Friendliness

Before I set out on this trip, my copy of Lonely Planet informed me that the Senegalese like to make much of their culture of teranga or 'hospitality'. This I found to be true - when I thanked people for being welcoming, the response was often 'it's the Senegalese way', or 'that's teranga'.

Nor is it misplaced pride. I owe a great deal to the friendliness of the Senegalese. The best example, perhaps, of this is my encounter with Souleymane Diatta, a young maths teacher I met on the long journey down from Dakar to Ziguinchor in the south.. As we stood on the interminably slow ferry across the River Gambia, I took Souleymane's phone number and promised I would call should I pass through the village of Oussouye, where he lived and taught.

A few days later, I did indeed arrive in Oussouye, planning on a brief stay before moving on to Cap Skiring for its famous beaches. I phoned Souleymane to say hello, and I'm glad I did. By the time I left Oussouye, I had met a king, discussed health policy with the district's sole doctor and participated in an English lesson at the local lycée, all thanks to Souleymane (and his cousins). I shared meals with his family and spent evenings sitting by the side of the road chatting and drinking thé senegalais.

To benefit from this kind of hospitality, though, requires two things - decent French, without which a decent conversation is hard, and an open attitude, without which such a conversation is impossible. The first, you either have or don't have. The second is more complicated, because not every seemingly friendly approach is well meant. It is easy to become exhausted by the touts, the prospective guides and straight-up scam merchants. Others want you to help them with European visas. Friendliness is so often tinged with commercial interest that it becomes easy to doubt everyone's motives. In Bamako I met a Californian couple, Toby and Karma,  who had been travelling through western Africa for about the same length of time as I had. Lacking workable French and travelling as a pair, they had shrunk into themselves, talking only only to expats and the occasional Anglophone traveller (a rare breed - Toby and Karma are the only native English speakers I have met so far). Clearly friendly people, they had been worn down by constant hassle (often it can seem that the only locals who speak any English are touts).

I have sometimes found myself doing the same thing. In Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, where I am now, I've taken to avoiding certain areas because of the hassle. Maybe it's just that I'm a little tired after seven weeks on the road, but I've found that the much-vaunted friendliness of the Burkinabé has manifested itself predominantly in the persistence of its salesmen. Travelling alone, however, means insulating yourself quickly becomes boring. Furthermore, hassle quickly evaporates as you get further from the main tourist strips. Solitude has its limits and starved of conversation, I usually now welcome someone sitting down next to me, extending a hand and saying 'ça va?'.

Bamako

I had meant to start this blog a long time ago, chronicling my movements through West Africa. Seven weeks in, it hasn't really worked out like that. Instead, I'm going to try to do a series of posts reflecting on different things I've seen; it won't always be current or even chronological, but hopefully some of it will give an idea of what I've been up to. Check out the sidebar for photos and a rough map of where I've been. You can click through to both.


I had been told I would like Bamako, and so it proved. It is my favourite capital so far (having only Dakar to compare it to, that isn't hard). Even before I arrived, Bamako appealed to me - coming in from the north, the city lacks Dakar's urban sprawl, instead popping up out of the trees at the last minute. The main streets are broad and open, and the city has numerous green spaces (the garden of the national museum is lovely) - somewhat like London, except that instead of squirrels climbing the trees, you have purple lizards with orange heads.

The city is renowned for its live music, and the week I was there Bamako was holding a jazz festival, sponsored by the Centre Culturel Français (these can be found in almost every Francophone capital). I saw concerts in bars, in gardens and concert halls, from artist throughout the region and from Europe. I want to expand more on music in another post, but suffice it to say that Bamako largely lived up to the hype.

I had a chance to discuss health research policy at the city's main hospital, and met my first native English speakers of the trip (Americans).


The people, too, are great. In Senegal I became accustomed to an aggressive style from those who wished to sell you something - in Bamako, apparently no actually means no! Such a relief after the more touristy areas of Senegal.
I stayed in the Catholic Mission - clean, cheap and no evangelism. One of the sisters, Sister Jan, was an English teacher at a local school, and I went along to observe an English lesson, which was an odd combination of interesting (the kids) and dull (a two hour grammar lesson). Sister Jan's disciplinary methods included making kids kneel in front of the blackboard in a manner scarily reminiscent of the stress positions used by the US Army in Iraq, but apart from that she was very nice!

It's not all great - it was punishingly hot and the air pollution is astonishingly dense on hot still afternoons (most pf them). Taxi drivers all seem to be on their first day on the job, and the city isn't cheap. Yet all in all I spent a very enjoyable week in the city.