Just finished a Strategic Planning meeting with a diverse group of parents, teachers and students on a special Saturday meeting at school. I wanted to note a few of my impressions on the bike ride home.
I leave the property of the school and immediately there are people sitting around. There are often people sitting around in Dakar. Mostly, they are either guards, friends of guards (if male) or propriaters of small stalls / small overturned boxes trying to sell something.
I bike a short distance down a bumpy paved road and take a right as I hit the main coastal road. About 1 out of 4 cars are painted yellow and black - the official taxi color. Almost all of them are in bad repair but move along quite nicely. Besides those taxis, the rest of the cars are, for the most part, nice shape and newer models. I ride along this coastal road for about 1 block.
I pass one stall that has a variety of local food - mostly kinds of nuts. I stopped there several times for her sugared peanuts between my generally crummy health and the time she hand-ladled the peanuts into a whisky bottle without first washing her hands, I've decided the treat is not worth the risk.
A bit further up the road is a new wall. This wall surrounds a large housing complex that, I have been told, was finished several years ago but still not occupied. For several weeks, as I walked home with the kids, we watched the men first make the cement bricks (about 1 minutes per brick for 2 guys working) then dig a foundation then lay the wall. Now, the wall has been plastered and we can't see inside.
I quickly crossed the only major road between school and our house, passed a few more vendors squeezed onto the sidewalk, and was on the main side road. This secondary road is in bad repair but is generally covered with pavement. I slowed and watched the continual progress of a building that was, when we got here, only 1 story tall. It is now 6 stories tall. Every bit of cement or cement block has been lifted up the building by a guy pulling on a rope. Lucky for them, they do have a big machine in site for actually mixing the cement.
I turn right at the outside edge of the junk yard and am greeted by that most iconic of African scenes - a woman in brightly colored clothing carrying a large basket on her head. We see this on a regular basis. I want to take a photo but can't think of a good way to pull it off.
I decide to cut down a dirt side road. The middle of the road is solid earth that is a mix of dirt and construction debris. I used to wonder how ancient cities would be built upon other, even more ancient cities. Now, I watch the general process of construction debris and understand. If you don't have a truck to haul garbage away, anything you can get rid of by piling on the road is fair game. Over the years, the road slowly gets tall and taller and the buildings, I assume, follow suit.
I notice some men painting a new house. I see one man on a short step ladder. I see a second man on a tall ladder that is tied well with a series of ropes in the middle of the two extension sections. He is working on the 2nd floor. I look higher and see another man working on the 3rd floor on a different extension ladder. I soon realize that his ladder is suspended from the second floor. He is very high up and has no safety equipment.
I notice this lack of safety equipment. I see many expats in their nice cars with extra kids, unbuckeled inside. We are willing to put our own family into taxis with unknown drivers and no seat belts. It is interesting that part of the reason as a family we use our safety devices is that we know they are safer. Part of the reason (and lacking here in Dakar) is that we use them so as to not get in trouble.
I put my attention back to biking and quickly my attention goes to the sand. We are in the end of the dry season, which means we are in the middle of the windy season. Sand is constantly shifting on the roads of the neighborhoods just like mini-dunes on the desert. For construction projects, sand is simply dumped on the street in front of the house and inevitably, not all of the sand is used and some is either left or blows away to collect somewhere else. I my ride home, I have to dismount about 5 times and walk a few steps because of the deep sand.
I get back on my bike and am greeted by 4 large cows slowly walking down the street. There is no obvious owner near by nor obvious marking (brand, collar) on the cows, but they for one seem to know what they are doing.
As I near the house, I pass several dogs lying on the street. One female is obviously the mother of several litters and they all look the worse for the wear. This said, they never give the slightest notice to me or my bike. They are well socialized if not well cared for.
I reach my house and our regular guard is not there. Instead, two local guys, one a high school kid I have seen around and another is the day guard for a house just up the street, are sitting on our little stoop. One of them, I know, has the key to our parking space, should I want to bother him to open the door. I call down the street to another guard we are more familiar with and he answers that our guard is out to get some coffee. This is not unual since Joseph is taking the week shift. I do not mean the day shift. Joseph will be sitting or sleeping in front of our house for about 5 days straight.
And that is my ride home.
