A Taxi Ride in Dakar, Senegal
“Bonjour, ça va?” I ask as I open the creaking door to his black and yellow taxi.
“Ça va”
I sit down on the gray, once fluffy blanket that covers the seat; it is worn and melds into the seat cushion. His taxi is a little worse for wear; dents and black duct tape everywhere. A missing side view mirror here, a cracked windshield there, but it smells okay. An air freshener hangs from the rear view mirror. I recall a brief conversation the night before.
“Don’t worry about the condition of the taxi, it’s battered, but it will get you where you need to go”.
That statement echoed in my mind as I look around. As we enter the main road, I notice a sea of black and yellow taxis in the same battered condition. The ocean is directly ahead and there is a large mosque on the beach of the Atlantic.
We turn right and make our way on to the main road. Fifteen minutes later, we come to a roundabout. Cars, trucks, mopeds, taxis and buses bottleneck into the middle, horns blasting every other second. I look right, a horse-drawn cart is beside me, even it competes for space on the road and shows no fear. It is slow moving, but intense, as there is much traffic.
A woman dressed in bright coloured traditional clothes appears at my window on the right; she is selling bananas. A man puts a long, clear plastic rung of orange and black business sized cards to my window. I smile and shake my head “no”. They remain. I shake my head again.
We exit the roundabout and continue our drive. Flashes of colour fly by my window. Beautifully
dressed women line the street, some carrying loads on their heads and children on their backs, others wait for a bus or shop the market stalls. I marvel at how the women dressed in white boubous stay so clean amidst the red earth, dust and garbage.
Vendors line the road selling watermelon. Fresh meat hangs in clear view at the butcher stands as flies buzz about. A mother and her young children sell clothes, produce and canned goods on the sidewalks.
Cows are being herded and goats roam the streets.
Children play soccer, dust, dirt and garbage among them.
Crumbling sidewalks, unfinished construction, vacant and neglected shops abound.
Packed blue and yellow buses with men hanging off the back.
White buses are loaded down with luggage and goats on top of the roof; the bus looks like it could topple over at any minute.
It’s unlike anything I have seen before, chaotic yet beautifully choreographed, as the movement fits together like a dance. A feeling of gratefulness washes over me. I smile and think to myself, I am in Africa.
Captured photos from the video I took on this drive to my Djembe lesson at a local community centre.
iPhone captured photos of Dakar, Senegal Street Life
