Le Carre Rapide

After a few interesting experiences with public transportation recently, I thought it only fitting to make a post about the carre rapide. If you have been keeping up you should know that my taxi on Tuesday evening broke down midway to my house and the driver had to push us to a nearby gas station. Well, I’ve just been weary of all public transportation now. 

Taxis are yellow and black here!

Plus, I didn’t take a carre this morning but the bigger white bus - Ndiaga Ndiaye. It was quite a risky drive – once the bus completely stopped in the middle of the road – this may be happening too often to me lol. I was right behind the driver’s seat and I could tell he was cursing at the bus. It seemed to me that he was also having gear trouble because when people were tapping on the bus to get off at their stop, he was hitting the gear stick (not gently pushing it) quite a couple times before the bus would come to a stop. Luckily, I got out of that bus at my stop safe and sound. Tsk tsk tsk, public transportation here.

This is how the inside of the bigger white buses look - empty version haha

No matter what happens, I still need to take some form of public transportation – there is only so much walking I can do (Today I walked 40 minutes to Wolof class in another part of town).

I work at an orphanage, La Poupponiere de La Medina, run by Franciscan sisters just a few minutes’ drive from where I live with my host family. The first week that I worked, my host mom carried me to work and picked me up because she was on the roads at those times. But for the last two weeks, I wasn’t so lucky. It was time to learn the streets of Dakar and take public transportation.

I could always take a taxi to and from the orphanage, but on a student budget (unknowingly, I did not request enough taxi funds from Grinnell) I decided to take a cheaper alternative: The Carre Rapide.

Can you spot the carre?

  

When I first heard “carre”, I thought it was a car - maybe like an unofficial taxi. Nope. They are actually buses and named “rapide” for their speed. I don’t quite agree with the speed aspect, because taking a taxi takes a much shorter time but let’s go with the theme.

These buses are very interestingly coloured to say the least with yellow paint and writing all over in bright hues of red and blue. If just the outside of the bus isn’t enough to intrigue you – try getting inside.

Yellow and Blue Carre - They usually have the words "Transport En Commun" on the sides

These buses were first used to carry market goods from the villages to the markets, but now carry human passengers. There is only one entrance at the back of the bus, which is always open. The swinging door is held by a rope so it doesn’t swing a full 180 degrees into oncoming traffic.

There will always be one or two Senegalese teenagers or men called “apprenti” in Wolof who hang on to the bus from the back of the door. They are the ones who do the ‘marketing’ by whistling to pedestrians and calling out the final destination for the carre to attract those who need to go there or have a stop before.

An apprenti hanging from the back of the carre

There is no need to fear a carre rapide – just hop on from the back and take a seat – if it is full, hang on for dear life to the railing above (no biggie). If the carre is full, the driver doesn’t wait very long for those embarking or disembarking so you are jerked as soon as you step in. Looking down isn’t a very good start as you can often see the road through the little holes in the floor boards. After all, this isn’t luxury travel but the ply will do enough to keep you in the carre itself – so who cares?

The real fun is sticking your head through the windows, that is if you are lucky enough to get a seat. If you manage to squeeze in at a window seat at that – then feel free to stick your head out. There is no glass – not sure if there ever used to be, but none of the windows have glass, just the bare window. It is much better to get fresh air from outside – maybe not so fresh, with all the fumes of the many vehicles on the main road – but there is always some sea breeze in circulation.

Also the back is a great spot for some breeze because the door is always open ;)

Apart from the heat as a result of the general climate of Dakar, taking a carre rapide is really not that bad. It is pretty entertaining in fact. It is very important to know where your stop is and so it forces you to get to know the streets of Dakar.

To disembark, they are things in Wolof that people say – exactly what that is I don’t know. I usually just poke the apprenti or mumble to the apprenti “Je veux descendre” hoping he understands my French, or more commonly just make a gesture pointing outside. This has worked for me so far, so I am quite pleased with my management of travelling by carre rapide. When the carre stops, or better yet when the carre slows down, you better hop off before it speeds off again.

Perfect example of a man hopping off a carre

Yes, the bus is terribly rickety but many people take it all the time and they survive – I’ve done it too and I am alive to tell the tale. Just have your money ready – 100CFA coin usually covers my travel – not that you’ll need it to enter. You can enter without paying, but after the apprenti comes around and asks for the money, usually in Wolof, I just give him the coin and say my destination. It is always best to have the exact change, because they don’t like to give change to those who look like they don’t know the cost of their trip. I try my hardest to look all Senegalese and put on my don’t-mess-with-me stare and all… but my complexion and inability to understand Wolof is usually a hint that I am just a foreigner. Apart from the one hostile experience with the apprentis who were insisting I travel in their carre, I haven’t had much problems, more often, just questioning stares.

This was a very happy me the first day I tried The Carre Rapide and the Ndiaga Ndiaye

Yes, yes, my mode of transport – Trust me, the idea of taking this bus alone was so peculiar at first, I can hardly believe it is my regular mode of transport now J haha.

From the Beach to a Wedding..

This morning started off early at 7:30 when I went out for my morning walk with my host mom. We were walking in the direction of the Ouakam this time (the fishing town I had walked to earlier on) so I made sure to bring my camera despite my ‘walking gear’. The walk only took about 20 mins and we descended these really long stairs to go down to the beach. 

At the beach after the walk - we walked back to house afterward for class

What I really like about the Senegalese is how much they exercise – exercise is the way to go! On such a busy main road, you are bound to see people in jogging gear and Ouakam is a great spot for other exercises – I’ve seen people doing karate and resistance exercises on the beach. I hope I stay motivated to keep walking, at least… I eat so much here, don’t need to gain any more weight.

Ouakam!

After work today (no pics, sorry), Anna and I were taking a carre to my house to get ready for a wedding! If only things were that simple. When I was walking to a particular carre, one of the apprentis (the men who solicit customers for the carre driver and collect the fare) of another carre blocked my way. In trying to pass him, he continued to block me and started holding on to me in order to push me to his carre instead. I’ve taken the carre for 2 weeks now and I can manage quite fine – but this behaviour was so surprising to me. Plus, the fact that he held us up for 5 minutes like that – I was so mad I wasn’t even speaking in French – I thought it was unreal. But Anna was there too, and altho she is less experienced with carres she knew a NO meant NO and that this apprenti and some others weren’t getting it. He finally let us go and left us alone but by that time the other carre we were heading to was full and started moving off. We turned around to take another carre – and would you believe that the apprenti believed that we were going to take his carre which was half full after all that harassment. No, we continued to a completely empty carre altho we had to wait for that carre’s apprenti to find enough passengers before we were on our way. WORST CARRE RAPIDE EXPERIENCE. EVER.

A carre rapide and an apprenti hanging on to the back of the carre - But this was a different apprenti, not the one who harassed me

Anyway, on a happier note…  getting ready for the wedding.

I borrowed traditional clothes from my host sister, Coumba, and Anna (from La Pouponniere) wore a dress from my other host sister, Colle. 

We ladies took quite a while to get ready – after all, it was prepping for a wedding. I must say we looked lovely - Me (left), Coumba (middle) and Anna (right)

Earlier in the day I really had no idea whose wedding we were going to – just the fact that I was going to a traditional Senegalese wedding was enough. On the way to the wedding I discovered that the bride was a neighbour when my host family had lived in another house.

The bride and the groom - Vive Les Maries !

Although we arrived minutes after 8, it wasn’t too late – After all, weddings are a whole day affair here. When we arrived, the house (we were at the family house of the bride) was full. My host mom knew everyone it seemed, so we were being introduced to family and friends and even the bride and groom themselves.

The funniest part of the evening began when Anna and I were standing up against a wall while my host mom was speaking with a few friends. A lady came and dropped 2000 CFA (The Senegalese currency here: US$1.00=505 CFA… last time I checked anyway) into Anna’s arms. Anna and I as foreigners were very confused and when trying to ask what was happening, the lady was responding in Wolof and the only French she would say was “Donne-moi” (means ‘Give me’). Of course, Anna tried to give the lady back the money but she was refusing it. I then noticed she had more money stashed in her hand.

So confused, I turned to my host mom who was now looking on at what was happening. However, she didn’t share my perplexed look, she was just laughing and simply said “She’s a griot, but just give her back the money”. It turns out that these griots come to these traditional weddings and sing praises for the families of the bride and groom and then demand money from the wedding guests. It may sound totally strange but it is an acceptable thing as many people give the griots a lot of money at these weddings for their services.

The same griot tried to get my host mother to give her money and my host mom was speaking in Wolof to her and laughing. She pretended to search her bag for money and then gestured that she found nothing, hence she returned the money without her own monetary gift.

My host mom (right) and the griot (left)

I thought it was done but there wasn’t just one griot. I was totally unsuspecting when another lady, griot in fact, dropped 5000 CFA in my lap. I laughed hysterically and quickly returned the money shaking my camera to suggest that was all I had (which was true).

We also got to eat at the wedding. The bride’s youngest brother brought us all a packaged meal of finger food and a drink which was given to pretty much all the guests (Must have been a lot of food to last through the day). Plus we all got parting gifts - the wedding hosts do most of the giving here it seems.

A little gift bag of candy and pastry - yum

I think from what we saw at the wedding, it was pretty fun altho we didn’t have the full experience. Traditions here are definitely different from back home, but that’s the fun of it all.

Until next time J

La Pouponnière

Today I went to work.. as usual – I work 5 days a week at the orphanage (La Pouponnière). But today was special – wanna know why? Because I got to take pictures with permission of the sister.. yay finally!

My host sister and her friend also accompanied me to work today and they had a great time volunteering with the babies also!

A day at work usually looks like this for the morning/afternoon shift:

1.  Bathing the babies
2. Taking them to the playroom
3.  Playing with them/trying to stop them from crying
4.  Feeding the babies
5.  Changing the babies
6.  Putting them to bed

Here are some of the babies in the playroom - some fast asleep

  I work with the youngest babies from 0-6 months and I have a few favourites :) My future husband Cheikh is quite the charmer and my other babies are Ismael, Pierre and Pascale. 

    Although not all the babies are orphans, they're parents/relatives don't have enough money to support their early years - that's where we come in as volunteers and donors. Formula can be very expensive!

    The twin girls, Ousseynatou and Assantou – oh they are so adorable. Altho they cry all the time, I can’t help but love them. 

    Today the most awkward thing happened when I was feeding a baby girl, not yet a month old. I was feeding her for almost 30 mins from her little bottle. It was only when I started to burp the baby that I realised that the bottom of my work top was wet and then the top of my jeans. O.O Little baby Awa had peed on me and I hadn’t even noticed cause I had been holding her for such a long time.

Here is the little culprit. But I couldn't even be mad at the cute little thing.

All in all, I love my job at the orphanage - it's fun but it's a lot of work!

An Evening Out for IceCream AND THEN SOME...

At La Poupponiere, I met another young volunteer as myself, from France - Elle s'appelle Anna :) I thought it would be fun if we hung out after work – so the plan was to go for icecream in CentreVille at a big glacerie and then have dinner with my host family. As I said, that was the PLAN.

We left work and took a bus thing, it wasn’t a carre but it was the same fare. These buses are bigger than the carres but just as untrustworthy looking. We were travelling to a location that neither of us had ever visited, but hey it was all part of the adventure right?!

The apprenti tried to rob us when I gave him our fare (I believed it to be 100CFA for each of us as I usually pay the same to go home), but the other people in the bus shouted things at him in Wolof (in our defence I suppose) that I even ended up getting change for the ride. Mid-drive the bus emptied and we had to switch buses, so we had to run to hop onto the next bus which refused to slow down. When that bus stopped we were in the middle of a market, with no idea where to go.

This is Marche Sandaga in CentreVille, Dakar 

About to ask a vendor on the road, a man came up to us and asked if we needed help. I think his name was Mabengue or something like that (let’s call him M) – he became our tour guide as he guided us through precarious streets and vendors only too eager to sell us their wares.

We found the icecream place and were only too happy to choose from so many lovely flavours. It was so good! We both had an ‘American Cornet’ with two flavours. M waited for us patiently and spoke to us in either French or English (He speaks French, English and Spanish).

This icecream was too good!

After M took us around – literally to see the market - Marche Sandaga. It was much more than we bargained for! We went to where the craftsman where making their wooden crafts and viewed the process and many beautiful finished pieces.

The Senegalese vendors didn't mind us taking pictures, but they always wanted to be in them too!

 We visited other stores and saw lovely African cloth and clothes and bags and tablecloths and just about everything one could possibly make with such cloth. 

This is M showing off a robe in his store - all part of the marketing

We also viewed art made from different coloured sand and other tapestries. We were all very good friends of the vendors who promised they would sell to us at a very good price because we were “amis”.

Anna and I in one of the magasins :)

Before long, it was already dark and we had to return to my house for dinner. However, our dear friend M didn’t understand that we had to go. We were on Senegalese time and so it only got later and later as photos were requested of us in each vendor’s store. Finally, we walked out to take a carre to my house – but we found no luck – all the carres going in that direction were already full. So after another long time waiting in a bustling crowd we decided to just take a taxi. Thinking that our adventures were done for the night, we agreed on a price with the taximan (one has to do that here or they will expect you to pay an exorbitant fee at drop-off) and were on our way to my house.

2/3 of the way there the car started sputtering.(I must say even taxis aren’t maintained too well – so cheap and more expensive ways of transport all seem a bit risqué in the end.) Well, suddenly the taxi stopped – in the middle of the road. The taximan ended up pushing us in the car (with the help of people he enlisted on the road) to a nearby gas station.

Yes, I took a pic of the taximan steering our broken down taxi lol

 He didn’t want to lose us as customers and told us to wait as we could be pushed the rest of the way because it wasn’t too far. Really now? It was too much too handle and it was already 9 o clock. We ended up paying him 2/3 the fee and found another taxi home.

When we finally reached Mermoz, I introduced my family to Anna and we had a good dinner recounting the events of the evening. Haha, so much for an evening just for icecream – oui, c’est la vie! – a Dakar!

Hey there,

My name is Chantelle Dallas. Maangi tudd Madina Tall (in Wolof). I have a Senegalese family and they renamed me 'Madina' so that I have a Senegalese name too! My family is Muslim and I live with my host mom, two host sisters and the maid. My family is really great and they feed me a lot - literally. Not that I mind too much.

Me about to enjoy a mango that an old lady vendor gave me for free when I was with my host mom. Mangue de pomme - Delicious!

After settling in with the family, I had to get to the meat of the matter - my projects here in Dakar. For those who may be wondering what exactly am I doing in Dakar this summer... Well, it's pretty simple. I am volunteering and getting language training as funded by a Fellowship from my school, Grinnell College. 


I work at an orphanage for kids between 0 and 12 months. The orphanage is called La Poupponiere de La Medina. It is a Catholic run organisation. I work with the youngest ones, from 0-6 months and they are so adorable! You can check out the orphanage here: http://www.dakarpouponniere.com/en/index.htm

What do I do? Well, just about everything. Playing with babies is all fun but the real work is when they all start crying. Don't even mention when it's time to change the babies - it's not my favourite part of the work day, but it's part of the job. Most of these babies don't have parents and the ones who do have parents are at the orphanage until the parents can afford to take care of them.

I don't have any pics of the babies as yet because we are not allowed to take pictures "pour le bien-etre des bebes" but I have plans to get some pictures in before I leave - with permission of course!

As for my language training, I am taking French and Wolof classes. Wolof is an ethnic language widely spoken in Dakar and totally new to me - but also really fun to learn, I have a really great Professor. French classes are a continuation of what I've done in school previously (high school and college) and I get to practice my French in communicating with others mostly, so it's all good.

My job and my classes take up 40 hours of my week, not leaving me with much time to see all that I want to see! But, I have 5 more weeks, so I hope that I will get to squeeze in more stuff... all which I will update you on.

Hello World ! It's about time...

A few months ago I wrote this in a final financial aid application to volunteer in Dakar, Senegal:

I recall the various emotions that crossed my mother’s face when I asked, “Mom, Can I go to Africa to volunteer this summer?” As protective as she is, she could not deny that I have had a longing desire to volunteer in a developing country despite having done various volunteer activities back home (JAMAICA!). With her approval, I had done considerable research in looking for volunteer programmes in French-speaking Africa, but sometimes one cannot do it alone. Having been waitlisted for my initial application to volunteer in Fundong, Cameroon, I realised that desperate times call for desperate measures. Unwilling to give up so easily and with very little time to spare, I enlisted the help of ------ ------, Director of Off-Campus Study at Grinnell, and found an alternate volunteer programme in Dakar, Senegal.

Now, it seems to only be a few weeks later, but here I am in Dakar, Senegal, West Africa, Africa.

I have been here for 2.5 weeks now but although I’ve kept a daily journal… my attempts at starting a travel blog have only now come to fruition. I hope that you will bear with me and my ridiculous time schedule (40 hours of combined volunteer service and language training) as I try to share my experiences with you through this travel blog. 

By the beach, near to where I live with my host family in Dakar :)