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 | 9 january lac rose to palmarin, sine saloum The manager of the Bonaba Cafe is desperate for us to invest in his campsite. It does need a lot of investment, we can see that plainly having spent a couple of days here. We’re a little bit tempted at first, but the feeling passes and we decide to move on. We’ve seen both ends of the Grande Cote, at St. Louis and at Lac Rose. As on most of the Atlantic coast, wind and big waves are almost permanent fixtures of the seaside. To-day we drive down along the Petite Cote, south of Dakar, stopping for lunch in Poponguine, a most incredibly beautiful village right beside the sea. And what a sea. Shimmering, lazy, softly lapping against the golden sand of the almost deserted beach. There’s very little wind here and it’s clear why the Petite Cote is such a popular tourist destination. The beach is beautiful. There’s a plot of land for sale just by the beach front. “Do you know how much?”, I ask the owner of the house next door. “They’re asking for £5,000” (11,000 CAD). We’re so, so tempted! We walk back up the short hillside and eat the best meal we’ve probably had since leaving Bordeaux, overlooking the sea and feeling like a couple of holiday makers over for a couple of weeks from Europe. Wow. We press south to Mbour and pass quickly on south past Joal-Fadiout as well. Both are on the tourist trail and have established “welcoming committees”. We’re planning to stay a few days at what the Lonely Planet calls a “superb” campement in Djiffer, right on the point at the northern edge of the Saloum delta. We’re in national park territory. Lovely beach on one side, wetlands on the other and plenty of bird life, baobabs, palm trees and lizards on the peninsula between the two. Campements are springing up like mushrooms in a damp Yorkshire wood. 13 at last count. The road is bad, but it’s gradually being tarmac’d so the tourists can get here more easily. It’s a shame as it’s great fun bouncing along in the Landy, red dust billowing behind. Djiffer is a tip, rubbish all over the village and the beach. Yuk. We stick our noses into the campement we’d come to see, but decide to head back up the road to the one we’d visited earlier in Palmarin that has a great beach. Djidjack “Village de Vacances” was set up by Jean-Paul and Graziella, a French/Swiss couple, four years ago and it’s a haven of calm; or would be if it wasn’t for the nosiy, noisy birdlife. The centrepiece of the site is a 22 metre diameter Case a Impluvium - a type of building you’d normally find in Casamance to the south. An Impluvium is the traditional village meeting place, round, normally without exterior windows and with an open roof in the centre to let light and the rain in (a source of water if the village is under siege and every-one holed up in the Impuvium). It’s a magnificent building - have a look at www.djidjack.com. Overlander info: The campsite side of things isn’t totally up and running yet. Jean-Paul has still to finish the facilities (washing-up area and clothes washing), but there is a toilet/shower block. There’s also a bit of a farmyard feel to the campsite, stuck between the horses and the pigs! Djidjack is going to be in the new Guide des Routard 2006 for Senegal and the new Lonely Planet (April ‘06) so they are keen to finish the camping side part of the site shortly. Camping is 2,000 CFA/person. Bungalows 20,000 CFA/night. GPS : N 14°01.478 W016°46.093. 10 january, beach!
11-12 january, in bed in a bungalow There’s a fever going around and Marie-Jo has caught it. Headache, aching bones, tiredness, nausea, loss of appetite. As these are similar to the initial symtoms of Malaria, she starts a course of Doxy just in case. There’s nothing for it but to take to a bed and wait for the fever to pass. We check in to a bungalow for a couple of days and Marie-Jo spends the time in bed, reading and sleeping. Even my best vegetable and pasta soup doesn’t seem to help. 13 january. better. palmarin to kaffrine MJ’s temperature has dropped to 37 degrees. Feeling well enough to get up and ready to move on, we pack up and start heading east. Our long drive south from Yorkshire is over for the moment as we head east now towards Bamako and Mali. At lunchtime, we turn off the main road and drive into Fatick looking for a restaurant. Lasiga is just opening the shutters of her restaurant when we pull up. Restaurant might be a grand word to describe her shack by the roadside, but it’s a nicely presented shack and Lasiga has a welcoming smile. As we’re still in the middle of the Tabaski holiday (see below) and most shops are shut, the choice is a touch limited as to what is on the menu. Expecting lamb, we end up with a nice, hot beef and salad sandwich with chips. The Tabaski, or L’Aid-el-Kebir or Festival of the Sheep, is one of the biggest Muslim festivals. It celebrates Abraham’s acceptance of God’s wishes that he sacrifice his son, Isaac. Muslims sacrifice a sheep in recognition of this. Tabaski is a festival celebrated at home with the whole family and most definitely not a good time to be a sheep! We drive through Kaolack and onto Kaffrine, where we stop in the courtyard of the Catholic Mission. Father Mario from Sicily kindly lets us stay for the night. We chat to the family of the guard - Sidiky. His youngest of 9 children is with him, very quiet and ill looking. He has a fever, but prefers to be out playing in the street than in bed resting. Sidiky has taken him to the hospital to have a blood test to see if he has malaria, but the doctor is on holiday until tomorrow, so he’ll have to wait. We give him some mango juice and insist he goes to bed. His eldest son is also with him and seems to like Yorkshire tea! Sounkalo is 21 and at university. He doesn’t want to leave Senegal (unlike a younger brother) but has no idea what he’s going to do after he’s got his diploma as there are no jobs. He tells us that kids at the local school have gone on strike because there are 60 to a class, a teacher is handing out unjust punishments to the pupils and they are also angry that the state that has promised them a separate secondary school for the last 4 years still haven’t built it. For the moment, the primary and secondary schools are in the same building. As for Sidiky, he drinks his tea with 5 lumps of sugar and smiles a very toothy grin. He begs us to take the son who wants to leave the country with us. He asks us to invest in his import-export business. He asks us if we have any spare books or maps to give him. He also gives us the contact details of his whole family still living in Mali (as his father emigrated to Senegal from Mali in 1959). 14 january. kaffrine to tambacounda We wake in the night to a large cloud of mosquito’s swirling loudly above our heads just the other side of the tent mesh. Urgh. We both make a mental note to put the mosquito net up in the tent as well as a second line of defence. In the morning, Sidiky is there to wish us good morning. He asks us to buy him a sack of rice. We give him some money. We drive east again. Past a long line of Lisbon-Dakar rally cars, trucks and bikes coming in the other direction. We’re glad we didn’t stop to see them arrive at Lac Rose. They flash through the villages along the road without slowing down, dust billowing behind them, forcing donkeys and carts off the road. Every-one is out to see them come past, waving and shouting “Paris” and/or “cadeaux” at them as they whizz by. They look at us in confusion. “You’re going the wrong way!” written on their faces. The little kids scream “Paris” at us anyway. Near Tamba we pass the end of the stage point and pull over to have a look. Everything is pretty much over for the day. As I get out of the car, kids mob the car, trapping MJ inside. Her window is still open and they won’t let her wind it up. They grab at whatever they can through the window. I return to the Landy to find Marie-Jo sitting there holding her rape alarm in her hands. It’s screeching it’s high pitched screech. The kids have snatched for it and pulled out the cord! MJ throws it out the window and we beat a hasty retreat back to the road. The Paris-Dakar: noisy, fast cars and a crowd of aggressive demanding kids. We pull into Tambacounda and decide it’s time to chill. After some 10 weeks on the road, we feel like a bit of R’n’R in a nice hotel. Le Relais de Tamba fits the bill perfectly. Aircon, hot shower, swimming pool, TV in the room, even WIFI. Perfect. Taking (delayed) advantage of a perfectly thought out Christmas present from Mark’s family, we check in for a few days.
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