{"id":77296,"date":"2024-11-12T08:44:06","date_gmt":"2024-11-12T08:44:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pietheineek.nl\/?p=77296"},"modified":"2025-03-04T14:01:46","modified_gmt":"2025-03-04T14:01:46","slug":"dakar-2024","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pietheineek.nl\/en\/uncategorized\/dakar-2024","title":{"rendered":"I\u2019ve been to Dakar with Geertje\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\u201cEindhoven Dakar art and design rally\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

All three of my daughters, as a reward for something they\u2019ve achieved in their lives and truly worked hard for (it can\u2019t be too easy), have been allowed to choose a trip with me. Lieve and Roos decided, after passing their high school and vocational exams, to go to Japan. Pretty clever, since they know it\u2019s my favorite destination. Just like when they used to pick bedtime stories, they quickly figured out that they\u2019d be read to much longer if I also enjoyed the story. Now they knew they\u2019d get more \u201cvalue for money\u201d by choosing Japan. It\u2019s been years, but those were very special trips, and I can still remember so much from them. But Geertje, when she finished her studies, thought, *I want something really special and different*.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few years ago, we came up with the idea to go to the art biennale in Dakar. The city of the Baobabs, where Orchestra Baobab more than 50 years ago made a name for itself as the house band in the club of the same name. Africa fascinates me immensely, and art is like a mirror for society, like a thermometer for the state of the world. Since it\u2019s an adventure, we booked our tickets well in advance. A month ago, however, it was suddenly announced that the biennale had been postponed by a few months. We\u2019re debating whether we should still go. No festival, but surely there will be plenty of art to see, and we can just experience the city as it is. Geertje thinks she\u2019ll be far too busy in November anyway, so we\u2019re sticking to our original dates. I\u2019ve booked Hotel Lagon 2, a 1970s hotel built half into the sea along the coast. The restaurant of the same name (Lagon 1) is a few hundred meters further, built on a pier.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019ll drive to Brussels very early in the morning, as there are direct and affordable flights from there. Makes sense, since Belgium has a much more recent and lively history with Africa. Whether that\u2019s something positive, though, is debatable. We haven\u2019t yet figured out how we\u2019ll get from the airport to the hotel. The brand-new airport, built by the Chinese, is located outside the city, and the railway connection\u2014partially built by the French but now being completed by the Chinese\u2014hasn\u2019t arrived yet. So, we\u2019ll have to take a taxi. As soon as we head toward the exit, we\u2019re approached by a large number of drivers.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At that point, we don\u2019t yet realize how quickly we\u2019ll need to learn to kindly shake off people who want something (usually money) from us. The first driver succeeds immediately, we follow him and get in. It\u2019s our first taxi. An old thing, with worn-out upholstery, various things don\u2019t work, but the air conditioning does\u2014and we don\u2019t yet know how special that is. I assume that people who have things figured out know how to get a decent taxi, but I later conclude that they probably have their own cars with drivers. The only recognizable taxis here are yellow and black, and nearly all of them are in terrible condition!\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We drive for over an hour, first through a barren landscape, but soon the outskirts of the city appear. It\u2019s an endless road through an urban wasteland of unfinished buildings made from gray concrete blocks. Here and there, laundry is hung outside, some houses are plastered, and the mosques are either finished or still under construction. The road is incredibly busy and dusty, and most of the cars would never pass inspection where we\u2019re from. We drive in long, random lines toward the city center. If four cars can fit next to each other, we drive with four side by side, and when the road narrows or a car is parked or there\u2019s simply an object in the road (for no apparent reason), the driver boldly and skillfully merges. The number of lanes seems to be determined by how many cars the drivers think can fit next to each other\u2014when traffic slows, more cars fit! Geertje finds it thrilling, while I\u2019m thoroughly enjoying the anarchy and chaos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A large portion of the vehicles are ancient Mercedes buses converted for passenger transport. These buses are all dented, some roughly hammered out, and beautifully painted. They\u2019re packed full, with loaders hanging off the back step, clinging to the ladders used to load enormous piles of luggage onto the roof racks. We even see cars with a few goats strapped to the roof. We don\u2019t yet know that next week, right after we leave, there\u2019s a festival where almost everyone eats goat. The city is teeming with goats.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we arrive at the hotel, it turns out to be in a rather dilapidated state. Right up my alley, but Geertje was expecting a bit more luxury and is somewhat disappointed. Months ago, when I made the reservation, I asked for two separate beds. When I inquire about it, the lady at the reception confirms that this was indeed the request. After some brief communication, a mattress is brought out, and the porter and a hotel staff member carry it under their arm as they walk with us to our room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we enter the room, they quickly rush in, pull out the sofa bed, throw the mattress on it, and make the bed. Now we have the two separate beds we asked for. I was pretty confident the hotel would be good because very close friends of ours\u2014who are quite fond of luxury\u2014had recommended it, but now I\u2019m starting to have my doubts. Later, I realize they probably stayed in one of the suites on the upper floor. Personally, I love it. The hotel is old and worn, built long ago with a lot of care and attention, never renovated, and thus never ruined, so it\u2019s still an experience. It\u2019s built half into the sea. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We walk to our rooms, with a sort of jungle clinging to the old coastal rocks on our right and the hotel building on our left, with doors leading to the rooms. Large sections feature black-painted shutters and panels, with a small window and the entrance to each room between them. The windows and doors are round. The railing along the jungle slopes away, making it feel like you\u2019re walking on the deck of a ship toward your cabin. Later, I notice that the hallway below us, and really the entire ground floor, isn\u2019t maintained at all\u2014I think some of the staff might sleep there. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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That same evening, we have dinner at the restaurant on the pier. It\u2019s beautifully maintained, once again with a maritime theme, but instead of modern architecture, it\u2019s much more classic, built from ship parts\u2014varnished wood, brass and copper windows, fish hanging from the ceiling, and photos of water sports enthusiasts from a bygone era on the walls. Later, we learn that the photos, over 50 years old, are of the restaurant\u2019s owners, their guests, and friends. The boy in the photos, now a grown man, is the one running the business today. We have a wonderful time, the food is decent, and we share our first bottle of ros\u00e9. In Dakar, there are three types of ros\u00e9 to choose from. Throughout the rest of our stay, we realize that all the restaurants offer the same selection. If you dine at a more expensive place, it\u2019s the same bottle, just priced higher. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This actually happens in the Netherlands too, but with our wider selection, it\u2019s less noticeable. In Senegal, despite vast mineral and fossil wealth and plenty of potential, almost everything is imported. They do make their own concrete though, and that\u2019s evident everywhere! After our first day, we head to bed tired but content. The next day, we\u2019ll figure out what to do\u2014definitely see a lot of art, try to find some music, and explore the city on foot!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Dakar<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s only a two-hour time difference, so getting up is almost effortless. Geertje is awake before I am and already busy working on her laptop. Throughout the trip, she works every morning and whenever there\u2019s a spare moment. She\u2019s just as driven as I used to be. I\u2019m more relaxed, processing the experiences and thinking about what we could do. I start looking up the first galleries we should visit and think we can walk the first part. Geertje is a bit hesitant about walking because it\u2019s hot and seems far. But of course, we end up walking\u2014it\u2019s the best way to explore a city. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We walk along the coastal road, La Corniche, passing by the Lagon 1 restaurant (the hotel is Lagon 2) with its private beach. They\u2019ve built a sort of pier to separate paying guests from the local population. The \u201cpublic beach\u201d is a soccer beach, littered with an unbelievable amount of trash against the slope, and at the far end of the beach, there\u2019s a shantytown made of scrap materials. The goals are made of two tires half-buried in the ground. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A bit further along, on the other side of the road, stands the Pullman Hotel, a dull, large, reddish-brown building perched on the slope, with walls and structures reaching down to the road, and on the other side, by the water, it has its own pool. To the right, beside the tall walls, an old, poorly maintained, but colorfully decorated stone staircase leads upward. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At the service entrance of the Pullman, we see the only ragged homeless person we\u2019ll encounter in the coming weeks. With 93% of the population being Muslim, divided into three sects and very tolerant of each other and others, there\u2019s hardly any drinking. As a result, there\u2019s less of the usual trouble with vagrants who spend their days passed out and in decline. However, by the service entrance of the Pullman, the smell from this one homeless person reminds me of how many places in Paris reek similarly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other side of the staircase, behind a sleek wall with a wooden door, we glimpse lush greenery. That wooden door leads to one of the few restored colonial buildings, where a small hotel-restaurant is located. It turns out to be the place recommended to me after I had already booked at Le Lagon. It\u2019s a delightful spot, serving Italian cuisine, and as is the case almost everywhere here, the staff are incredibly kind and skilled. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the staircase, we meet a young Frenchman. Since Senegal is a former French colony, there are still many French people living here. He\u2019s a really fun guy. He\u2019s in Dakar for a few weeks working for the IMF (International Monetary Fund) but had lived here for years before. We exchange ideas on things to do\u2014or more accurately, we share our plans, and he offers some tips. We briefly touch on politics and the recently elected prime minister, about whom everyone I\u2019ve spoken to so far has been very positive. It\u2019s a rather complicated situation though, as the president was essentially put forward by a highly beloved politician who was accused and convicted of inappropriate behavior towards his secretary. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

No one really knows whether the accusations are true or not, but the fact remains that he can\u2019t become president. The man he put forward is of impeccable character and, after taking office, announced that he plans to reopen contracts with multinationals and foreign countries to renegotiate terms that would benefit the nation. After some initial uproar, he added that he would do so with respect for all parties involved. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The young French banker says he\u2019s curious to see how things will go with the new president, but then calls him a racist. I ask what he means, and he explains that the president wants to expel white people (the French) from the country. I find it amusing and respond that, in that case, he\u2019s more of an anti-colonialist and simply wants autonomy. And if he actually follows through on his promises\u2014ensuring the population benefits\u2014it would be the best thing that could happen to the country and everyone involved. I believe the banker agrees with me. So, it\u2019s exciting to see if the president will keep his word, which would be quite remarkable in Africa. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the most notable stories I keep hearing is that, after being elected, one of the president\u2019s first actions was to declare that, since the country was a mess, it needed to be cleaned up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Twice a month, on Sundays, everyone must participate in cleaning. I ask how this is paid for, and the response is that people respect their elders (those in power), so when something is requested, they do it. Plus, everyone seems enthusiastic about the measure. They say the city has already become noticeably cleaner in just two months. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, I hear that Dakar was once a very green city during the French colonial period. Now, it\u2019s more like a city of sand and stone, filled with a vast number of poorly or entirely unmaintained colonial-era buildings, dirt roads or streets where the pavement seems to have disappeared, and many unfinished modern structures. Even the completed ones are simply unattractive. Perhaps the most impressive buildings are still the massive residential blocks built by the French around the central square (Place de l\u2019Ind\u00e9pendance). You can see that they once housed opulent and luxurious apartments, and that this area must have been the city\u2019s luxury hub. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We continue walking, and after the Pullman, to the right, there are a few modern, and therefore ugly, apartment buildings. Shortly after, we pass a quirky old villa built between the road and the sea, which seems to have last served as a beach caf\u00e9, but is now closed and awaiting demolition. The building is painted in black and white, and in a niche, there\u2019s a half-sunken sign that says \u201cchantier interdit au public\u201d (\u201csinging prohibited in public\u201d). I suspect it\u2019s being demolished because it\u2019s too close to the presidential palace. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Immediately after the black-and-white villa, to the right of the road, stands a long concrete wall surrounding the presidential gardens. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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La Corniche, the long coastal road, runs between the sea and the palace gardens, meaning the president cannot simply walk from his garden to the sea. In fact, a high concrete wall surrounds him for protection. After the palace, the road continues along the rugged coastline. Beautiful old buildings stand near the water below, but they\u2019re either abandoned or occupied by the local population. An old hotel and its annexes are now a base for fishermen. At this point, the coast no longer belongs to the wealthy. They live in the large, protected apartment buildings overlooking the sea, with their own private beaches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We pass by a kind of park situated between the road and the sea. The stairs and pathways leading down are made of concrete filled with rubber tires, creating a beautiful and effective surface. Geertje stands on the road above the path, busy on her phone, trying to resolve some production issues back home while I explore the rubber tire park. Geertje wants to stop by a pharmacy because we lost one prescription in the Netherlands, leaving us with only half of our malaria pills. I\u2019m okay with it, but Geertje prefers not to take any risks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we spot a pharmacy, we go inside. It\u2019s surprisingly modern and well-kept. We ask for the pills, and they have the exact same ones we need. We also want some sunscreen, and soon we\u2019re being offered various other products. They notice Geertje\u2019s very pale and sensitive skin and suggest several options. Ultimately, I think it\u2019s indeed a good idea to buy something for after sun exposure for her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We head to the register, but the card reader isn\u2019t working, so we pay in cash. One euro is about 650 Senegalese francs, and we\u2019re still getting used to the exchange rate. Once outside, we realize we\u2019ve spent quite a bit. The malaria treatment is comparable to prices in the Netherlands, but everything else isn\u2019t cheap, and the aftersun lotion didn\u2019t make it into the bag. I think to myself that if they need to pay all the employees in the store who would likely earn nothing otherwise, then it\u2019s fine to pay a bit more. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We continue walking, taking in all the sights, but I\u2019m not really focused on the path. After a while, I start to think it\u2019s taking too long because we should have reached the neighborhood with the galleries by now. I check my phone and see that we\u2019ve missed our turn early on. The route planner indicates that the route is unknown, but the map with my location is available, so I just need to figure out where I am and where our destination is, and then I can navigate better. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We now have to walk quite a distance, and instead of going back along La Corniche, we decide to head straight up toward our goal. I still don\u2019t quite know where we want to go since I couldn\u2019t find the exact location, let alone plot it on the map. As we walk in what I think is the right direction, we eventually get tired of it. We pass the bus station, with a sand lot behind it, on a slope. At the top of the slope is a kind of taxi stand, where dozens of the yellow-black taxis we\u2019ve seen throughout the city are parked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s a colorful assortment of vehicles, none of which are without dents and most fitting the description of wrecks. So far, we haven\u2019t seen a single normal taxi on the road, leading us to conclude that they simply don\u2019t exist. The taxi drivers are circling around, offering rides, providing the same service to tourists but at a different price. They probably have no idea that the vehicle they\u2019re driving wouldn\u2019t even be allowed on the road back home, and that their passengers are feeling a bit uneasy <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Interestingly, there\u2019s room for negotiation on the price, but you have to be better at it than they are, and for them, it\u2019s their livelihood, so I consistently lose the bargaining game without being too bothered by it. The taxi drivers realize we\u2019re looking for a ride and try to offer us all sorts of options. We end up walking with the most cunning one and discover that he is the proud owner of the biggest wreck of them all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We step inside, me on the right in the back seat, and I see in the side mirror\u2014held together with tape and barely hanging on\u2014that the taxi number is painted on the door. I find it beautiful and want to take photos, but I hesitate, thinking he might not appreciate me photographing his broken car, which is valuable to him. It\u2019s a miracle the car even runs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dashboard has no buttons, radio, ashtray, or drawers; it\u2019s a dusty gray-black Swiss cheese of holes with the car\u2019s innards exposed behind it. The ceiling hangs at least five centimeters loose from the roof, and the original brown soundproofing material is visible on the sides. I wonder how the ceiling stays up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Photos would have been helpful to provide a full description. The driver releases the handbrake, and the car starts rolling down the slope. He lets the clutch come up; the car doesn\u2019t start on the first try but fires up on the second. Since he lacks nearly all buttons and doesn\u2019t have a starter motor, he must always park on a hill with a clear path. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We drive toward an art gallery that everyone seems to think I want to visit. It\u2019s in the direction of where I thought we needed to go. The driver asks for 2,000 francs, about 3 euros, which seems like a fair price! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Upon arrival, it turns out to be one of the busiest places in Dakar, and the gallery isn\u2019t a gallery but a passage filled with lots of little shops. More like a bazaar, but with plenty of local art\u2014or rather, tourist trinkets. Before we\u2019ve even gotten out of the car, a very friendly man approaches us. He speaks both French and English. His French is \u201cregular\u201d French instead of Senegalese French, so I can follow him well. Geertje doesn\u2019t speak French at all, so it\u2019s nice to communicate in English. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He takes us around to various shops and friends, seeming to know everyone. Instead of the vendors offering us items, he does it; we are his customers. It seems there\u2019s an unwritten rule that if a clever trader hooks a tourist and manages to get high prices by being persuasive, they can just sell items from someone else\u2019s shop. I assume they later regroup to negotiate who gets what. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the end, I buy a soccer jersey from the Senegal national football team, which I find quite fitting, as football is played everywhere, just like it used to be back home. They\u2019re big, athletic, skillful boys who spend their time playing football instead of sitting behind a television or laptop, which they probably don\u2019t even have. It\u2019s only a matter of time before Senegal becomes world champion, and now I already have a jersey!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our self-appointed guide takes us to a street I want to explore because I see a large gate leading to an area filled with numerous old trucks and buses. However, Geertje has had enough; she feels uncomfortable and wants to return to the hotel to escape the chaos. I politely decline the man\u2019s offer and we set off to find a taxi, which we manage to find fairly quickly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back at the hotel, we speak with the security guard (there are guards everywhere) about our plans to explore galleries the next day, and he suggests we take the hotel driver. For the program we have in mind, it would cost about 20,000 francs, or 30 euros, which is reasonable. Geertje thinks that\u2019s quite a lot, noting that the minimum monthly wage in Senegal is 95 euros. We agree to set off with the driver the following morning at eleven. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We decide to do some grocery shopping. We walk down the road from the hotel to the colorful staircase leading into the city. Outside the hotel, there\u2019s a bustling crowd of beggars in wheelchairs. I wonder why they all beg in the same spot. It would be much more efficient to spread out or stagger their times. Maybe they just enjoy each other\u2019s company. The restaurant attracts wealthy patrons, and it seems worth it for them to wait there day in and day out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As we walk by, a very nice man starts walking with us and makes quick contact. \u201cAh, Dutch people!\u201d He\u2019s lived in Rotterdam and speaks a few words of Dutch. Before we know it, he\u2019s given Geertje a gift, genuinely wanting to share because he finds us so pleasant. He soon learns we\u2019re looking for a supermarket and offers to take us there. He has nothing else to do and is headed in that direction. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we arrive, I make a half-hearted attempt to suggest that we can manage the shopping ourselves, but he insists on joining us. When I clearly express that we don\u2019t really need him, he says he doesn\u2019t need anything, but he has to take care of his wife and children, which of course requires money. He won\u2019t leave until I give him something, and when I try to offer him a couple thousand francs (a few euros), he insists it\u2019s too little, claiming his family deserves more than just rice. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To get rid of him, I eventually hand over 10,000 francs. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We conclude that I need to get much better at brushing people off so I don\u2019t constantly feel like I\u2019m being scammed. On the other hand, the man likely wouldn\u2019t be so clever if he had enough. A few days later, while walking through the city, he recognizes us from afar and promptly approaches, calling out, \u201cMy friends from Holland!\u201d We make a quick exit. He has no idea we feel like he\u2019s been trying to con us! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back at the hotel, we decide to have dinner again at Lagon 1, the restaurant on the pier next to the hotel. We enjoy a delightful evening; the atmosphere and service are fantastic, but the food is nothing to write home about. Almost all the other Europeans we talk to find the food quite good, so perhaps it\u2019s just the choices we\u2019re making. The people are incredibly friendly. Geertje quickly connects with the owners and staff, making our days there enjoyable and cozy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That evening, I dive into the internet to prepare for the next day, hoping to give the taxi driver clear directions and visit several galleries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Taximan <\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The taxi driver is named Bassirou, but I later learn that his friends call him Bas. He is young and strong and speaks Senegalese French, so I have to pay close attention. His teeth are in bad shape, and it seems he never goes to the dentist. I\u2019ve seen quite a few clinics, but judging by the state of people\u2019s teeth, it\u2019s clearly not accessible to everyone. It\u2019s a shame because he\u2019s a nice guy. Today, we have a dedicated driver who simply waits for us while we go inside places. Sometimes he walks with us, which is quite handy since it helps us avoid being approached by a lot of people trying to sell us something. I ask him a ton of questions about everything I see and wonder about. He tells me about goats, mentioning that a holiday is coming up when everyone will eat goat, so the animals will soon be slaughtered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unfinished buildings are a result of legislation and economic crisis. They don\u2019t have to be completed, and people continue building when they have the money. During the COVID-19 crisis, many builders faced difficulties, leading to more unfinished buildings than ever. He explains how the president was elected and that he is doing a good job. He also mentions that he needs to arrange for another goat for his family, which is expensive, but he also has two goats with his father to sell (I think I don\u2019t quite understand him there). The city is actually pretty safe as long as it\u2019s busy; the quiet spots are much more dangerous. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had just the opposite feeling. Bas explains that La Corniche, the long coastal road, is quite dangerous in the quiet areas. Scooters zoom past you, grabbing everything loose. The taxi isn\u2019t his, but he would love to have his own one day. He\u2019s saving for that, which isn\u2019t easy because he has to provide for his wife, children, and parents. As we talk and drive from one gallery to another, we get to know each other. I\u2019ve tried to map out a smart route, but sometimes we end up driving long distances anyway. It turns out to be a pretty effective way to experience the city. It\u2019s like a panorama unfolding before us. Dakar is lively. Everything and everyone is alive, working, and trading on the streets. A garage repairs cars right on the sidewalk\u2014jack under the car, engine out, and you\u2019re good to go. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of our main destinations for the day is the Villages Des Arts, a neighborhood where artists live, work, or display their art. These are old shanties provided to artists. Dakar has had an art academy for a long time, and art seems rooted in the city. This is likely why the African Art Biennale takes place in Dakar. It\u2019s a large area with many artists, although not all of them are present, but the studios are mostly open, and there\u2019s a lot to see and experience outside. There\u2019s also an exhibition space where a rather unfriendly woman is walking around. We later learn from Bassirou that she had to pray (which she did). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We definitely didn\u2019t arrive at the best time! It\u2019s a lovely exhibition with a well-prepared catalog, but walking around outside, talking to the artists, and seeing their work in the place where it\u2019s created is much more interesting and impactful. When I ask Bas if he doesn\u2019t have to pray too, he says he does that when he can; they\u2019re not too strict about it! We see beautiful work from different artists, but it\u2019s too much to take in all at once, so we decide to leave and come back later. We still have nearly a week to explore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In between our activities, I look into where the galleries are, and slowly but surely, I\u2019m getting a bit better at navigating the city and understanding it. We\u2019re actually close to the old center, where everything is walkable, so we decide to walk the next day. We see beautiful art in various forms. In several large galleries, there are surprisingly impressive museum-quality installations on display. Dakar is truly an art city. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the afternoon, we have an appointment with Bibi Seck, a designer with Senegalese roots. We got his name from Ana\u00efs, a connection we have a wonderful rapport with. She has a vacation home near Dakar where we\u2019ll be going in a few days, and she visits regularly. She\u2019s given us a lot of tips, one of which is that we should meet each other. First, we stop by Selebe Yoon, a stunning gallery on the top floor of what was once a French luxury department store. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We spend a long time looking around, and I\u2019m amazed by the quality of the work and the presentations, as well as the warm welcome. Initially, I actually thought this was Bibi\u2019s gallery, but after some subtle probing, I discover that\u2019s not the case. His studio is down the same street, further down on the right side across from Place de l\u2019Independance. Despite the fairly clear directions, it\u2019s challenging to find, and the messages I send to Bibi apparently don\u2019t go through. Eventually, it turns out that the gallery\/studio is on the upper floors and accessible via a side entrance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We feel a bit awkward; I\u2019ve only taken a brief look and know that Bibi has a gallery (which is also what Ana\u00efs mentioned), but I didn\u2019t realize he\u2019s a well-known designer. When we finally make it upstairs, he\u2019s in conversation with a nice Frenchman. We exchange thoughts, and slowly but surely, it becomes more relaxed. Geertje later comments that this is largely thanks to Bibi, as he\u2019s the one keeping the conversation going. Bibi works alongside his wife, who is also a designer and is currently busy with her work. The atmosphere isn\u2019t electrifying, but it\u2019s pleasant. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We want to arrange to grab a meal or drink together, but that doesn\u2019t seem to work out. We\u2019re headed to Ana\u00efs\u2019s vacation home in Saly, and they\u2019ll be leaving Dakar when we return. We try to make plans for that evening, but it doesn\u2019t happen. I have a delightful meal with Geertje at Seku Bi, the restaurant in the hotel near the colorful staircase with the street performer, which Ana\u00efs actually recommended for lodging. Instead of the faded glory found in many places, it\u2019s restored to a romantic colonial elegance here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Orchestra Baobab<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I wanted to go to Dakar because it\u2019s the city where Orchestra Baobab once played as the house band in the club of the same name. More than fifty years after the orchestra was founded, I went to a live concert with Steef in Haarlem just before we departed for Dakar. Steef made contact, and we found out that they\u2019re performing today on the beach at the club La Mer \u00e0 Table. The day is entirely dedicated to Orchestra Baobab. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After struggling to get in touch, we managed to reserve a table through Instagram with the guitarist. We\u2019ve booked lunch for 3 PM, well ahead of their performance, which gives us the chance to eat first. The atmosphere is fantastic, and the decor is beautiful. The roof with woven reed lamps and the chairs where the musicians sit are especially lovely. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019re so excited that we enjoy everything happening around us. The band is set up with their backs to the sea, and surfers paddle in a rhythmic dance on the waves behind them, occasionally a surfer zipping by on a wave enters our view. Gradually, the place fills up. It\u2019s a very diverse crowd: young, old, white, and black. The band starts to play, and almost immediately, an old man begins to dance, soon joined by another. Then an older lady steps in with the gentlemen, setting the tone for the evening. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The older folks take the lead, dancing to music they\u2019ve known for over fifty years. Most of the band members have now been replaced by young men. They may not be as good as their predecessors, but everyone is dancing and enthusiastic. The guitarist who reserved our tickets plays incredibly well. In the end, everyone is dancing in front of, on, beside, and even under the stage. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Saly \/ key\u00a0<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Like every morning, we take it easy. First, we have breakfast\u2014a kind of \u201ccontinental breakfast,\u201d not as high quality as back home, but it\u2019s perfectly fine. The pastries are dry but tasty, and we\u2019ve gotten to know the staff by now, which adds to the pleasant experience. Every morning, we sit outside. Geertje feeds the fish crumbs (also pieces of bread); there are an enormous number of fish. Senegal boasts one of the most fish-rich seas in the world. There are also significant contracts in place that seem to be at the expense of local fishermen. The new president wants to reopen and renegotiate these contracts. He\u2019s completely right, but of course, the owners of those large fishing companies don\u2019t see it that way, even though they can count down the days until there\u2019s little left if the sea is emptied out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After breakfast, Bassirou takes us to the station, which is very close, but we have to navigate through one of the busiest and liveliest streets in the city to get there. Stalls line the busy road, and it\u2019s teeming with people. By now, we know that this hustle and bustle isn\u2019t dangerous, but it\u2019s tough to get through with luggage, so we take a taxi instead. We\u2019re taking the brand-new train that is supposed to eventually reach the new airport, but for now, it stops at a station outside a suburb where Serigne will come to pick us up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I learned from Ana\u00efs that I should call him when I get on the train. He\u2019s a childhood friend of hers and takes care of the houses and guests. When I finally reach him, he says I should have called earlier because the train takes less time than he does. We spend over an hour on the train, traveling almost continuously through the suburbs and outskirts of Dakar. It\u2019s the same intriguing world passing by us again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gray concrete unfinished city, with the occasional neatly plastered minaret of a mosque rising above it. Just like how churches used to be built on the backs of the poor in our past, providing support and solace, it\u2019s probably the same here now. When we arrive, it turns out the station is \u201cin the middle of nowhere.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Surrounding the station is a massive construction site, as they\u2019re busy completing the final stretch of highway and railway to the airport. The station and track are being built by the Chinese. The already completed highway was half constructed by the French. It took them four years to finish, as it was supposed to be done by then. The second half was built by the Chinese in less than two years. Serigne later tells me that the French work one shift and take long lunches, while the Chinese work three shifts without breaks, so progress happens quickly! I suspect it works on concessions, as you pay a toll like in France to the operator, which in this case is French and Chinese! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We have to wait at least an hour, but when I message Serigne, it turns out it will take even longer. Geertje is grumpy; there\u2019s nothing to do at the station, and you can\u2019t even get a drink. The shops are prepared but still closed. I think the plan is to build a city around the station, which will make it busier, but for now, it\u2019s still in a sandy wasteland. It\u2019s warm, and the only activity is the comings and goings of trains and passengers. I stand at the entrance with sliding doors where something has been placed to let the breeze through. The draft provides some cooling. Occasionally, a car pulls up with travelers.\u00a0I watch the people getting on and off.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Geertje is sitting inside working on her laptop. At one point, an old Mercedes passenger bus, one I\u2019ve seen many of, pulls up. This one is in decent shape\u2014not all dented and fully painted\u2014but it has porters and the typical roof rack. The bus enters the roundabout and stops right in front of me. Now I can take a photo. It may not be the prettiest or most worn-out example, but it\u2019s right in front of me. As I take the picture, I hear a lot of cheering behind me, and the first children begin to gather around me from the right and left. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I start filming. It\u2019s a large class with teachers and a lot of luggage. They must have been on a camp. Two porters climb onto the roof while one stays below to hand up the suitcases. Once everything is loaded, a net is pulled over to secure it all. The spare tire, also on the roof, is placed at the end of the net for ballast. The porters climb in last, and the bus drives away. I feel like I\u2019ve just watched a play. All the waiting was worth it for me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A little later, Serigne arrives, and we ride with him to Ana\u00efs\u2019s house in Saly. The journey from the station to Saly takes over an hour (Serigne was stuck in traffic for a long time on the way to the station), and we drive through a Baobab forest. It\u2019s not a forest like we have; it\u2019s a sandy plain with the occasional ancient tree. In the rainy season, it\u2019s completely green, but now it\u2019s a barren wasteland with trees and occasionally large industrial complexes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trees are beautiful and survive because they are old and deeply rooted, needing little water. I can\u2019t help but think of the Amazon rainforest, where I was long ago. They were cutting down the jungle to create farmland while leaving the protected colossal Brazil nut trees standing, but those can\u2019t survive without the surrounding rainforest. The trek to the forest was a sad, kilometers-long journey where the trees farthest from the forest were in the worst condition. It was a massacre! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fortunately, the Baobabs, which are also protected, stand tall and seem to survive everything. Saly is the largest beach resort in Senegal and is adjacent to a beautiful natural area. Before we eat, we decide to go for a swim. We change into our swimsuits and leave everything in the house behind, taking only a few thousand francs and the house keys in my pocket. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We walk along the main road (all the places are located along this long road by the coast), with large hotels between the road and the sea. After passing the last hotel, we walk onto the beach. We discover that on one side of the beach is the sea and on the other side, the lagoon. It\u2019s a beautiful, lively place. There are surfers, sailors, and of course, people playing soccer. Along the shores of the lagoon up to the sea, there are all these charming beach shacks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Later, we discover that we can\u2019t reach the lagoon on foot because the sea water flows in and out of it. I go for a swim while Geertje stays on the beach reading a book. The water is delightful, and there\u2019s so much life swimming and flying around me. Right in front of me, a pelican swims on the waves, a much different sight than in a zoo. I get out of the water, dry off, and take a moment to look around at everything happening. The journey has taken almost the whole day, but it\u2019s wonderful to be here now, with our own house. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We decide to head back to the house to shower and eat at the local place that\u2019s been recommended to us. I check my pocket and realize the key is missing. How could I have done this? I went swimming in the sea without emptying my pockets (which I usually never do, I realize, and it has somehow always worked out). The 2000 francs are still in my pocket, but that\u2019s of no use right now. How are we going to get into the house? Panic starts to creep in a bit. Geertje doesn\u2019t even react very angrily; she shares the same anxious feeling, especially since she\u2019s already having a frustrating day. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

We go to the hotel, and after explaining that we have a bit of a problem, we\u2019re thankfully allowed inside to ask at the reception for the number of our hotel in Eindhoven to look it up and call to ask them to contact Nard, who can then call Ana\u00efs, who in turn can call Serigne. I reach Maud on the line and explain what she needs to do, asking her to call back at the number I\u2019m using once it\u2019s sorted out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After waiting for a bit, I suggest that Geertje stay at the hotel while I check to see if I can get into the house somehow. When I arrive at the house, I see the gardener from the neighbor\u2019s yard standing at the gate, making a call. After a while, he notices me and asks if he can help. I ask if he knows Serigne, but he doesn\u2019t. In fact, he doesn\u2019t know anyone here. Then a white car stops a few houses down, and a woman gets out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I try to get her attention, and it works. She comes over; her name is Pauline. I explain the situation, and she says she knows Ana\u00efs but only has her Senegalese number. However, Ana\u00efs isn\u2019t in Senegal, so that doesn\u2019t help us. Pauline thinks she might be able to get Serigne\u2019s number somehow. I go inside with her; she makes some calls, and we greet her husband, who is sitting on the couch. After the last phone call, we set off. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I get into her car, and we talk about everything except the keys. After one more call, it seems to be all sorted out. We go to the restaurant that was recommended to us, and while we\u2019re chatting with the owner, Serigne arrives. He gets out of the car, grinning widely, with a jingling set of keys in his hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was called almost simultaneously by both us and Ana\u00efs and luckily has a spare set of keys. I hop back into Pauline\u2019s car and ask if we can pick up Geertje. When we arrive at the hotel, it turns out that Geertje has had a great time and made friends. She relaxed by the pool on a sunbed. I introduce her to Pauline, and we drive back home. The gardener has also arrived; he plans to spend the night in the shed at the front of the garden to keep an eye on things. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Less than an hour after I realized the keys were missing, we are back home in peace. We want to eat, and despite Geertje finding the local place we know not very clean-looking, we decide to eat there anyway. It\u2019s cozy, the food is as simple as mentioned, but quite good. I think it\u2019s the best-prepared fish I\u2019ve had so far. What stands out, especially, is the much slower pace of life in the village. We eat and look around at all the things happening at a leisurely pace. A shop owner, who has been dozing in the doorway since this afternoon when we arrived, wakes up and brings in the display case with jewelry. The other shops are also closing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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They probably make their living from sales to hotel guests who occasionally venture out of their resorts to take a walk and buy a typical African souvenir. Further along, people are playing boules on a lit court. We head home, promising ourselves to enjoy the tranquility and do nothing tomorrow. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we wake up, we go grocery shopping, which turns out to be quite a challenge. Once again, we are tricked by a vendor who pretends to own all the shops and ultimately sells us four mangoes that aren\u2019t even his for far too much money. The mangoes and a bag of cashews are what we\u2019ll survive on until evening. We\u2019re not really in the mood for more shopping, especially since the shops are very small and have limited offerings. But these are the tastiest mangoes we\u2019ve ever eaten. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I text Pauline to thank her and see if she\u2019d like to grab a drink together. We agree to meet near one of the older and more beautiful hotels. Pauline knows the bartender and the people who happen to walk by. She is cheerful and energetic, even giving something to a man who clearly doesn\u2019t have much money. Later, she tells me that she gives to whoever she likes, and I realize that it\u2019s much better to brush off requests with a smile and be generous than to act too seriously irritated or angry. The begging is also quite energetic and cheerful! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For some reason, we have so much to talk about. The conversation is lively. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hear that Pauline had a very tough childhood, moved here, met her husband, had children, and now runs a business making and selling bags to tourists. Despite not having an easy life, she is full of life and bursting with energy. I haven\u2019t been able to translate everything, but despite that, Geertje also found it a lovely encounter. In the evening, we go out to eat at a place that Serigne takes us to. He thinks the restaurant Ana\u00efs recommended is too expensive, and this place is just as good. It turns out to be quite disappointing, but as every evening, it\u2019s super cozy with Geertje. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, before heading back to Dakar, we take Ana\u00efs\u2019s advice to visit the Le Memoires Africain gallery. It\u2019s about an hour\u2019s drive along the long coastal road, where everything seems to happen. Once again, it\u2019s wonderful to see so much. The gallery is in an old building, and downstairs there\u2019s a lot of old ethnic African art. The owner\u2019s parents had a large collection of indigenous art, which sparked his love for African art. This collection formed the basis for his art business. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Meanwhile, it\u2019s becoming increasingly difficult to find old indigenous art, so he has also focused on modern art. The gallery, with its upper floors, is spacious, and the exhibitions are beautifully curated. Once again, there are installations that would not be out of place in a museum. Especially striking is how the building has been stripped bare, allowing the art to be displayed in this raw yet tranquil environment. I purchase a small piece by Jean Marie Bruce, a Rastafarian artist who is primarily focused on creating! I discuss with the owner the possibility of collaborating, and he is open to it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Slowly but surely, I realize that while I appreciate typical African art, I\u2019m not fond of the classical style. I find the simplistic works of both old and new art to be the most beautiful. It resembles Art Brut, but it is created by artists who have received formal training. Once we return, we still have enough time to visit the lagoon shacks selling oysters. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Both Serigne and Pauline have insisted that we must try them. It\u2019s not far, but it\u2019s quite warm, and the walk feels long. Geertje finds it tough and wonders if it\u2019s worth it. I enjoy it again and, despite the monotonous route, I see many interesting things along the way. The highlight is two stackable plastic chairs, each consisting of two stacked, sewn-together, and reinforced seats. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

These are little artworks that wouldn\u2019t look out of place on an exam. By the water, there are canopies set up. A gentle breeze blows in from the lagoon, and the tables are covered with tablecloths, adorned with nailed-on plastic decorations. Apparently, there are different vendors here, as the ladies do their best to get us to sit at their table. We choose to sit under the canopy. The ladies come from a village on the other side of the lagoon and have a license to cultivate and sell oysters here. The Senegalese French is even more complicated to understand here, but luckily, there\u2019s a lady who speaks standard French.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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After a conversation, she returns with a platter of everything they have. In addition to the oysters, they have three types of shellfish and langoustines. We order a mix of everything. Surprisingly, they also have beer and soft drinks, so we order a beer, and Geertje wants a cola because it\u2019s said to help when you have a poor appetite and might experience diarrhea. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She isn\u2019t completely at ease with the hygiene at the beach shack. I reassure her that it\u2019s fish that has simply been taken out of the shell and cooked over the fire, so it should be safe. Gradually, the shack fills up, which is a comforting thought. When the first shellfish arrive, Geertje is completely won over. They are shellfish we\u2019ve never encountered before, roasted over the fire, and they have an incredible smoky flavor like we\u2019ve never tasted. They are the best shellfish we\u2019ve ever had, at a beach spot that initially seemed unsettling. I leave a tip, and the ladies are overjoyed. In hindsight, I think they had already charged us too much and didn\u2019t expect to receive a tip as well. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For us, it wasn\u2019t expensive, and it was a fantastic experience overall. Now that the ice is broken, they share all sorts of stories about themselves and their business. The walk back is just as long, but because we are so cheerful, it feels much shorter. In the evening, we need to be back in time because we have tickets to see Cheikh Lo at La Mer \u00e0 Table. I have several of his songs on my playlists, so I\u2019m really looking forward to it. The concert is a bit disappointing, especially since the sound doesn\u2019t get good until halfway through. It\u2019s a bit odd, given that he performs there every Wednesday, so you\u2019d expect it to be routine. The musicians, however, are exceptionally good, and the ambiance with the music is wonderful. Tomorrow, we plan to look for record shops in addition to galleries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Record shops<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By now, we\u2019re getting better at planning where we want to go, and Bassirou understands what we\u2019re looking for. I type the destination into his phone, as it has navigation capabilities. We see a lot of galleries again. The highlight is once again Le Village d\u2019Art, where we explore the rest of the village and discover some beautiful art and artists. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finding the record shops is a bit trickier. The first one is at an address that is hard to find, and when we finally arrive, someone points us to a door, but when we go inside, there\u2019s nothing to see. We try the next address, which is also difficult to locate and turns out to be on the other side of the block. The shop is called Buffalo Soldier Record Store Vinyl. I think the shop is no more than six square meters (about 2 by 3 meters). The soldier sits on a chair with a stereo in front of him, and around him are piles of records. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The records are not stored upright in shelves, which would allow for more to fit and make it easier to browse and categorize. Apparently, the latter isn\u2019t necessary, because when I ask about some artists (Orchestra Baobab, of course, and also Balla et Ses Balladins), he pulls a stack out from a high pile, and the titles are indeed there. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Based on the first records, he pulls out a few more. We listen to the records, which are quite old and scratchy. He thinks they\u2019re fine; they just need to be cleaned, but his cleaning supplies are out. I ask about the price and am surprised. After quite a bit of haggling, they end up being about 40 euros each, which is much more expensive than back home, and the quality is questionable. There are indeed records that aren\u2019t available in Europe, but 40 euros is still too much. He refuses to lower the price. I\u2019m actually fine with that; it was a fun and quirky experience, and I don\u2019t mind not making a purchase. We ask Bassirou to take us back to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon, we stay near the hotel. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Institut Fran\u00e7ais is our main goal; we can have lunch there, and they also have a record shop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

By now, I have a new payment ritual with Bassirou. One of us gets to set the price, and if one of us gets a good deal one day, the other one gets to do so the next day. He\u2019s much better at it than I am and has established a kind of baseline that is already very good. We\u2019re actually quite happy with our regular driver. The Institut Fran\u00e7ais is located in a courtyard, and we have to go through security to enter. Once inside, it\u2019s a lovely place with lots of greenery and a large canopy covering the restaurant. Fans hang everywhere. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s probably very hot in the summer. And there\u2019s a record shop. We decide to eat first, and afterward, I\u2019ll browse and listen to some records. The young man working there is very friendly and knowledgeable about music. I end up buying 3 or 4 records for about 15 euros each. The best one has a piece of paper stuck to the edge of a cover that once got wet and has dried out. I think it should be possible to remove it, so I take the chance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We\u2019ve seen and done so much by now, far from what a typical tourist would do. In Saly, we experienced all sorts of things, but we didn\u2019t see anything of the nature reserve, and in Dakar, we visited dozens of galleries and a few record shops. Almost everyone has told us that we absolutely have to go to Gor\u00e9e Island. The name dates back to the Dutch period when the Netherlands was heavily involved in the slave trade. The small island off the coast of Dakar is named after Goeree Overflakkee and served as a transshipment point for slaves being shipped to America. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bassirou actually wants to join us, but I make it clear that we prefer to be alone on the island. He doesn\u2019t seem to mind too much, and instead of doing something or working, he just waits for us at the harbor. He\u2019ll think he\u2019s working that way too. We buy tickets that are twice as expensive for tourists and discover that we\u2019re not allowed to enter the building afterward. Local passengers and school groups are allowed in, though. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once we\u2019re finally allowed inside, we have to sit in a waiting area first. People are still walking around, apparently heading straight to the boat. At one point, I\u2019m sure we\u2019ve missed the boat and will have to wait for the next one. Geertje is grumpy and wants to leave. I don\u2019t mind much as long as we get there and find it amusing to pay double only to be treated worse. Shortly after, we\u2019re allowed into the terminal, which also has a little shop where we buy something to eat and drink. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gor\u00e9e is just off the coast, but the boat ride through the harbors and a small stretch of sea is quite an experience. Gor\u00e9e is beautiful. The arrival is idyllic; at the foot of the old fort on the beach, a boy is almost naturally playing football against the walls. Not only is the fort still standing, but many of the houses and buildings erected a few hundred years ago are still there. Most are poorly maintained or in disrepair, but those that have been restored have been done so with a sense of history, giving the village an authentic atmosphere. It\u2019s stunning, but on the other hand, the horrific history is strikingly present. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we\u2019re allowed into the museum (which is at set times), we wander through the house of the slave trader and see where the slaves stayed before being taken through a door to the sea. We realize it would have been nicer if the island didn\u2019t have a Dutch name. The exhibition has a lot of text, which I always appreciate, and is beautifully designed. The most striking part for me is the eyewitness accounts of people who are now being exploited\u2014\u201cmodern slavery.\u201d The building is painted in Barrag\u00e1n-like eye-catching colors. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After we exit the museum, we walk through the village. The houses and buildings on the other side of the harbor (which is on the mainland side) are dilapidated. As we continue walking, we see that in the ruins of one of the large buildings, there\u2019s a dump, but also that further along against the old walls of crumbling buildings, huts have been made. It probably would have been less work to put a roof on the ruin or repair it, but they still prefer to make a hut.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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We pass a football field with artificial grass, bleachers, and two goals. No one is playing, in contrast to the sandy area in the middle of the village a bit further on. There are two goals, one of which is half wrapped around a tree, and a large Baobab stands in the middle of the field, around which they seem to be playing. A large group of boys is shooting at the goal on the other side of the tree. We walk on and discover a gallery in the ruins of one of the buildings. I love ruins, so this is a highlight for me. On the outside wall, there\u2019s a sign that says \u201cexposition\u201d with a phone number. In this case, inside is also outside, as the building has no roof, but the walls still stand beautifully upright, and the artist has nailed his work to the walls. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the ground lies the material he works with. Most of the pieces are a kind of primitive masks, which I find the most beautiful. The artist isn\u2019t there, so we move on. Around the corner, more of his work hangs in three window niches. There, we see his name: Djibril Sagna. The island is actually not spoiled at all. Some areas are beautifully and well-restored, while the rest is dilapidated but original. I realize that if you have a lot of money and want to do something good, you just need to figure out what you want or can do, ensure it is restored and exploited, and then sell it to those who will exploit it. This way, it won\u2019t cost anything, and you can do the same somewhere else. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the end of the day, we sail back. Bassirou is lounging in his car. He drives us back to the hotel. In the evening, we go out to eat at Seku Bi again. This is where we had the best food, and the atmosphere is lovely. Right outside, we encounter the French banker again. He\u2019s with a friend who is clearly shaken. She has just narrowly escaped a robbery; she barely managed to hold on to her bag with both hands, and the thief on a speeding scooter ultimately had to let go. I realize now that the day before, a scooter came speeding right at us, and I had told Geertje that I wondered what the man was thinking. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Today is our last day. We leave around noon tomorrow, so we decide not to do too much. Bassirou has offered to take us to the largest fish market in the city. When we arrive, it turns out that it\u2019s not a given that tourists can enter the market. We wait for a while in the car while he tries to arrange it. The first thing we hear is that we aren\u2019t allowed to take photos and that we need to buy fish so we aren\u2019t considered tourists. Bassi manages to sort it out. At the market, I understand why they don\u2019t want photography; it\u2019s enormous, and fish are laid out on wet cardboard on the ground. There aren\u2019t any smooth materials that can be easily cleaned, and ice and water are scarce. At the end of the day, I think everything just gets hosed down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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But it\u2019s beautiful; there\u2019s a wide variety of fish that are cleaned and prepared in different ways. As we walk out from under the enormous concrete roof at the back right, there\u2019s a sort of market with stalls selling dried fish. It\u2019s a stunning sight, and I want to walk over, but I step into a gutter filled with fish liquid and sludge. Geertje and Bassi, who are both wearing flip-flops, jump over the gutter. The strange thing is that Geertje doesn\u2019t seem too bothered by how dirty it is, even though this is by far the most questionable environment we\u2019ve encountered so far. It will take a few days and some cleaning before my shoes stop smelling like fish. The market for dried fish is quite large; every day, all the fish sells out, and what remains is dried, fermented, or otherwise processed. Now we need to buy fish to avoid being considered tourists. Geertje has figured out which ladies she wants to buy from, but we need to find out where they are again. When we locate them, Geertje is thrilled; the money will go to the right place. But what are we supposed to do with the fish? We tell Bassi that we\u2019ll return the fish to the ladies once we\u2019ve passed the porter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He makes an arrangement with the older of the two. So they\u2019ve been paid and will get the fish back. When I discuss this, Bassi explains that they have to give the money to their boss, so the fish they get back is essentially their payment. The lady is very cheerful; accidentally, we\u2019ve done what Geertje wanted. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the way back from the market, we stop by the largest modern museum. There\u2019s a mix of antique, ethnic, and modern art on display, and it\u2019s all very beautiful and inspiring. We spend the rest of the day lounging on the beach and enjoying the sea. It\u2019s Saturday, so it\u2019s much busier than previous days. The lifeguard is struggling with beds and mattresses. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now we see why everyone has a sunbed because at midday, there\u2019s hardly any beach left, and the beds are almost in the water. The crowd is diverse, but the lifeguard keeps a sharp eye on ensuring that no swimmers from the other side of the pier enter his water and beach. At one point, a young woman conspicuously swims under the rope with the balls, heading toward the beach. The lifeguard whistles furiously and walks over to her. She stands up, and with their feet in the water, a heated discussion ensues. She is clearly being very defiant, while he is just doing his job and making sure she leaves. Geertje thinks it makes sense to protect the beach to keep it safe, as there\u2019s a kind of threatening atmosphere everywhere. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I feel much more that at the same moment, it\u2019s both a theatrical performance and real drama. The woman knows it\u2019s not allowed, but she doesn\u2019t want to accept it just like that, and the lifeguard understands her quite well. They are both dark-skinned, and in the end, it\u2019s about inequality between white and black. Nowadays, it\u2019s about rich and poor, but unfortunately, that almost follows the same dividing line. It\u2019s his job to keep things separate, and she has raised the issue. At the end of the afternoon, before we go eat, I want to check in and notice that it\u2019s not working. I take another look at the tickets and see that I made a mistake. We\u2019re not flying at the end of the morning but in the evening. So we have almost a whole day tomorrow. Since we can sleep in, we decide to visit Trames one more time, a gallery with a kind of club restaurant on the roof. The building is located at the edge of Place de l\u2019Independence. From the roof, you have a view over Dakar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s an Italian party, a large group of Italians gradually gathering while we (quite late) are eating. Italians eat later than anyone else here too! A nice guy from the group seems to be the host; he\u2019s playing records on a small turntable with speakers. They crackle a bit, but it\u2019s fun, quirky music, mostly African. He seems to care little about the crackling; perhaps the standards for sound here are different from ours. At one point, I ask him if I can take a look at his records. Soon we\u2019re animatedly chatting about music, his life here, the evening where his girlfriend is the chef, his studies in Wageningen, and how he loves the Netherlands. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I talk to him about the Buffalo Soldier; he tells me that Pharrell Williams once visited him and bought all his records, and since then, they\u2019ve become very expensive. It\u2019s funny because we recently sold the most exquisite table and chairs we\u2019ve ever made to Pharrell Williams! The prices at our place haven\u2019t gone up, though. At one point, his friends come to get him a bit irritated; isn\u2019t he out for the evening with them? We keep finding each other throughout the night. Eventually, two men arrive who he\u2019s had contact with. They\u2019re record dealers from a few villages away, and one of their businesses is buying and reselling records. We start listening a bit, and I feel guilty because they\u2019re essentially trying to sell records to my new Italian friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He says he doesn\u2019t need anything, so I decide to buy a few myself. The manager of the place has walked past a few times and spoken to the record men. Now he comes over a bit angrily and asks if they would like to leave. The men pretend to know nothing, but later I understand that they are very much aware that selling to guests is not allowed. The manager realizes that foreigners in Dakar are often harassed by sellers and feel uncomfortable, and he wants everyone to be able to relax. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I agree with him and thank him for his concern. I\u2019m leaving with a few great records, although I have no idea how they\u2019ll sound. The next day, we take it very easy. We stroll around the center, eat some more, and withdraw money to pay for our last ride. Bassirou, our taxi driver, takes us to the airport. This is the first ride where I know what it should cost. We drive away, and for the first time, the streets are calm. Even the first part heading towards the station, which is usually impassable, is empty. Some stalls are open, but most are closed or completely gone, and there are hardly any people. I ask Bassi where everyone is. He tells me it\u2019s Sunday, so everyone has gone home. Most people have a house outside of Dakar where they stay on Sundays and holidays. So all those people I thought lived on the street actually have homes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

On the plane, the processing of the trip begins. I had hoped that this journey would somehow provide connections to work with African artists and craftsmen. We\u2019ve seen a lot of art and met artists and wonderful people, discovering a few products that could be worthwhile. We met Pauline, and somehow I think and feel that we can collaborate; she understands what drives me. The idea of initiating the \u201cEindhoven Dakar Art and Design Rally\u201d has been born.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cEindhoven Dakar art and design rally\u201d All three of my daughters, as a reward for something they\u2019ve achieved in their lives and truly worked hard for (it can\u2019t be too […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":24,"featured_media":77295,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"advgb_blocks_editor_width":"","advgb_blocks_columns_visual_guide":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[188,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-77296","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nI\u2019ve been to Dakar with Geertje\u00a0 • PIET HEIN EEK<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Piet Hein Eek (1967) graduated from the Design Academy in Eindhoven (NL) in 1990 with his classic scrap wood cupboard. 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Eek has worked together with architect Iggie Dekkers since 2015, designing a range of houses and undertaking architectural redevelopments and other construction projects. 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