Arriving at Dakar airport at the same time as a couple of other flights, I wondered briefly why I had got so excited about a trip back 'home'. But I quickly slipped back into the Senegalese way, slowly and patiently pushing my way through the crowd, marvelling at the good nature of the people here as many potential arguments were quickly diffused by someone with a sense of humour. 90 minutes to get to passport control - 90 minutes to remember, as if I could forget, why I love West Africa.
I arrived during the latter part of the rainy season, a period I always found difficult when I lived here, but after the 90% humidity of Panama it felt quite comfortable. Large parts of the city had been without running water for three weeks though as the government failed to deal promptly with a broken pipe. Thankfully my hotel was in the lucky half of the city, but riots had broken out in some of the suburbs so I was pleased when it was fixed. A marabout attended the site of the break and sacrificed three cows - one white, one red and one black - to ensure that the problem didn't recur.
Then with the water supply assured, the shepherds and their sheep started to come into town, more and more sheep filling any spare few inches of ground, on sale to fulfil the need for every Muslim household to slaughter a sheep at the festival of Tabaski. Of course it would be disrespectful to Allah to sacrifice any but the best sheep you can afford, so there were sheep almost as big as donkeys on sale, the most expensive coming in at some $4,000 a head. Those finding it hard to scrape together enough to buy even one of the cheapest sheep get desperate for money, and wandering around town is hard work, fending off the would-be guides and salesmen of tourist tat. Apparently the risk of being pickpocketed is much higher during this period.
But still, it's good to be back. Despite the demands of the work I managed to fit in two musical evenings, Souleymane Faye and Vivian N'dour at Just4U (an excellent night, thankfully, as I hadn't really warned my colleagues that it might not end until after 4am!), and Baaba Maal at the French Cultural Centre, his ngoni player pictured above. A visit to the hairdressers too ($100 cheaper for highlights than in Panama), and to my old tailor, and of course to the friends I left here. A quick trip to the fish market at Soumbedioune, journeys around town in battered old taxis and even more battered public transport - but above all just being here. Feeling at peace to be here, and hoping that over time I can find that same feeling, somehow, in my new Latin American home.
