At 2:30 am the following day, a mere 27 hours after returning home from Sipi, I headed to the Entebbe Airport to catch a 5 am flight to Nairobi en route to visit Katie, one of my closest Princeton friends, in Senegal. Surprisingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for not having gone to sleep I checked in for my flights and arrived smoothly in Nairobi a mere 2 hours later.
Upon arrival I booked it to the Kenya Airways transfer services to get my second boarding pass. As I stood in line for a half an hour I couldn't help but notice the amount of people arguing with the Kenya Airways representatives (apparently the airline had cancelled a flight without informing its passengers) and couldn't help but get annoyed with them as I just needed to get a boarding pass- a two minute long event. Little did I know that I would become one of the causes of annoyance- and a large one at that. When I finally made it to the front of the line I was informed that the airline had decided to give up my seat on the flight to Dakar because they felt like someone "who had been waiting to get to Senegal since Saturday" deserved it more. Enter the daughter my mother raised. Absolutely flabbergasted (and exhausted) I informed George, the poor attendant who happened to call "next," that I was getting on that flight whether he liked it or not. I can say with a reasonable amount of certainty that Kenya Airways had no idea who they were messing with. Silly me, I said, I didn't realize airline seats were given on a "first come, first serve" basis and that my trip to the Kenya Airways office and credit card purchase were unnecessary. As time went on my voice got louder and louder and I definitely began to cause a scene (although not as much as the woman sobbing hysterically next to me). Apparently the Kenya Airways transfer desk bares a striking resemblance to the waiting room of a urologist's office.
Hearing my arguments (as I am sure the entire line of transferring passengers did), a very nice albeit timid gentleman approached me. He introduced himself as Ben, a Ugandan businessman, and explained that the same thing had happened to him. I asked him if he had fought and he asked what the point was. Clearly he was a true African. Being the stubborn American that I am, I refused to accept George's offer of a flight to Ethiopia the next day and continued to scream. To truly prove that I was an American I think I even threatened to sue, arguing that my ticket was a legal contract and Kenya Airways didn't stand a chance. Yes, I may have known this to be a lie but at this point I was desperate. I refused to move and finally somehow got George to get me back on my original flight a half an hour after it was supposed to depart. I even got Ben on the flight. Score one for American perseverance.
A full sprint later Ben and I found ourselves at gate 12, ready to board. The attendants obviously had no clue who we were when we arrived despite our pleas but after a brief 5 minute back-and-forth we managed to get some handwritten boarding passes and a clearance to security. Already a half an hour late, we were surprised to find that the flight hadn’t boarded yet, although not that surprised I guess given the previous occurrences of the morning. We happily took our seats in the waiting room and were pleased to see a Kenya Airways representative stand up and address the crowd a mere five minutes later as we thought our bad luck had ended and it was time to board. Not quite. There was no discussion of boarding. Instead the woman in the red uniform informed the crowd that due to some balancing issues all checked luggage would not be arriving into Dakar until Saturday (five days later). Luckily my knowledge of the character of African travel had caused me to carry-on, however the same could not be said for Ben. Or the three very large Senegalese men who decided to stand up and protest very loudly in French. Not soon after a full riot occurred with the African passengers yelling, running and generally causing chaos in the very small gate. It was at this moment that I started to smile for this is when I truly knew that I LOVE Africa. Anywhere else I would have been horrified and disillusioned but instead I found myself feeling a combination of amused and incredibly happy. There was simply nowhere else I would have rather been. Even when my flight (not full by the way as I had an entire row to myself making me seriously wonder what all the drama was about) took off three hours later after Kenya Airways managed to coax the last three rioters into their seats I wasn’t upset. To me, this was the perfect beginning to the perfect trip.
I was not disappointed when I arrived in Dakar, either. Right on the beach, the city was the perfect antidote to Kampala’s one weakness: being landlocked. Just the smell of the ocean soothed me. Yes, the Hudson River may not be the most charming of all bodies of water but somehow growing up on an island has made me believe that I cannot permanently live in a landlocked nation (or state for that matter). I need some water. Helping my mood was the fact that Katie and I stayed in her friend Amanda, a U.S. State Department employee’s, apartment which was like stepping into a different world with its real mattresses (mine is made of foam), air conditioning and 360 degree shower. Even Katie’s apartment, while more similar to my standard of living, had its own charm as it was a short 2 minute walk fro
m the ocean. The ocean also meant lots of delicious seafood in addition the the incredibly flavorful local fare- another happy surprise and departure from my bland mataoke and stew. My only gripe about it was the expense: Dakar is three times as expensive as Kampala which got old VERY fast.
In terms of what I did while in the city, unfortunately Katie had to work so I spent most daysfollowing Lonely Planet's suggestions. The first day as riots engulfed the center of the city(what is it with my travel luck?) I headed to a remote beach island on the city outskirts withmy book (picture below).
The next day (Thanksgiving) I went to Ile de la Goree, a supposed former slave stowaway. While incredibly touristy, the island was absolutely gorgeous and very fun to explore (picture below).
That evening was spent back at Katie's friend Amanda's where we enjoyed a proper Thanksgiving dinner complete with Stove Top stuffing, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole and even pumpkin pie. It was scrumptious.
My final days in Senegal were spent out of Dakar and in the Northern part of the country- first at Lampoul, a sand dune resort in the desert, and then St. Louis, a former colonial haven. Lampoul was absolutely beautiful. Reminiscent of Namibia, the night there included traditional drummers, camel rides and Mauritanian-style tents. While beautiful, I found St. Louis rather depressing as it mostly consisted of rundown colonial buildings and offered a constant reminder of what Westerners have done to Africa: conquered and abandoned it. Still, our "chariot" ride in a horse drawn carriage was fun (minus Katie's allergies) as was the charming hotel we stayed in. I have added some pictures below.
After the night in St. Louis it was back to Dakar in a seven passenger Peugeot station wagon (the Senegalese version of a bus) and straight to the airport as the time had come for me to return to Kampala. I am happy to report that the flight back was far less eventful than the flight there and I was able to go straight from the airport to the office the next morning. All in all, a fabulous trip.
