting an hour for the car to fill up on the trip to Saint-Louis where the driver does not want to push his car faster than 70 km per hour. I am in the middle seat and can’t wait to get out once we stop.


From there I meet Mr. Aziz, my appointed guide and his young friend Mamadou, our interpreter. We take another friend’s taxi for 45 minutes to Ross-Bethio and pay 7,000. Since he won’t let me pay directly, then later writes me a receipt, I assume I paid for his transport to come pick me up in Saint-Louis. I am ok with that since he was doing this all for me.

From Ross-Bethio back to St-Louis, there is no 7 plus station, so we flag down a tin can on wheels. It will get you there, they said, it is just slower, so I climb into the back of the bus. Here I am met by about 8 people and about 2 tons of watermelon. They have sectioned off the bus right behind the driver and filled the middle with melons.


Muslim music blaring (it is Friday afternoon after all) we drive off down the road, stopping whenever anyone raises their hand to get on or off. At one point the back of the bus is packed with about 8 women, seemingly headed for a wedding, everyone dressed to the hilt, African style.


This trip is nearly 3 times as long as the one out, but the consolation is that it only cost 500 CFA or $1. However, at the end we are unceremoniously dumped into the street by the driver who says, “OK, everybody out!” Clueless as to where my hotel is, I am forced to get a taxi who drives me a dozen blocks and has no receipts. So how does a guy turn in an expense report anyhow?

The next morning when we arrive at the 7 plus station, good news, I complete the carload and we are ready to go. The bad news, I am in the back jump seat, up against the right rear wheel well, and my foot, then leg on that side goes to sleep within 20 minutes. I must be really smashing a nerve. I am surprised it is only one side as I am pinned so tightly against the guy next to me and he against the plus size woman next to him, that both hips start to hurt. By squirming around enough to get my hip bone even with the wheel well, I get relief for the nerve, but not anything else. The other good news is that this guy is driving like crazy and gets the trip over within 2.5 hours, without killing anyone.


That ought to be enough adventure for now, all I have to do is get back to the airport from Thies to catch my plane on time. Piece of cake! Hmm?

Rwanda

Rwanda - a land I've heard a lot about and have now experienced. My first impressions were - it's so clean! I haven't known any African cities that are this clean. I didn't see a bit of trash on the street anywhere. Everyone is issued three large bags per week - one for rubbish, one for recycling and one for food waste. Plastic bags are not used in the country. I wonder if this could work in Maputo?


The Congo microfinance board that Steve is on decided to have a board meeting and retreat in Rwanda across the lake and border from Goma. They chose a beautiful place to meet in Kibuye at Bethanie Center right on Lake Kivu.














Notice the active volcanos in Congo across the lake.

These men had some entertaining conversations at mealtimes, mostly about sports and politics.

When we passed St Jean's Catholic Church close to Bethanie, someone mentioned that there had been a massacre there during the genocide. I looked it up online and found out that 2,000 Tutsi people had run there for safety. Later they were all killed inside the church.



Much later the church was rehabilitated with new stained glass windows and this memorial center was built. You can see some skulls inside under a sign that says "Never Again" and they have two mass graves in the front.













They happened to be having a Maundy Thursday service with a beautiful children's choir singing.



I also learned online that there was another massacre of 10,000 people in Kibuye at the town stadium. People were encouraged to run there by the government and others. They were locked in without food and water for three days. Then they were killed with machine guns and grenades. To be in such a beautiful place and realize the horrors that happened there 18 years ago left me wondering how people could be so filled with evil toward their own neighbors and friends.

When I returned home I re-read Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza and was surprised to find that her story is set in Kibuye Province, where we were. The only way she survived was because a pastor hid her and 7 others in a tiny bathroom in his house. They were there for three months until the French army came and set up some places of refuge. It is an inspiring story because of her faith and the way God rescued her many times and her determination to not let bitterness take over her soul but to forgive. It is also a story of the horrible things that happened in Rwanda.

The beginning of the genocide happened on April 7, 1994. Every year the country has national days of mourning April 7-8. We were back in Kigali by then and told to keep a low profile, so we spent the day reading and resting at a WR guesthouse. The 8th was our 34th anniversary and also Easter. I wasn't sure if there would be much joyful singing in church, but the worship service was well done, celebrating Christ's death and resurrection and also reflecting on what happened. Because of Jesus' example of "Father forgive them for they know not what they do" we can also forgive. "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." Rwandans have a lot to forgive and work through as every family has been affected in some way.

Burundi

Last week I had the privilege of joining Steve in Burundi which is a small country in East Africa. It is bordered on part of the west side by Lake Tanganyika. Bujumbura is the capital of around 1 million people and also right on the lake. It is a developing, sprawling city. I was surprised to see how many dirt roads there were right off the main highways.


Lake Tanganyika. It doesn't look too big here, but it is one of the Great Lakes of Africa.


While Steve was busy with micro-finance board meetings I spent a day at WR offices. I shared a devotional with them and then spent some time with their new Church Mobilization person. It was good to compare notes and share resources and encouragement. The WR office has had some tough challenges but they continue to move forward.

A couple of days we traveled to a small city 3 hrs away, Makambe. The mountains and scenery were beautiful and reminded me of Puerto Rico. A small camera shooting out of a car window does not do justice to the beauty we saw but perhaps you can imagine it.


We stayed at a U.N. Guesthouse since WR is working with UNHCR, providing roofing and other materials to refugees. When I logged on to FB from there I was notified that I had logged on from Geneva!

They also have a small agricultural program which Steve helped them with. We met this group of young men who have formed an association and are growing tomatoes. To get to their field we trekked through a palm forest and forded a small stream. Their customers come to the field to buy and they haul some of the tomatoes out. It was great to see young men working as in Moz most of the men have gone to S Africa to work in the mines.


Steve training the ag staff in the office:



We were amazed to find a boy wearing a Notre Dame shirt out in the middle of nowhere.


These women work with the child survival program and have started kitchen gardens at their homes. This may look like weeds to you (pig weed) but it is actually amaranth and a green eaten often by the Burundians.