The Walk to Edioungou

January 20, 2009

We took the main road past the market in Oussouye, walking along rice fields vibrant with colorfully clad harvesters. Soon we found ourselves turning onto red dirt roads, with playful goats bleating cheerfully at one another. We passed huge areas of bright red bissap flowers, a tart local plant, chock-full of vitamin C like hibiscus and used to make a ruby red juice. The sun beat down hot upon our heads and we paused in some tall grass, inhaling the scent of fresh mint. Finally we came upon one of the little ’boutiques’ locals depend on in the absence of supermarkets. These are basically tiny convenience stores, about as big as closets, that sell virtually EVERYTHING in tiny (hence affordable) quantities, from a single scoop of sugar or vegetable oil or vinegar sold in a plastic bag to a single egg. They are in complete contrast to the bulk- or family-sized quantities American families love to stock up on in places like Costco’s – the Senegalese have neither storage space nor, quite frequently, the electricity they would need in order to keep anything perishable for longer than a day. We were delighted to stumble upon the boutique and have a cold drink, although when the big eyes of the children are upon you, you inevitably hand over your half-finished bottle (in case some of my more hygiene-obsessed readers are wincing, there is absolutely NO squeamishness here about sharing cups or bottles with virtual strangers, not even toubabs!) because of the pure joy that lights up the children’s faces at even such a small gesture of kindness.

In the Lonely Planet guide, we had read about a gorgeous place to stay and/or eat just nearby called the Campement des Bolongs. We had to ask our way through, and one young boy pretty much led us by the hand, as it was in a fairly secluded location at the water’s edge. It was well worth the trek, however, as we got to lounge in hammocks on an enormous deck overlooking the mangroves, sipping bissap with mint while awaiting our lunch. Our starter was the most generous serving of shrimp I have EVER gotten anywhere, and they must have known I was a garlic lover, because these exquisite beauties were seasoned perfectly to my taste. For dessert, we were each treated to half of a miniature pineapple, plus a memorable view of all the neighborhood children congregating rapturously in front of the lodge’s TV set.

Upon leaving the inn, we had one mission still to accomplish: we had been looking everywhere to find someone who made real batik. Batik is frequently made by locals only upon advance order, as it is such a time-consuming process. It is hard to find even in fabric stalls unless you ask for it specially and seem knowledgeable into the bargain, otherwise the sellers may try to coax you into buying some machine-made imitation. Just down the road from Les Bolongs, near a small church, in one of the most unlikely places you could think of, we finally found a teacher of the art who had about 2 yards to sell, which I was happy to have. He was a native of Gambia who was teaching the local nuns his craft, which he had picked up during his travels to Mali. We learned this (as we did many other things) over steaming little cups of strong tea – he was over the moon to have encountered another native speaker of English, and was a charming and hospitable host into the bargain. We finished our impromptu tea party by having a little fun at the expense of the local kings of the region – those next in line to accede to the ‘throne’ frequently run away as they dislike the constraints imposed by the position, and must in fact often be rounded up in order to have their kingship thrust upon them.

As we trekked sweatily back to our lodgings smelling a bit of mildew, I reflected just how lucky I was not be in any imminent danger of having an unwanted African queenship thrust upon me…!

 About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dakar, Senegal, where she is supposed to be teaching but is doing far more learning, as you will see by reading her blog at www.senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com