To ToubaKouta and back again

I love mornings in Senegal. Admittedly, I love mornings everywhere, but each day I wake up in Dakar to a breeze blowing over me through my window. When I look out, I get a view of an entire neighborhood of flat rooftops, covered in cracked white paint, overflowing with orange flowers and back-lit by the sunrise.
I jump into a refreshingly cold shower and go downstairs to a cup of tea before beginning my walk to school. I usually choose the route of the Corniche, the road that borders the coast of the ocean, to get to school (who wouldn't??).
So last Friday I set out for my stroll a couple hours earlier than usual to leave for ToubaKouta, and got to see the pre-sunrise view of the ocean. This was followed by many hours in the van, fully supplied with fruit and croissants. I knew I was in for a spoiled weekend-which it was. But the best parts were not necessarily the pool or the free toilet paper or even the adorable individual stone huts, connected by paths of seashells, that formed our little oasis.

The first village we visited was the site of a boarding school, where we were able to talk with the community (through Waly's translations between French and Wolof) about the place of education in the community. This particular community had very positive views of formal education, which is probably the reason we visited that village in particular, as I found out later that formal education is not, for the most part, seen in a positive light in rural communities of Senegal. Perhaps it's the addition of the fact that I'm reading Anna Karenina (and falling in love with it) at the moment, but I find it very easy to sympathize with the idea that work on the land and time at Koranic school is more important than a formal education, even if, deep down, I remain convinced of the positive impact of formal education-and really the need for it, when long-term needs are looked at.


The library at the boarding school

We visited a few villages with health centers, all of which varied greatly, and one community with a group of women who worked in a micro-financed farming co-operative.

The village on the way to the mangroves

Aside from the villages, I was able to spend a day riding a boat through mangroves. Boat time, as always, was terrific fun, and the mangroves and birds were incredible. They would have made for the most beautiful pictures yet. But this is where I think Life is trying to send me a message; my camera died just before getting on the boat. The same thing happened in Cambodia as I got to my favorite wat, where enormous trees were crawling over and through the man-made architecture. Maybe these are just the types of things I need to take in in the moment. I'm reminded of a girl I once met at a music festival, who was commissioned to take photos there, who (ironically) reminded me not to take photos when I should be enjoying myself.
Still, of course, it would be a shame to have no record at all of these things, and luckily I do have some.





I am really, truly determined to find a way to go fishing while in Senegal.