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In February Zara's and my parents came to visit us here in Kaolack. It was a lovely week; we got to show them round the place that really has come to feel like home and give them a taste of Senegal's rough-around-the-edges charm. On his return, Dad has made some great facebook posts talking about what they saw and experienced. Since he's done all the hard work for me, I thought I'd just copy them over here and add my two cents. This one focuses on travel around Senegal.
Dad's writing is in italics
The transport system between cities is dominated by the Sept Place cars. These are 7 seater Peugots of varying age from quite old to very old. They run between all the towns. You just turn up at the sept place station and pay for 1 seat (£4 for 250km) (£1 for 40km) as soon as the car is full it goes. Usually you have wait for 5 to 20 minutes. Oh and the seven seater cars mean they are not full until there are 8 people in them. The service is very efficient if a little scary at times. But the service is totally liberating for the population. Everyone who has any money at all (about 60% to 70% of the population) can get around. It is much less intimidating than trying to work out how to buy a rail ticket in the UK.
Sept places are one example among many of extremely efficient markets that operate here in Senegal. As dad says, if you can rustle up a couple of quid, you can get yourself halfway across the country. It's also worth noting that there are slightly less comfortable busses which are cheaper than the sept places. They pretty much don't move if they're not full; if someone gets out, the driver will pick another passenger up off the side of the road to fill their slot and pay the fare. 8 people is a minimum; if your child is small enough to sit on your lap for four hours (let's say under the age of 9), why pay for a seat? They are also commonly used to get things to people in neighbouring towns. Just this week P needed to get a stack of invitations that he'd had printed to his uncle in Fatik (an hour down the road), so he went to the sept place station and asked someone to take them for him. A journey doesn't go by without money or papers or a sack of peanuts or bay leaves being unloaded to a person waiting on the side of the road.
Notice the windscreens are not always immaculate.
If you get one without a crack in the windscreen or a hole in the floor you've got yourself a swanky sept place.
The roads sometimes have potholes. Not all roads are made up. The made up ones are sometimes excellent and sometimes a bit hairy.
Fatik - Kaolack is notoriously bad for (2 foot deep, 6 foot wide, deadly) potholes. They've started to fill them in, which is a little disappointing for Zara and I who enjoyed the drama, but good for the economy and the locals, who definitely find it tedious.
Some of the drivers have an ambitious approach to overtaking, some are more cautious. But you do seem to spend a lot of time on the wrong side of the road for one reason or another.
The first sept place journey was hair-raising, but we've stopped noticing.
There is a lot of rubbish on the road side. The Senegalese think we are mad to carry our rubbish home with us just chuck it out of the window.
But you can always get water and fruit and snacks from road side vendors. Better value than Starbucks.
Make sure you've got the correct change ready, stick your hand out the window/call the sellers over, get yourself some oranges, cashew nuts, water, etc. Everything has a fixed price (more beautiful economic efficiency - many small suppliers, low barriers to entry, fixed prices, sounding like perfect competition anyone?).
The Sept place stations appear chaotic but there is a system. When you arrive you can expect to be approached by lots of people wanting to sell you stuff or offering a taxi ride or kids requesting money. By definition if you can afford to travel you have money.
As we arrive in the taxi it's a case of bracing for impact. Bags closed and ready to go, taximan paid, ready to jump out to get the suitcases out of the boot. As soon as they see toubabs in the car, the crowd descends, hoping to provide you some sort of service for a European-sized tip. Calls of "Fo dem? (where are you going?) Dakar?" "Mbour??" "Thies?!" follow. These are the only three places toubabs could possibly be going. On the return journey to Kaolack someone told me I must be mistaken to want to go there, there are no toubabs in Kaolack. At first the hustle and bustle combined with the fact everyone just knows what to do and that there's no clear signage made the garages quite intimidating, but they're easy enough to navigate once you're used to it. By now we're on friendly terms with a few of the people who work at the Kaolack garage; toubabs are easily recognisable.
The other interesting thing is how many people seem to be involved in taking some of the money you pay. You negotiate your ride with a middle man who you pay and then he shows you a car. Then you try to figure where you will sit. Women in the back, men in the front. The locals are good at bagging the best seats. Then the driver has to pay a fee to leave the sept place station. Then the driver has to pay another fee as he arrives at the destination town. And he has to buy the fuel.
Still got no idea how money gets from the middle man to the driver, or why the middle man is needed. The back of sept place is a bit tight to say the least but unless you're willing to skip out on the first/second car to leave you haven't got much chance of getting a (more comfortable) middle row seat. These are almost always occupied by older, larger ladies, and older men. We spritely youth are more willing to squash three people in a space only suitable for two, and haven't refined our elbowing skills enough to weasel our way into those hallowed middle seats.
The luggage is carried on the roof. This could be bags, a brand new flat screen TV. Furniture, a table football table. Or we even saw one with two live sheep strapped onto the roof rack. The sheep seemed to be enjoying the ride.
Tabaski (biggest festival of the year, involves each family slaughtering a sheep) was a worrying but comical time for sheep-on-roof shenanigans.
There are public busses as well. These usually have women inside and men hanging off the back. I must confess we did not attempt to be that authentic and choose just to view this experience.
While on the dual carriageway in Dakar we saw a man fall off the back of a fast-moving bus. Stayed upright, just looked a little embarrassed. Didn't even lose his flip flops.
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