The Zebra Bar, Fatiahs & Customer Service – Senegal 9th Dec 2009

Date: Wednesday 9th December, 2009 | Country: Senegal | 4 Comments »

After getting through the border a small distance later you are driving through narrower Senegalese roads, people stop and stare at your vehicle as you drive through, some open mouthed, some wave and others getting on with their own business.

We had been told by many people that the first place to check out is the Zebra Bar, I was a bit sceptical by the fact that everyone has said only good things about this place, I had visions of it being a touristic haven with techno music and foreign accents, I was wrong, the camp sits about 20km outside the closest city St Louis.  We arrived in the dark to the camp and it was difficult to make out what the place actually looked like, but what was clear was that the area to park up and find your own space was massive and felt very chilled.  Our first stop was the bar and in a very trustworthy manner, you mark up how many beers you have taken from the fridge on the paper that has your details of when you arrived.

Photos of the Zebra Bar, if you want some peace, tranquillity and relaxation, head here

It was clear that Kirk knew his stuff when it came to vehicle maintenance, his vehicle was kitted out quite nicely for a long distance trip, both Kirk and Dale had done enough research as to where to stay, what essentials to bring and how to have their possessions stored in an efficient manner, if you were to compare them to Maggie, Reka and I, we are chapter 1 of 4×4 overlanding, they are at the end of the book!  Kirk was very helpful in showing me how to setup the roof tent and get the most from the other extra’s on Maggie that we haven’t tried out yet, such as the awning and the shower!!

Go go gadget shower!

It was the first time on this trip that we had found a place to camp in that was nice enough to basically do all the things you want to do such as maintenance, build some campfires, cook, go and chill on the beach or take a trip into a beautiful city.

St Louis

Driving into the city you notice how much influence there had been by the French in part of the city, <<enter some history here>>

Our first trip into St Louis led us to the beach where we found many locals that worked in the fishing trade, many kids learn at an early age how to fish and walking along the beach you could see adults showing their children how to fish literally 20 metres from the shore with their lines.  We also discovered a couple of guys that wanted to show us parts of the city close by, they seemed friendly enough and gave the impression that this was part of their good nature to show us where they have grown up, Kirk and Dale went off with one local guy that spoke French and Reka and I went off with a guy that spoke good English, he showed us the place where the majority of fish was being dried and salted and basically exported to places like Mali where dried fish was in high demand, it was a hot day and the smell was a sensory overload.  By the end of the tour it was clear this guy was hinting at the fact that people pay good money to get a tour guide and all he wanted was some rice for his family, he even told us the price of rice per kilo which was quite expensive here, information I wasn’t really after.  Eventually we settled on a few boxes of green tea and the remainder of my Mauritanian oguiya’s which totalled a couple of quid, beware especially here that many guys no matter how friendly they maybe are normally after something in return!

A young entrepreneur that runs his family art business

We were all hungry and thirsty after this and we found what seemed like a decent local place to eat with a simple menu, the problem was that most of the menu was not available, it did however have a whole chicken on offer which seemed reasonable enough for the 4 of us at a cost in total of £7.  By the time we realised they had gone somewhere to get the chicken that wasn’t even prepared we knew that lunch would take a while….a couple of hours later, the chicken came out and it still wasn’t cooked enough….sometimes patience is all you need..what can you do!  Next door to the cafe I met a young guy who was 8 years old, he spoke French, Spanish and a little English, he told me that his mother brings in many local crafts mainly made from local woods that he sells in the shop (see photo above), he is an amazing kid.  Eventually after the chicken finally came out after several more games of Uno, we noticed that the breasts looked to have disappeared…ah well, the meal in the end was good but that could have been more out of being hungry than anything else.  We also stocked up on Gazelle’s (the local 1.5 litre bottled beers), it worked out much cheaper buying them from a supermarket rather than paying for them in the camp (double the price), we also had our fridges running but the real trick was to replace our beers with the colder ones in the camp’s own fridge!

Campfire Music

At the end of each day at the Zebra bar, the hunter gathers (Kirk and I) would make a fire while the ladies (Dale and Reka) would prepare the food, it sounds sexist I know but it really wasn’t, there is also the process of cooking the food in the fire so the system works quite nicely, I didn’t notice anyone else in the camp building a fire but they were crazy as there was plenty of wood, plenty of kindling and campfire bbq’s or braais for me are just amazing.  Kirk also brought his acoustic along and one night we spent many hours playing, he’s a great at playing the harmonica so with Dale and Reka, we all had a good sing song.

Another bonus about the Zebra bar is that you can take out some canoes and after 20 minutes reach the other side of a preserved mangrove that you can walk through and eventually come out the other side to a beautiful undisturbed beach, the waves were strong and Reka did her impression of surfing with out a surfboard and had the scars to prove it.

Back to basics

Please note, if you are vegetarian, you may not like reading this section so move to the next section, you have been warned!

One crazy afternoon we took a walk into a nearby village to see what food we could buy, we met a local artist called something along the lines of cloong cloong he said his name was like the sound of a church bell.  Cloong Cloong was an old guy from Mauritania who specialised in arts and crafts and made his own paint to decorate the nearby buildings which were the entry into the nearby national park that was good for seeing water birds (see photos below)

Cloong Cloong’s original bird and sea life art work

We asked Cloong Cloong what we could buy from the village and he told us that we had just missed the local market this morning and now all you could buy from here was a chicken, we all looked at each other and thought ‘Why not?’.  After he took us to a few local houses to enquire about a chicken, he found one place where the lady of the house came out, greeted everyone and then agreed a price of 3000 CFA which is the equivalent of £4, sounded reasonable and we then chose what looked like a decent looking chicken.  Thankfully we didn’t have to catch it, another local guy came into her garden and within seconds had it by the legs.  Kirk had a trick whereby he rubbed the chickens head and told us that this puts it to sleep, it seemed to work!  When we got back to the camp, we asked a guy who worked there to show us how to put the chicken to sleep very quickly, he took a knive from Kirk, put a bucket over her body (To stop the blood going everywhere) and cut it’s neck, within a minute it has stopped moving and the chicken was ready to start its cooking process to get eventually onto the campfire.  Reka suggested pouring boiling water over the chicken to make it easier to pluck, so we did and guess what, the feathers came off very easily!  A German guy came over to see what we were doing and told us that is normal to wait a day before you cook it otherwise it will be tough but we didn’t have anything else to eat to we carried on with spicing it up.  We removed the gooey bits from inside, found a few almost mature eggs’s inside the chicken and removed them to eat later.  We spatch cocked it onto a grill a few hours later and roasted it over some hot coals.  Unfortunately for us ze Garman was correct, the chicken itself was tough, but overall it was a good experience and a good lesson on cooking from scratch if we were ever to have to do the same again!

By the way, we didn’t take any photos of this but Dale took some and at some point soon or even now they will be available on their own blog at www.SawubonAfrica.com.

I have to mention that after playing for Uno for what seemed like an eternity, Reka had her moments, Dale led for most of the tournament, Kirk was like a yo-yo and I started slowly, very slowly and clawed my way back to what seemed like a momentous comeback, sadly for me, Kirk was the eventual champion!

Cafe Culture St.Louis Style

Taking a taxi to St.Louis, the taxi seriously was in need of being ‘pimped’

350th Anniversary

The day we all decided to go our own way after spending some lovely days with Kirk and Dale it happened to be that St.Louis was celebrating it’s 350th anniversary (it is in fact much older but that’s when the official party started), and while we sat in the scorching hot sunshine waiting to exit St.Louis (major traffic jam by the way) I met a guy on the street that told me the parties and music tonight will be vibrant and would be a shame to miss, a few minutes later Kirk (also stuck in the same traffic) got out and we agreed to stay another night to check out the parties.

Sharing some fish and rice the Senegalese way

In the restaurant above we ate some delicious rice and fish, it is served in a big silver tray that everyone picks out of, a very social way of eating that is common so far in the countries we have seen.  It was here that we met Mustafa, he is a local musician that is trying to make his solo music work in St.Louis, he seemed very genuine and wanted to show us his side of St.Louis, he took us through the streets of where he grew up (for anyone that knows their football, El Hadj Diouf was born here but has since forgotten his friends and family here since he made it big in the premiership, shame on you El Hadj!).

Mustafa took us to a local bar called the Baobab which was serving cheap beers, the entrance wasn’t even named, it was just like walking into someone’s backyard.

The cheese shot in the Baobab bar

We met a friend of Mustafa (cannot remember his name now) as well who suggested that we all get together, cook some food,drink some beers on the beach in a place which Mustafa rent’s out to tourists at a small price, it sounded reasonable until Mustafa’s friend wanted to take some money from all of us, none of us wanted to do this as we hardly knew this guy and Mustafa straight away knew where we were coming from and told his friend to take it easy, in the end Kirk and Dale went with Mustafa’s friend to go get some drinks and food.  Mustafa was an easy going guy, he was very honest and had a great passion for where he has come from and as talented as he sounded was happy to live in St.Louis as he didn’t want to live anywhere else, refreshing I thought.

Panasonic Lumix vs a Canon handheld!

That night we took a taxi to Mustafa’s camp which was literally on the beach and then spent the next few hours listening to him sing his original traditional Senegalese music while his friend played the Djembe drum, what was nice was the fact that we all joined in by playing all sorts of instruments made from the beach and surrounding areas, a wooden ashtray made some good percussion, a bottle filled with pebbles and Kirk setup his own mini drum set using a few branches as drumsticks, it was fun and at the end of it we were served a grilled fish drizzled in a vinaigrette sauce with tomatoes and onions, yum!!

Afterwards, Mustafa took us to the same place that we had met him earlier this afternoon to see a local Senegalese band which was more contemporary and jazz like but sounded good.  The band was very fluid and invited some of the local crowd to join in and sing or play an instrument on various songs, the main singer had a beautiful voice.  The only problem was one guy who basically was in love with himself started to dance in front of the band, the space was limited and quite intimate and this guy pranced around like a grade A Banana, the music started to become quite salsa’ish and this banana invited Dale to dance with him, the funny thing was, when we left the club, this grade A nana actually had the nerve to come out and ask for some money from Dale, thankfully Mustafa told him where to go and it was a good thing otherwise Kirk would have turned him into banana mush within seconds!

The next day we said our goodbyes to the lovely Kirk and Dale and hope that we meet up again in the future, they are on one hell of a journey and I’m sure it will be a fulfilling one (even though I still believe the Landrover rocks compared to the Landcruiser!).

Touba the Mecca of Africa

The next day we decided to avoid Dakar which we were told by many is a big dirty city and to be honest there was nothing we really wanted to see there so we decided to avoid it and go to Touba.  Mustafa told us that Touba has a mosque that is like a pilgrimage that people do in Africa as they do to get to Mecca, the drive there was pleasant but we had noticed that the further west we drove the hotter it was getting and by the time we got there, the mid afternoon sun was scorchio!  As soon as we parked up opposite this amazing looking mosque we were barraged by many people asking either for money or if we wanted a guide, eventually we were able to get to the entrance whereby we were told that we must as non muslims take a guide to show us where we can and cannot walk, the problem I had was that the guide that came to us was very aggressive and loud, I asked him if this is the way he behaves in a place of worship and he immediately changed his attitude towards us, he then smiled and relaxed and basically left us to walk around without constantly talking, walking around you got a sense that this would have taken centuries to build and the fact that a lot of marble was imported from Italy probably cost a lot to construct, the end result I have to say was very special, it was a cool relaxing place, many people had taken their own spots to meditate or read and when a prayer was being said, the whole placed echoed with the sound of his voice.

Touba

We then headed to what seemed on the map anyway a huge national park called Nikola Koba, at 900 square km it sounded like a great place to get some wildlife action.  That night by the time it was getting dark we had not found a hotel or camping place to settle so we ended up going off road away from the main road and made a campsite ourselves, there was enough wood to make a fire and except for the odd man riding his donkey cart, we were not disturbed, the tins of tuna and pasta we had bought in Mauritania came in handy for times like this.

Nikola Koba

The next day we drove through a bustling city called Tambacounda which is the 3rd largest city in Sengal (I think), the roads were ok but there are many taxis in the shape of guys on carts with horses where people jumped on and off, and these were a bugger to overtake as I would find the same in the opposite direction.  Reka spotted a lady on the main road who seemed to be serving some kind of food for breakfast, we stopped and checked it out.  It so happened that she spoke faultless English and originally from Sierra Leone, she was friendly and so happy to have met us, the feeling was mutual, especially after we bought some Fatiah’s from her, these are small pastries or sweet potatoes that are served with a spicy curried sauce ontop…and I can only tell you that these were simply gorgeous, and the fact that a portion cost 30p…yes…30p, we had hit the food jackpot.

Madame Khadijatu, with her wonderful Fatiah’s and her son

The drive to the park was another 50 or so km and when we arrived around 11 the plan was to check out the park, sleep in a camp in the park and then leave the next day.  As soon as we got to the gate, we were told to go into a small hut whereby a couple of park officials told us that it would cost 9000 CFA to enter (£12) for 2 people and the vehicle for 24 hours…no problem so far, they then pointed to something that said in French that it was “obligatory” to have a guide with us through the park…problem!  As some of you know, there are only 2 seats inside Maggie and no space in the back which is used for all our storage, water, fridge, clothes etc. I had to show the officials the lack of space but all they could say was that it is “obligatory” to bring a guide and that many people have been turned away if they do not bring one.  Another couple from Germany rocked up with the same intention but again in their ropey bedford van, there was no space for Le Guide, they then turned around and told us they would try another gate and if not would drive back to the Gambia.  One official was very friendly although he couldn’t let us in otherwise he would lose his job, after an hour of discussions and drinking some sweet tea we were not getting anywhere, one guide who spoke a little English told me that a guide would be very helpful for the route through the park as well as explaining about animals, they use a rota system for who is available to guide and it happens that our guide Ansoor speaks only French.  I told them what use is a French guide when I haven’t a clue what he is saying…again all I got back what it is “obligatory” to take this guide.  Then the question of safety and where he would sit was discussed, we explained with body language that it would not be our responsibility if the guide was injured by a tree or an animal if he sat on top, the guide Ansoor looked petrified when he was told where he had to sit for the whole journey.  Again, as part of the administration, a guide is 8000 CFA per day (£11) but we would have to pay for 2 days rather than 24hrs as their rate is different to the park entry timing, if I wanted to argue against this, we seriously wouldn’t have entered the park.

Ansoor our guide

We paid all the fees, gave Ansoor a cushion to sit ontop of the spare tyre that he was sitting on and we entered the park.  We knew that the park had just opened a few days before and it is closed for a few months, and we realised early on that this park is better off seeing around Jan or Feb when the grasses and bushes have become smaller, there were small fires dotted around the park to actually clear some of the vegetation that we were driving through.

Nikolokoba National Park (the bridge by the way very scary as one side was leaning heavily towards the croc infested water below).

The Meal

Our guide Ansoor was a nice man, he didn’t spot anything that we inevitably saw before he tapped the vehicle roof but you could tell that this was park was part of his life.  We had driven 4 hours in the park and we had seen many different species of birds along the way, we reached a spot called Simenti which was the main stopover base in the park, it had a large hotel and a staff quarters with an army barrack for the soldiers that patrolled the park (mainly to stop hunters and prevent lions and leopards escaping into nearby villages).  Our guide asked us if we wanted to eat anything and we both said yes, the meals were a set price of 7000 CFA (a tenner) each which seemed expensive in Senegal considering our breakfast cost 30p, but we didn’t have any food with us and it was in the middle of nowhere so we sat down to eat.  The restaurant had seen better days, it was a large space that sat around 50-70 people but felt quite eerie with just the 2 of us at a table.  The waiter brought over a first course, and we asked him if there was a menu to choose from, he said there was no menu.  So the first course, a thick thick omelette, for me the smell of eggs sometimes makes me feel queasy and this dish definitely did that, I couldn’t eat more than a couple of mouthfuls, Reka also didn’t like it and finished a third of the plate.  The waiter comes over and asked us if it was good, I said ‘No’, the next course comes a delightful dish of stodgy tinned meat and boiled potatoes, it made my school dinners cook in St Augustine a candidate for master chef, Reka and I ate a few morsels, the waiter asks if it was good, I said ‘No it was terrible’ and asked him why doesn’t this place serve Senegalese food, he smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  We both wondered what delightful dessert would follow and to be consistent with all the other 2 dishes we were expertly presented with an unpeeled banana on a plate.  It took me a few seconds to work out that this restaurant is seriously taking the Michael out of any tourists that are unfortunate to sit in this place, the waiter came over with the bill and I said that ‘we have a problem’, his smile that before was constantly etched on his face began to wilt as he realised that no money was going to be extracted from my pockets.  Very soon a few more staff got involved and a guy who said he was acting on behalf of the manager and we must pay the food bill.  Trying to explain that we understood the price of the food but not for the quality that we were given was very very difficult, I got the impression that they serve this rubbish and people simply pay, well not today!!

Suddenly 8 or 9 people were surrounding Reka and I and all talking at once, the cook also made his way out and seemed absolutely devastated that we didn’t’ like his food, he then had the nerve to say that we ate all his food, the waiters also agreed that we had eaten all the food, by this point I was getting quite angry (not angry enough to turn my skin green, yet) as these guys started to blatantly lie in front of our faces.  The troop of staff now had increased in size as we made our way to the park army barracks, some random guy with glasses started to shout at us and I told him to be quiet, he didn’t like that.  The army official listened to the waiters version of what had happened and before even asking us he said that we must pay the bill then there will be no problem, I said there is no way I am paying this bill, Le Mange es No Beaucoup, Qualitiet is a grande problem (I’m good at French huh!), Reka also tried to explain to the officials but there was a massive lack of understanding due to the lack of French and we were not getting anywhere except going in circles.  The official called for ‘David’ to come and David (a Spanish research student on baboons) came out, his English was great and we explained our situation and understood what we were trying to say, when he translated this into French the staff were saying that because we ate at least one mouthful we must pay.  I felt sorry for David as suddenly he was being barraged by many guys, it was really hot and we were standing in direct sunshine.

The army official then brought his boss over who stopped the noise and told us that we must pay otherwise they will keep us in the park until we do and we must pay the additional costs, I told him that if he does that then I will get the British embassy involved (not that our phones were working in the park).  He then left and Reka and I then sat around in the shade as we were told the hotel manager would arrive later tonight.  Our guide Ansoor was witness to this whole debacle and there was nothing he could do, he was probably shocked at the fact that we didn’t pay, but as I explained to him and the crap cook, the waiters and the army, I can give the money and walk away, but it’s the principle of what you are doing that I don’t agree with.

What was also interesting was the way that people talk about you in front of your face, later in the day when the sun had set, some staff that work the night shifts had heard about the commotion and sat down with us and Ansoor, one guy came over and pointed at me talking in French about me and I told him not to point, he didn’t like it but hey we all have our own customs and I draw the line when I don’t agree with local ones that are directed towards me.  After a long wait and having a shower (with a frog) we both felt refreshed and were asked to meet the manager, he seemed reasonable enough and I tried to explain that I have no problems with the staff (worried the could lose their jobs) but with the quality, as a gesture of goodwill he reduced the rate for camping in their grounds by 50% and took a few thousand off the bill, we shook hands and settled up, it was a long hot day full of talking and arguing with officials and we were both cream crackered.  The next day Ansoor took us to a few spots in the park, one where a Leopard had been abandoned as a cub and had been kept in a 20m x 20m cage for 7 years as he explained that he couldn’t fend for himself, again, sounded fishy to me, all in all I cannot recommend to you that you visit this park unless you are a bit of a masochist but it was an experience and we got out in one piece!

The road to Guinea Bissau

The day we left the park we decided to check out a border that was relatively close to a town called Kolda with Guinea Bissau, if the border was cool we could get our visa’s there and go straight into Guinea Bissau.  Everything was going fine, we passed straight through the Senegal side but at the Guinea Bissau side the guy behind the visa control wanted in total 55,000 CFA (£80) from us so we could continue, he clearly was having a giraffe and would not budge on the price, we then bid him farewell and decided to get our visa’s (£5 each) in Ziguinchor.

Ziguinchor is the city that we could get our visa’s for Guinea Bissau rather than heading many more more km’s to Dakar.  What is nice when driving through the more remoter parts of the country is that if you wave to someone you inevitably get a massive wave and a big smile back, it’s addictive and Reka started getting into the swing of it also, by the end of the day, your arms are sore!

Top Left: Some weird looking bird, All others: Sonakouyaga’s colourful bar

Village’s from Tambacounda to Ziguinchor

Reka decided to sit ontop of Maggie for a while to get a different perspective of the drive and because of this, we gave a guy a lift from one village to another, he told me he is a teacher in a nearby school and took us around his village a few km down the road, after we said goodbye to him we realised the road started to deteriorate, and it probably answered my question of why the roads were so quiet, basically Reka and I took turns to drive Maggie a distance of 100km and it took us around 4 hours!!!

100km of pothole heaven

When we arrived in Ziguinchor we immediately found where the embassy was, Reka managed to rant down a public phone to her bank HSBC that has literally not allowed her to take any money out from any ATM’s since leaving Morocco (the bank of Noel has been busy) and when we met the consulate for Guniea Bissau he was friendly and told us all the countries he has travelled to and lived in and you could tell he was there to help and get things done quickly, within seconds we had the stamp in our passports and were ready for another country.  We headed to San Domingos the border to Guinea Bissau (30km from Ziguinchor) and within an hour of waiting we had bid farewell to Senegal.  Overall for me I liked Senegal, it’s a complete contrast to the more Islamic strictness that you can feel in Morocco or Mauritania, people are more laid back (unless you complain!) in general and there are some amazing places to go and visit.

Reka – HUN: Miutan atertunk Szenegalba, a hatartol 30 km-re levo St Loiusba, azon belul (illetve 20 km-re kivul) Zebra Barba tartottunk. Dale es Kirk is terveztek, hogy itt maradnak egy ideig, ugyhogy egy par napot egyutt toltottunk. Igazi jo fejek, es kulon bonusz, hogy volt Uno kartyajuk, amibol aztan igazi, napokon at tarto bajnoksag kerekedett. Ha olvassatok az angol veriot lathatjatok, hogy Noel buszkelkedik azzal, hogy 2 napi ngyedik helyrol sikerult a masodikra feljonnie, engem nem nagyon erdekel, hogy utolso lettem, mert jokat rohogtunk. Ja, meg vegre tudtunk hideg soroket is inni, ami a mindennapi tobb, mint harminc fokos melegben egyaltalan nem elhanyagolhato kerdes.

A Zebra Bar kemping egy paradicsom, becsulet-strigulazos bar rendszerrel, meg ingyen kajakokkal. Vegre egy hely, ahol megallapodtunk egy par napra es elveztuk a tengert, a napsutest, a tabortuzet es a helyi eteleket, tobbek kozott egy altalunk levagott, megpucolt, es grillezett csirket. Ami igazabol egy ven tyuk volt, mert tobb oras pacolas utan is olyan ragos volt, mint a cipo talpa, de elmeny volt!

St Loiusban is talalkoztunk nagyon sok kedves emberrel, meg termeszetesen – Afrikarol leven szo – olyanokkal is, akkik egeszen addig keszsegesnek tunnek, amig ra nem dobbennek, hogy mi tenyleg nem fogunk nekik penzt adni amiert pusztan helyi “udvariassagbol” megmutatnak egy-ket ottani erdekesseget.

St Loiusban megismerkedtunk egy helyi zenesszel, aki azt ajanlotta, hogy vegyuk az iranyt Touba fele, ami Afrika Mekkaja.Igy is tettunk, a fenykepeken latjatok, hogy maga az epulet gyonyoru, 10E embert is kepes befogadni penteki imara. Persze a turistavadaszoktol itt sem volt nyugtunk, meg a Marokkoban kapott szaharai nepviseleti leplemet (amit a mecsetben viselnem kellett) is majdnem leszedtek rolam.

Innen eletem elso igazi nemzeti parkjaba indultunk, ahol pavianokat, antilopokat, krokodilt es mas egyeb kisebb allatokkal talalkoztunk. Persze az ide valo bejutas sem ment siman, mert annak ellenere, hogy a kocsi ket uleses, kotelezo volt hivatalos vezetot fogadnunk (nana, hogy fizetni is kellett erte), aki persze egy kukkot sem beszelt angolul. Aztan a park kozepen levo turista “komplexumban” is fogadott nemi meglepetes, amikor az etteremben nem valaszthattunk, hanem azt ettunk, amit hoztak, illetve ettunk volna, ha eheto lett volna… Persze amikor az etterem vezetojenek akartunk [anaszkodni, hogy nem vagyunk hajlandoak 10 Fontot fizetni egy tojasrantotta eloetelbol, fott krumpli, fott hus, por-szosz foetelbol es egy felig zold, felig rohadt banan desszertbol allo menuert, akkor mindenki mas elkezdett hoborogni (marmint a tobbi szemelyzet, mert rajtunk kivul fizeto vendeg nem volat – egy sem!). Aztan egy Dave nevu nemet srac a segitsegunkre sietett, legalabbis forditas teren, es megprobalta elmagyarazni, amit mar mi is tibbszor probaltunk, de persze alig semmilyen francia tudassal nem nagyon ment; hogy nem az arral van a bajunk, ha jo lett volna az etel, akkor minden tovabbi nelkuk kifizetnenk, de mivel a kutya meg nem kerdezte, hogy akarjuk-e a napi menut enni vagy sem, csak kihoztak az iskolaebed szintjere sem ero fogasokat, ezert nem vagyunk hajlandoak teljes arat fizetni. Aztan jottek a helyi fegyveres orok, hogy majd az o fonokuk eldonti, hogy mi lesz velunk ha nem fizetunk, meg hogy majd atadnak a hely rendororsnek esatobbi… a vegen aztan az etteremigazgato is megerkezett, akivel nemi kedvezmenyben es felaras kempingben megallpodtunk. Nem az ar szamitott igazan, hanem elvi kerdes volt, de megoldodott.

Itt Afrikaban rajottem, hogy nem szabad mindig mindenkinek igent mondani elsore, ha hatarozottan lep fel veled szemben, mert az meg nem feltetlenul jelenti, hogy jogos, amit ker. Peldaul az eddigi osszes hataron sikerult kevesebbett fizetnunk, mint amennyit eredetileg kertek az atkelesert (mindenfele hulye indokkal, mint gepjarmu ado, kozossegi ado, tajvedelmi dij es sorolhatnam tovabb, de a kedvencem mondjuk az az adminisztracios dij; plane olyankor, amikor a csavonak, aki adminiszral, 10 percebe telik leolvasni a rendszamtablat). Ha te hatarozottabban valaszolsz, mint ahogy ok kernek, a legtobb esetben kiderul, hogy csak probalkoznak, es amikor szamlat, vagy irott szabalyzatot kersz a fizetesre vonatkozoan, akkor egy szo nelkul elengednek.

Ugyanez vonatkozik a kozuti ellenorzesekre, Szenegalban peldaul minden szarba belekotnek, illetve probalnak, de nekunk mindenunk renben; ahogy kell van 2 haromszogunk, 3 poroltonk es minden egyeb, amit el tudsz kepzelni. De a legjobb huzasunk az a laminalt jogositvany. Feltunk attol, hogy valamelyik helyi szerv majd egyszer csak elhagyja, vagy nem adja vissza az eredeti papirjainkat, ezert most a szines, laminalt egy oldalu (tehat a hatulja sima feher) masolatot hasznaljuk. Szerinted? A kutyanak sem tunik fel, ez Afrika!!!

Utolso napunkat Szenegalban eletem legrogonyosebb 185 km-jevel toltottuk. 4 oraba telt, hogy atevickeljunk a katyukon. A fenykepek magukert beszelnek, de roviden csak annyit, hogy tobb a lyuk, mint az ut. Aztan amikor egy fokkal jobb szakaszra ertunk es Noel atvette a kormanyt, en felmasztam a tetore es onnan elveztem az egyebkent csodas palmafas folyoparti tajat. Ott fent ulve, ahogy minden utszeli munkas asszony mosolygott es integetett, amint meglattak, es husito szel fujt, ugy ereztem, hogy meg talan soha nem voltam ilyen boldog. Hihetetlen, hogy mekkora boldogsagot okoz az, amikor a legegyszerubb emberek is baratjukkent udvozolnek az ut szelerol, es azzal, hogy felejuk integetsz, hatalmas mosolyra kerekedik a szajuk.

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