Le Retour

“Allahu-Ackbar” rings over the loudspeaker through the muggy stagnant air. A sound that had become so blended into daily life is once again new and foreign. The same goes for many of the other sounds, sights and smells all around me. Riding in the taxi from the airport in the early dawn hours with the ocean breeze sweeping across the highway and in through the window, I was struck by how much I had forgotten about Senegal. My memory had become nothing more than an abridged version of this place, a bullet point summary leaving out so much.

Well, the holes are starting to be filled in. Sipping strong sugary tea by candlelight. Getting juice all over myself while devouring a perfectly ripe mango. Watching the sun set as the ocean runs its fingers over rocks so wet they’re black, so smooth they shine like opals. Hopping a car rapide at dusk as the temperature finally starts to drop and the wind rushes through its open windows.  Hearing the frantic drumming of mbalax music around every corner and in every boutique. So many things have stayed constant over the past two years, but there are many changes as well. New construction has taken over many of the open areas in Ouakam. There are newly paved roads, widened to accommodate the increase in cars. Many of the hotels and statues perpetually under construction are finally finished. Power outages have become more frequent; with the electricity now out for the majority of each day. There’s a new wall in front of my family’s home as well as a boutique in their previously empty garage. And all the babies I knew back then are now walking forces of destruction. 

But the fundamentals of Senegal, as I remember it, remain. Crazy traffic with taxis that, against all laws of physics, continue to function. Brightly painted car rapides packed with people swerving into oncoming traffic to pass wood chariots pulled by horses. Heat and sand, trash and exhaust, but also community and family, religion and respect. It feels good to be home, to see the family I haven’t seen in years, to be reassured all this really happened, to know it goes on without me but yet I am still a part of it. 

(My host mother after prayers)