pix

I've been a bit slack lately so here are some pictures...

The first is of Goree Island, a few minutes on the ferry over from Dakar but seems like a million miles away. beautiful colonial buildings, bougainvillea, the beach... oh and a fairly sinister history as a jump off point for slaving ships. A really interesting place, with a monument to emancipation and an interesting museum (apparently - it's been too busy to get in both times I have been) and now a firm stop over on the Roots Tour. It was referred to the other night by the Minister of Something or Other in his speech at the Queen's Birthday Party at the British Embassy. Having accidentally managed to insult a couple of important people present (he was trying to give compliments, but they just didn't come out right, poor feller) he then made reference to being on British soil in the heart of Senegal, but of course, that's not the first time we British have been here, since we did have Goree for a bit and directed the slave trade from there... Anyway, God Save the Queen!

This next one is of some lads net fishing in Aberdeen Creek just outside of Freetown on the Sierra Leone Estuary. It might look a bit grey, but the creek is full of fish and attracts all sorts of waterbirds, but it's under threat from the encroaching growing city and planned projects for hotels and the like. Wonder what it will be like in a few years time...

i've put some new pictures up on my flickr account if you fancy procrastinating a bit before starting work...

Dakar

Here is Dakar on a sunny Sunday afternoon. There are about 3 million people squeezed in there somewhere...

The Green (?) Cape

Just back from a few days too many in Cape Verde. Not that I have anything against the place, but for all of 1 day I was cloistered in a conference so, frankly, I could have been anywhere in the world. I was able to identify that I was no longer in Dakar by the following facts:
- It was a 2 hour flight from Dakar
- everyone was speaking Portuguese
- they do mean cheesy creamy bacalao and big garlicky tuna steaks
- all the streets were cobbled and everything was quite cutesy and colonial
- all the taxis were new, functional, and haggle free
- non-nescafe coffee was widely available
- bou-bous (African outfits for men and women) to brighten up the day were only visible in our conference room, sported by visitors

The most exciting thing that happened when I was there was a major communications accident in which someone (apparently) cut through Cape Verde’s connection to the outside world - some sort of undersea incident with a fibre optic cable. So the powers that be are doing their best all week to hook the islands up to a satellite system but either it isn’t connecting properly or the capacity just isn’t up to it. Either way, the situation was no internet for 9 days (horrors!!) and very limited phone calls except for the odd ‘hole’ when it seemed to be working. Most likely very relaxing to get away from it all if you are on holiday but less good if you are supposed to be at work…

The novelty conference haul includes a t-shirt in see-through cotton with a wonky logo across the boob area, a calendar featuring a battered and bloody shark and a poster identification check list of the whales and dolphins of Cape Verde.

I did get a bit of a look around on the last day. I guess when the Portuguese landed and decided it looked like a green cape, they must have come in rainy season. April is getting toward the end of the (9 month long) dry season and I’m not sure I’ve ever been anywhere quite so brown and barren looking. The roads are lined with brave agricultural attempts and the withered products thereof. A tough place to make a living. And that’s without mentioning the water. Inland on the high ground there are mountain top drainage systems to collect water from low clouds over the hills; in other areas they mostly rely on an expensive de-salinisation process, or have it trucked in if you live in the middle of nowhere.

For a holiday though, it has loads of potential. Bright blue seas, yellow beaches, plenty of shipwrecks teeming with fish life for divers, and, best of all, what can only be described as a cartoon style, perfectly conical volcano, ripe for the climbing. Sadly it was a bit too misty to get good pics….

Joining in with the Chip-Eaters

It was a few years back that I first heard this term. I’ve no idea who coined it, but I got it from people working in the Caribbean, who would always lament the stopover of the London-Trinidad flight in one of the holiday isles, when the half empty plane would fill up with be-tanned, be-braided and be-beered Brits giving off a distinct odour of coconut oil. I guess the bitterness sets in when you’ve been sequestered somewhere for months locked in a sweaty room working your arse off, suddenly confronted with a stack of holiday makers, heading back to reality with not a care in the world. And hey, we brits abroad certainly eat a lot of chips…

I thought about this again recently when confronted with another chipeating experience, this time in the Gambia. Just in town briefly for a meeting, dodgy airline schedules meant I had a rare Sunday afternoon free in a work destination. Our hotel of choice is big bungalow complex and on walking in I immediately felt like I was in the Canary Islands; little apartments with dusty tables outside; blocked toilet; broken TV. That sort of thing :-). Anyhow it was a lovely little place with a pretty garden, beautiful beachfront location and friendly staff. But I think the fact that I haven’t been on a beach holiday for a good many years now (I get bored!) has turned me into something of a prude, because what struck me most was the sheer nakidity – mostly wobbly, stripy, lobster-y nudity. Having lunch with a colleague surrounded by the naked pink boobs of your compatriots is a peculiar thing, but of course I can’t complain about that because we were the odd ones out having a business lunch in a holiday resort. But I will complain about people leaving the complex and wandering the streets with it all hanging out. Not only is it a muslim country, but that particular day was a public holiday in celebration for the prophet’s birthday! I am now in full rant mode but I reckon a bit of respect wouldn’t go a miss.

And don’t even get me started on the female sex tourism …

Out and About

Well, there’s nothing like a bout of food poisoning to give you time to catch up with your blog. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to go out on a Saturday night or anything…

Mauritania.
In my final year at university we had a world map on our toilet wall. Always one to find new ways to avoid writing essays, I used to spend quite a lot of time in there memorising capital cities. Judging by the expansive geographical knowledge of my housemates, I wasn’t the only one. Nouakchott was always a toughie – none of us knew how to pronounce it and I still need the spellchecker to write it down. Mauritania is enormous, with bizarre, dead-straight borders, and usually coloured in yellow – almost pure desert. Always wanted to go there, but never thought I would.

Nouakchott itself is unspectacular. It didn’t exist 50 years ago and is a sprawling expanse of low rise buildings emerging from the desert. The lowest point (metaphorically) is the strip between the city and the sea, which is a giant rubbish dump. On the plus side, it has a great lively fish market, and the city itself is leafy, quiet and super safe. The airport is hilarious. The airline delays that are so frequent that you can rely on them and there is nothing to do there. To avoid wasting precious hours, for a small fee, a guy will check you in and stamp you out at immigration while you are on the other side of the city! Amusing, but pretty worrying really, and one of the reasons why this story didn’t surprise me too much... BBC NEWS Africa Air Mauritania hijack ends safely

However, I was headed up to the Parc National du Banc d’Arguin, up in the North, apparently one of the best bird watching sites in the world. The route there is via a superb paved, smooth road all the way, surrounded by sand dunes on one side and flatter sand on the other leading to the coast, with the odd tent here and there along the way. They might do a nice line in mint tea, but surely this is one of the most difficult places in the world to live your life?

The Park appears without signposting, although the office back from the road painted in brightly coloured birds is a good sign. Then we follow a ‘road’ for a couple of hours before reaching the sea. I couldn’t see that we were following any particular route, but we reached our final destination so we must have been.

There are a couple of research camps and a couple of basic campsites spread throughout the park. I say ‘basic’ – there are several ready made tents which sleep around 6 people and you can order delicious food from the villages (yellow mullet is the local thing - really good, especially after a day bouncing up and down in a 4x4). But that is where the luxury stops. The campsite we stayed in is one of the best, but even they’ve not yet got around to building the toilet facilities. Picture an amusing scene at 7am when everyone on the site is searching for their own dune….

The tourist business is limited, but those who do come all this way make the effort for the birds. Millions of migratory birds spend their winter here, or at least stop here on the way somewhere else. Pelicans, flamingos and spoonbills are among the big attractions but actually just the sheer numbers of little wading birds takes your breath away. The pictures don’t really do it justice because we were quite far off. The birds gather on the islands off the coast and you take a sailing boat to get there. The famous desert winds were not performing that day though and by about 2pm it became evident that we were going backwards! Still, noone was complaining – we were close enough to get great views through the binoculars and a group of dolphins (no idea of the collective noun for dolphins?!? A school of dolphins? A giggle of dolphins??) entertained us with some gymnastics around the boat while we ate fresh fish and rice cooked on the boat.

Inland there ain’t much but sand and camels. Warm camel milk is supposed to be the dogs bananas but negotiations with some camel shepherds were to prove fruitless in this regard. Two toothless rugged chaps who spend weeks in the desert at a time with only water and camel milk for nourishment had learned one very important word in French: ‘Biscuit’. Perfectly understandable considering what they normally have to live on but this was our last day and there was not a hob nob left between us. No Biscuit: No Milk. Had to make do with some camel cheese from the shop in Noaukchott – not bad, sort of camembert-y (funny colour though…)

Before the main road, the best way to and from the park was via the beach at low tide. We took this journey on the way back (environmentally allllllllll wrong – and we are supposed to be in conservation!) and it turns out to be quite a main road. Trucks full of fish dealers were flying by, but it was particularly busy on that day because the Dakar Rally had just finished so teams of brightly coloured 4x4s were heading home in the opposite direction. Felt a bit sorry for a Hungarian team we passed who were still heading towards Dakar, but I guess it is all about the taking part…

Another place I always wanted to go to was Cape Verde – a group of islands sticking out of the Atlantic off the West African coast. Apparently it is not really the ‘green cape’ at all, rather it’s a rocky landscape beaten by the ocean winds.

Anyway, I’m off there in April, so mission accomplished. What now for random places in the world to visit? Best sort out a trip to Vladivostock …

Hot Orange

Have you ever eaten a really hot orange? One that has been sitting in a car in the blazing sun all day, for example?

Don't do it. It's disgusting.

dipping a toe in the music scene

I have now had my first trip to go and see Senegalese music on a stage. I've qualified that because although I've not been to a club to specifically watch a performance before, there is music everywhere around here. In particular, the area where I live is a fairly close knit community and there is a lot of traditional singing goes on around the place and there are also a few groups of guys who set up for drumming sessions here and there - just like Camden! I am considerably less keen on the whole musical experience when it is in honour of the recently deceased, because in my very limited experience this means maximum volume and a 12 hour singing/wailing marathon. It is touching for the first couple of hours but it's a bit hard to concentrate on your work when the same tune is booming into your office for hour no. 6.

I saw a brief but very impressive performance by Habib Fall, long time bassist to Youssou N'dour, who is setting out on a solo career. By contrast to the standard 7 or 8 man band, his performance was just three guys and was a very mellow and catchy affair and very hard to pigeonhole. I'm already a fan.

For something a bit more folk-y, there was also Pape & Cheikh, who are way famous, have toured Europe, played in London and all sorts, but predictably I had never heard of them. I have now though - what's not to like about Senegalese music??

1001 Ways to make a right mess of the environment, part 1

I was recently lucky enough to be taking a boat ride around the mangroves of the Saloum Delta in Senegal. Mangroves generally get a bad press - they sit at the point between salt and fresh water and tend to collect sediment and rubbish and so are associated with disease. However, they also prevent coastal erosion, filter the water and provide a habitat for all manner of birds and aquatic life such as manatees and all sorts of fish. Shellfish are a big fan and like to attach themselves to the branches - collecting them is a big part of the economy of many communities. Cutting down mangroves is pretty disasterous all round, but it happens all the time because of industrial development, new roads, a need for wood and whatnot.

There is an ongoing campaign to improve the conservation of mangroves and all the economic and environmental benefits they sustain. In the Saloum in particular, there has been a long history of communications work with the communities there and the value of the mangrove is widely understood. However, understood or not, I saw first hand that there is still a long way to go...:

Pic 1: After a day's hard work spent half standing waist deep in muddy water and half sitting in boats that need constant bailing out, these ladies have two boats full of oysters (and they were delicious, probably part of the appeal was eating them out of a wheelbarrow? I've now eaten oysters from a bucket and a wheelbarrow as well as a more conventional plate and the plate definitely loses out)

Pic 2: Presumably to avoid standing in the water all day, why not chop the branches and take just take the oysters and half the mangrove as well?

But here's the dilemma: if you had to sit in a broken wet boat all day when you know you could do the job in half the time and spend the rest of the day doing something else, wouldn't you be tempted to do the same?

The Eggman

This morning I have just seen a man balancing at least 20 egg trays on his head. Those ones with 24 eggs in them. And they were all full. Clearly a man with supreme confidence in his own posture and strength but also in the lack of mischief in others not to give him a little shove (i was tempted but luckily i was in a taxi :-)). The thing is, though, that the top of the trays was a lot higher than the reach of his arms by a long way, so how does he get them down? Everytime he sells a dozen eggs does he have to take them all down and then hoik them back up again?

SeneGrub

After the weather, the next thing I have been asked most about is the food. Tasty descriptions of ingredients, home-made concoctions and the offerings of various eateries is really the realm of Experimental Jifflings (there’s a link on the left) but let me give you a bit of a picture of food in Dakar:

Theiboudienne:
This is the King of all Senegalese dishes and the first meal you will read about in any guidebook. And rightly so because, my goodness, it is everywhere. If you don’t like fish and rice, you’d best either pick an alternative holiday destination or bring a packed lunch. I think it looks pretty special – a giant plate of rice with a hill of goodness piled in the middle – lots fish still on the bone, and then a selection of veg that varies and can include cabbage, carrot, aubergine or manioc, all in a fishy, onion-y sauce. It doesn’t look pretty for very long though – the fun part is that everything is still whole, or in big chunks, so when digging in you have to grab the carrot or the fish or whatever either with your hand or a spoon, depending on household preference, and break a bit off for yourself and for anyone else not within reaching distance of said carrot, but without using your left hand – a bit of a challenge at the beginning but soon develops into a party trick.

There is also a variation with meat which is equally good although I doubt I will ever master cutting meat off a bone with a spoon…

Yassa
Mmm, yassa is gooood! It is meat, often chicken, with a lovely onion sauce all over it. I am told it is just onions with some lemon. I am sceptical as I am not sure how those two solitary things can blend together to make such a tasty thing, but apparently it is all in the timing and caramelising of the onions. I’m happy to eat it, whatever it is.

In fact onion sauce is omnipresent, so I would add onions to my list of things you must like if you are going to live in Senegal, along with French bread, Nescafe and Hot sugary minty tea.

Mafé
Mafé is another rice dish with meat/ veg but with a peanutty twist. Extremely tasty but you pay for it afterwards- it sits in your stomach like a brick.

Chakri
So imagine this one then – millet and sour milk/yoghurt with sugar. A peculiar texture but actually really good – sort of like a cross between a bowl of bran buds and semolina. The sour milk is unpasteurised – I’ve had it a couple of times without any trouble but I realise that stomach-wise it’s not such a smart move, and you can make it European style with normal or evaporated/ condensed milk.

There is also a hot version – the name escapes me but with the milk poured on it’s like a rice pudding fresh from the oven.

Sheep’s feet soup
This has a wolof name but I’ve forgotten it and anyway it wouldn’t have the same impact. An enormous pot of soup with all sorts of veg is made in a sheepy stock which contains not just feet but neck and rolled stuffed intestines. It’s surprisingly good (ok, ok, I admit I am still acquiring the taste for the foot part but the rest is good), although I bet it would taste better with a blindfold.


I don’t want to deprive Mr Jiffler of potential content so I won’t say anymore. Suffice to say I am worried about becoming the size of a house with all this rice, white bread and hearty food…

Mauritania

Nouakchott's new high-speed fish transportation service:

La vie dakaroise

Officially I am starting month 3 of my contract, but I’ve been travelling so much that I have only racked up about 5 weeks or so in town, so I’m still indulging myself as a beginner. This means that I am still allowed to go to the ‘Bakery of Hope’ on the corner near my flat and eat their fantastic cream doughnuts as a meal until I sort myself out properly and that sort of thing….

Dakar, if you don’t know it, to me is similar to Nairobi in terms of scale, busy-ness, general feel and whatnot, but it’s by the sea and you are about a million percent less likely to be a victim of a nasty crime. (I’m somewhat superstitious so I am now clinging to my wooden desk). So far I have a warm feeling about the place, but then that is probably because I live and work out of town so I don’t ever have to go there; going into town and getting stuck in the perpetual traffic jams are my choice and usually because I have something fun to do (like buying saucepans). I imagine that anyone who has to drive there a little bit every day might feel less benevolently about it.

So, a few titbits about Dakar that the lonely planet (maybe) doesn’t tell you about:

- Mosque noises
This is my first time working in a Muslim country and so it caught me by surprise. During the day I find the calls to prayer often very soothing, but first thing in the morning it can drive you to distraction. I am slowly training myself not to have to sleep with earplugs and manage not to wake up during the 4.40am call - considering there are 2 loudspeakers pointing directly at my house that is no mean feat.

- City Animals
I wonder what the goat, sheep and cow population of Dakar is. Actually the sheep population is a darn site lower after Tabaski, until next December when they will fill the central reservations of all the main roads again and every street corner will look like a nativity scene with a little tent, candle light and the animals. Cows have right of way in traffic, and goats have to look out for themselves- must be a size thing.

Horses are also a popular means of transport – it’s a nice sight in the evenings to see them all lined up by their carts munching away in their nosebags. And frankly, why not – I can’t think of a better way of carrying fridges and wardrobes about the town. It’s much simpler than trying to squeeze things into white vans, and eco-friendly!

- Friendliness
It’s hard to express in words how hospitable and just all round nice everyone has been to me so far. The Senegalese teranga (hospitality) is a bit of a cliché, but I think it goes beyond that somehow. Everyone has gone out of their way to be helpful since the day I arrived and to give you an example, I am just the right side of 30 and plenty big enough to look after myself, yet 2 different households have sent me food round for dinner this week…

- Rubbish
I’m going to mention this now because already I have become used to it and in a few weeks time most likely I will stop noticing altogether. The rubbish in this city is dire. It is everywhere. There is not a piece of empty land that doesn’t have a big fat pile of debris on it. The goats are doing their level best to deal with it, but even they struggle with plastic, metal and wood, and even with the organic rubbish they can’t quite eat it quickly enough before it starts to smell.

Mind you, I did see a sheep chewing on a fussball table yesterday.

Lengthy introduction…

Rather than starting this blog with a humorous opening gambit, I’m going to go off-piste and kick off with a mini disclaimer: the aim of this blog is just to share some of my pictures and experiences in and around Senegal with my lovely friends and family and therefore not clog up their inboxes with weekly travelogs. I reckon they might thank me for that at least J

By its very nature (by that I mean it’s me writing…) it will be a British take on all things Senegalese, from observations on everyday occurrences which are still a novelty back home to stuff which is out of the ordinary wherever you are from. That’s it – by finding something novel, unusual or funny I am not suggesting that anybody’s way is better than anyone else’s or meaning to offend - quite the reverse, I am totally fascinated by everything surrounding me and its that fascination that has plunged me into the world of geeks and bloggers (sorry, Mr J).

Disclaimer No 2: I am usually pretty flimsy at keeping up these things, so please don’t be too surprised if Mrs Jiffler has disappeared within 6 months (it’s taken me 2 months to write the second post!!), only to be a distant memory on some wacky cookery blog…