Sick in Dakar
I arrived in Dakar two weeks ago via plane from Mali and immediatetly became sick. (My new friend here, Angela, insists that I point out that more than likely I got sick in Mali. "Don't blame that on Senegal," she said) At first I was diagnosed with malaria. Seems that is always the first diagnosis for sickness with a fever. But it wasn't behaving like malaria, and lab tests show that I have dysentery.
Unfortunately I have not been able to see Senegal. I also have not been able to finish writing about Mali. But I will! As soon as I recover. Thanks to everyone who has been checking on me!
Monday, October 18, 2004
Saturday, October 02, 2004
What is it with me and taxis?
I arrived in the capital city of Bamako after an eight hour ride on a bus that from the outside looked pretty decent. Displayed prominently on the back window was a decal listing all the amenities: TV/Video, A/C, shaded windows, reclining seats. But as you might guess, the only thing it really had to offer was no a/c and windows that did not open. It was by far the most grueling trek yet. It was so hot that everyone was lulled into a silent stupor and I was nearly comatose the whole way.
When I arrived, my Dogon guide's brother came to meet me at the bus station and take me back to the restaurant they owned. They had a few rooms there, but I decided I didn't like the arrangement. Tired and anxious to find a comfortable place, I got a taxi and tried to recall the little French I had not been using. With gestures and mangled French I asked him to take me to a hotel I'd found in my guide book. He didn't understand, but unlike the last taxi driver, he was determined to help me. He went inside a store and got directions.
As we drove across town, the traffic was so chaotic, that I couldn't recognize who had the right to drive where. All of this mixed with my frustration, that I'm sure the driver could sense, must have made him anxious as well. He seemed lost and confused and I just had to reassure myself that this is not worst situation I've been in.
The further we drove, the darker it became, there were less street lights and less people. I told myself there was no need to panic. The driver realizing he needed more directions, got out and walked back to a guard we had just passed. But in his hurry, he did not put the car in park or put on the brake. I felt the car rolling down the hill. I quickly reached across the back seat to grab the parking brake, but i didn't see one nor could I figure out how to put the car in park. At this point the car was picking up speed, heading down hill and crossing to the opposite side of the street. There was nothing else I could do. I flung open the door and jumped out. I yelled back at the taxi driver and pointed to the car. He ran downhill after the car, jumped in and stopped it before it hit anything. Whew! That was close.
I got back in and we reached the hotel which was just around the corner. I decided to treat myself to some A/C and a little bit of luxury. Instead of going into the hotel from my guide book, I walked across the street to the shiny and bright Le Grand Hotel! I stayed for 4 days, not doing much other than hiding from the heat.
I arrived in the capital city of Bamako after an eight hour ride on a bus that from the outside looked pretty decent. Displayed prominently on the back window was a decal listing all the amenities: TV/Video, A/C, shaded windows, reclining seats. But as you might guess, the only thing it really had to offer was no a/c and windows that did not open. It was by far the most grueling trek yet. It was so hot that everyone was lulled into a silent stupor and I was nearly comatose the whole way.
When I arrived, my Dogon guide's brother came to meet me at the bus station and take me back to the restaurant they owned. They had a few rooms there, but I decided I didn't like the arrangement. Tired and anxious to find a comfortable place, I got a taxi and tried to recall the little French I had not been using. With gestures and mangled French I asked him to take me to a hotel I'd found in my guide book. He didn't understand, but unlike the last taxi driver, he was determined to help me. He went inside a store and got directions.
As we drove across town, the traffic was so chaotic, that I couldn't recognize who had the right to drive where. All of this mixed with my frustration, that I'm sure the driver could sense, must have made him anxious as well. He seemed lost and confused and I just had to reassure myself that this is not worst situation I've been in.
The further we drove, the darker it became, there were less street lights and less people. I told myself there was no need to panic. The driver realizing he needed more directions, got out and walked back to a guard we had just passed. But in his hurry, he did not put the car in park or put on the brake. I felt the car rolling down the hill. I quickly reached across the back seat to grab the parking brake, but i didn't see one nor could I figure out how to put the car in park. At this point the car was picking up speed, heading down hill and crossing to the opposite side of the street. There was nothing else I could do. I flung open the door and jumped out. I yelled back at the taxi driver and pointed to the car. He ran downhill after the car, jumped in and stopped it before it hit anything. Whew! That was close.
I got back in and we reached the hotel which was just around the corner. I decided to treat myself to some A/C and a little bit of luxury. Instead of going into the hotel from my guide book, I walked across the street to the shiny and bright Le Grand Hotel! I stayed for 4 days, not doing much other than hiding from the heat.
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