We got dropped back off at the village the following afternoon. We had some tea as we waited for a bus or cab to pass by. As it became increasingly clear that no bus or cab would be coming we were forced to negotiate with the second biggest penis in Senegal. It was the most one-sided negotiation I have had here. We tried every trick short of begging. We walked away, acted angry, acted reasonable, and he did not budge at all from his price. I didn’t feel like spending a night in the middle of carajoland so we grudgingly paid to several times the normal price to ride a car that was being repaired as we negotiated.
Tourism is a major industry in Senegal. Even though it is the rainy season (and therefore low season for tourism) the country is overrun by white people. Teranga is the Wolof term for the traditional value of hospitality. Seemingly everyone here prides themselves in their country’s hospitality. Umm, I am sorry to inform them but their country can be downright hostile to tourists. I am cynical about the whole idea of “welcoming” cultures as mere marketing. Maybe Senegal is as kind to strangers as they say it is, and we just got caught on a bad day or in a bad region or dealing with a bad bunch of Senegalese, but I doubt it. I guess it could be worse, like they could have kidnapped us for ransom, but it could have also been better.
Back in Kebemer we got mobbed as soon as we got out of the car. We asked for a car to Dakar and started getting quoted ridiculous prices ($40, $50, $60 when the price getting there was $6). Then at one point I negotiated with this guy who didn’t even have a car. Often people here will make deal with clients and then cut a cheaper deal with the real driver or vendor, so it isn’t weird to see someone negotiate on someone else’s behalf. But who was this guy negotiating on behalf of? We were lucky to run into another group of toubabs, four French university students who were traveling around Senegal. The problem then was that we were eight foreigners and the cars are only supposed to fit seven. The drivers wanted more money so that they could bribe the police in case they stopped. We in turn argued that we would bribe the police if there were any problems and insisted on a lower price (that the police could be bribed was taken for granted). So we overpaid and got in a sept-place to Dakar, or so I thought until we got dropped off in Thies. We were again forced to deal with the same harassment, ridiculous prices and general confusion in Thies. So after overpaying a third time we were finally on our way to Dakar. Once in the city I got off near my house and Caitlin and I performed our fifth and final round of transportation negotiation. My odyssey was over shortly thereafter, but Caitlin had to deal with even more shit before getting home. The cab driver—as they tend to do here—lied about knowing where he was going and when Caitlin attempted to direct him he got angry because he thought that they were going further than agreed to. Then it just gets bizarre. Fearing that Cailtin wouldn’t pay, the cabdriver grabbed her bag and wouldn’t let go until a random stranger intervened. Even then she didn’t get dropped off at home. Now I know that I can never let a woman go home alone in this city. I had a great time in Lompoul, and the ride in retrospect was not as bad as it could have been. Looking at the events positively, at least we did get home (didn’t have to spend the night in some way-out-there village), we had the money, the roads were decent, the cars didn’t break down, etc. It could have been worse, but it was also the first time in three months here when I questioned whether I really wanted to stay in Senegal for so long.
