Monday--A Day Fun Of New Experiences With Buses And Visa Applications

It's Monday.  I recently returned from my first outing to get a visa.  As an American, I don't need a visa for Senegal which is very convenient.  But I do need visas for every other country on my trip.  So I decided to get the visa for The Gambia today.  If you have no idea how to get a visa for The Gambia in Senegal, you aren't so far behind me in what I knew this morning.  I had not yet gotten any visa for any country on my trip except at the port of entry.

Although the official name is "The Gambia" I'm going to dispense with that damn "The" from now on and call it Gambia.  Gambia doesn't have an embassy in Senegal.  It has a High Commission.  I'm not sure of the difference.  Inspection of a map will show that Gambia has exactly one nation bordering it--Senegal.  If you are in Gambia and you want to leave by land, but you don't want to go through Senegal, you're basically SOL.  Anyway, the high commission is in Dakar.  It's not too far from the Place d'Independence where I met the guy with the fake (or stolen) RayBans, Louis Vuitton wallet, and Montblanc pens.  A taxi there is about 2000 CFA if I'm lucky.  But there are a few bus systems in Dakar and they are less than 200 CFA.  I have never taken one of these buses, so today I would learn.

But first things first.  I needed photos.  To apply for visa in Africa you need lots and lots of copies of photos of yourself.  I had noticed there was a shop that advertised ID photos right next door to the Cap Ouest Hotel where I stayed a few days ago.  So I decided to go there.  It's about a 40 minute walk.

But before I can go there, I gotta get ready to be photogenic.  That means a nice shower and shave and putting on my finest collared shirt.  So I showered, shaved, and got myself looking all spiffy.  Then I wrapped up my Lonely Planet guide in a black plastic shopping bag headed out.

When I got to the main highway I started walking along.  Then, as often happens to me, a guy became interesting in talking with me.  His name is Rouland (sp?) and he is a musician.  He is currently working in the studio putting a CD together.  He has a brother in Houston.  I told him I lived in Houston.  I was wondering if he was going to try to scam me.  And if so what his pitch would be.  What did he want.  He did want any help he could get in coming to America.  I told him it's tricky to get a green card, but that he could do the green card lottery which just gives green cards away to random people.  And I suggested his brother might be able to sponsor him.  He wants to get into the music business in the United States where he thinks he would be better compensated for his talent.  But I told him that the official channels through Immigration is really the only thing he can do.  That means applying and waiting a long time, getting lucky in the lottery, or getting sponsored by his brother if there is some sort of family reuniting thing.  Then we got to the place where he was going so he had to turn.  We exchanged my email for his phone number and I wished him luck.  It was nice.  A guy who just wanted to talk.  He didn't want my money.  He maybe wanted my influence but he understood that I have no influence whatsoever in the matter of immigration.  It restored my faith that there are Senegalese people who aren't just out to rip off every novice foreigner they see. :-)

A few minutes later, I was at the photo shop.  It's actually a Novosat (?) satellite TV chain that has these Kodak machines in the stores.  I went in, said "bonjour, je voudrais quatre photo d'identité".  He understood my French.  Yay!  He handed me a couple of kleenex and I wiped the sweat from my face.  Then I sat down and got 2 pictures taken.  The assistant put the card into the machine, did a bunch of touch screen processing to choose which picture and the size and format and voila!  About 3 minutes later, I had 4 identity photos for 2000 CFA--about 50 cents a piece.

I was very near the main highway that runs down the Atlantic by the lighthouse near where I stayed the first night.  So I decided I'd walk along it and see what it takes to use one of these Alhamdoulilai buses.  I started walking toward N'Gor.  I saw several of these buses go by.  The assistant hangs out the back door.  Jonathan told me I just have to ask "Dakar?" and they'll say yes or no.  If they say yes, you hop on.  But do you flag them down?  Or go to stops?  I wasn't sure exactly.  I didn't see anyone else flagging them down.  But I did see congregations of people where it stops.  Finally, I got close to the place in N'Gor where the main highway branches off to the western most point in continental Africa.  There was an Alhamdoulilai bus that had just stopped at a bus stop.  I approached.  "Dakar?" I asked.  The guy sort of made a motion that I interpreted as yes.  So I hopped up.

I wasn't sure how to pay, so I thought I would just take a seat.  Thank goodness it was nearly empty.  Here is what the interior of the bus looks like:  there are 4 seats facing each other, 2 by 2 at the very back where the assistance hangs out the back.  Then there are about 6 rows of seats.  Each row has 2 seats on the left, 2 seats on the right, and a hinged seat in the middle where the corridor would be.  To move from one row to another row, you have to lift the hinged seat, squeeze through, and then let it drop again.  It's very inconvenient when the bus gets crowded.

The construction of the bus is sort of like this: Imagine this conversation: Have you ever built a bus before? No.  Do you know how to weld? No. Do you know how to rivet? No.  Do you know how to paint? No.  Do you know how to bend sheet metal? No. Well, you'll learn--there's all the parts you need--build us a bus.  And then this was the bus the guy built.

Since the assistant is in the back and the driver is in the front, there needs to be a way for them to communicate--things like "stop" and "go" (maybe more, but I can't think of what else is needed).  Fortunately, if you bang sheet metal with either your hand or with a coin, it makes a loud noise that can be heard from the back to the front.  So the assistant was in constant communication via coded tappings on the metal.  The locals probably know what all the different taps mean.  I was just amazed that tapping the sheet metal was the way they communicate.

So there I was sitting on the bus.  It went to Dakar partly a way I knew and partly a way didn't.  But I could see the Atlantic off to my right, so I knew we were at least heading toward to Dakar.  We weren't making great time--people were constantly getting on and getting off.  As soon as we weren't too busy, the assistant collected money from some of the people so I have him a 500 CFA coin and he gave me 350 CFA back.  We eventually hit a traffic jam.  Just after the jam, the bus turned, so I got out the next stop, breathed a gulp of fresh air, and went back to go south.  I eventually figured out I was on Avenue Cheikh Anta Diop.  Right where I wanted to be.  It changes names a few times, but goes really close to the Gambian high commission.  I started walking south.  It wasn't too long and I came across a Casino supermarket.  I'm not sure if it's French, but they have them in France.  It looked like a nice one.  So I decided to go in.  As soon as I did--glorious air conditioning--and it smelled like wild cherry flavoring for candy!  It was so nice!  And no surprise, a huge percentage of the customers there were European looking.  I went in and looked at the store.  Time for a shopping spree!  Here's what I got: 

Item	CFA	US$
store brand chocolate chip cookies	1150	2.30
30 poison refill mats for my electric mosquito poison dispenser	1750	3.50
mp3 deodorant	2290	4.60
insect repellent	3990	8.00
package of 2 sink stoppers	2290	4.60

Now I can do laundry because I have sink stoppers.  By the way, I now what they are called: bouche-évier.  The store is wonderful.  It's the kind of store I wished I found in Morocco.

Then, since it was about noon, I decided to eat.  They have a place called Caesar's.  I went up to order a chicken sandwich, fries, and a Fanta, but before I ordered, she asked "en boite?"  I said, "no, sur place", so she said "assiez vous."  For those who don't speak French, she asked me if I was taking out and since was eating there, she told me sit down.  So I did and a waiter came.  It's like Senegalese fast food, but they have a waiter.

So I ate my very good chicken sandwich--a huge chunk of breast meat and fries.  I was a little surprised that the drink wasn't included in the price of 2700 CFA like on the menu, but I did notice that the posted prices are takeout prices.  The drink was 900 CFA.  So the total was 3600 CFA or about US$7.20 .  But I think I got ripped off.  I'll try again and ask before hand.  I did leave a tip of 400 CFA.  If I got ripped off, I'll not leave a tip next time.

After that, I went to the City Sport--a chain I know from France.  It's very well stocked with bikes, clothes, and all sorts of things.  The thing I was most interested in: the Timex Triathlon wristwatches.  I'd like a watch and that is the style I want.  Most watches in Africa are designer/fake designer watches.  I want something black and utilitarian--not jewelry.  But they aren't cheap.  The cheapest style was about 45000 CFA or US$90.  And they go up from there.  So we'll see.  Anyway, I bought a tin cup for 1500 CFA or US$3.  The price tag also showed 2,00E and 13,12 fr.  Wow!  That cup was price tagged in France before they had the € easily writable and there were still francs flowing around.  Right at the transition to the Euro in France.  I better wash it thoroughly.

Anyway--I'm on a mission to get a visa.  At the Caesar's I checked the map and all I do is sort of follow the street I'm on until I get to Pompy, then sort of back track one block and go west.  Or something like that.  So I checked my compass to make sure I was still going south, and I was.  I walked for about a half hour.  The street is just booth after booth after booth selling everything imaginable.  Sort of like a medina street but with practical stuff rather than tourist stuff, so they don't have to try to entice you in.  There was barely enough room for the traffic which oddly enough also sort of flowed on that street.  I was walking along thinking Wow!  Wow!  Wow!  Every ten seconds brought into my field of view something interesting or even amazing. Like a guy walking with about 10 feet of folded foam mattresses balanced on his head just walking down the sidewalk.  You can't see something like that in the US, except at a circus.  I passed a captivating  woman in a beautiful hot pink dress with gorgeous hair and sprinkles all over her skin.  Bookstores.  Auto mechanics jsut working on cars out on the curb because they have a booth but no garage.  Just everything.

Finally I got to where I sensed I was close to a road that goes to the Place d'Independence.  I went over and then went south again.  In the distance I saw a flag.  I didn't know what flag--and I didn't know what Gambia's flag looks like, so I decided to pass it and see what it was.  It was the Gambian High Commission!

Voila!  I was there.  There was an open door so I went in.  A table was right there unmanned.  I went toward a staircase with an arrow saying "renseignments" or something--then there on a mat--perhaps a prayer rug, were two men.  One asked me what I wanted.  I said "Je voudrais faire une application pour une visa".  He called me over to the table I passed and asked my passport.  He copied the name and number and told me to go upstairs.  I did.  There was a booth with a window but nobody there.  I saw a sheet on the doors saying that visa applications should be made before noon and passports retrieve the next afternoon.  Oops--I guess they must get strays like me.  Eventually a very bored looking woman came into the office and I repeated my line about the passport.  She explained a bunch of stuff in French that I couldn't quite get.  Hmmm...  I got some of it.  She gave 2 application forms--identical.  So I borrowed a pen (note to self--bring pen) and went into a waiting room to fill them out.  I had my Lonely Planet so I put the name of the place I intend to stay.  I wasn't sure what to put for fund as your disposal.  I guessed.  I wrote the names and nationalities of my parents (yes, Mom & Dad--The Gambia now knows about you.)  I went back and handed the woman both forms, 2 pictures, my passport, and 25000 CFA (US$50).  She inspected the forms and then told me to come back tomorrow afternoon to pick up the passport.  So I left.

Well, that was easy.  The worst part seemed to be making a bored bureaucrat deal with me rather than what ever it is she would rather be doing.

Now to get back.  Fortunately, Jonathan also told me about he #8 bus of the DDD  or the Dakar Dem Dikk.  If the Alhamdoulilai is what a Filpino thinks of when he hears "bus", the DDD is a bit closer to what we Americans think of when we hear "bus".  He said it stops sort of around the corner from the SocGen bank just down the street.  I popped into an internet cafe where I bought an hour (minimum time) for 300 CFA using a 500 CFA coin for which I got no change--so I guess I should actually say that I paid 500 CFA for about a half hour of time.  I checked the news--but most importantly, I figured out where the #8 runs in downtown Dakar.  Turns out it leave from the Palais de Justice which a little more googling showed me is right in the tip of the peninsula at the far south end of Dakar, not far from where I was.  So I started walking there.  I watched every bus go by--there were lot's of 6's, 7's and 9's but no 8's.  Finally, I found a stop that was listed on the route map.  So I waited.  About 10 minutes after waiting, I saw it: "8 Aeroport" and I hopped on.  There is a guy in a cage right at the door who sells tickets.  I got a ticket and went to sit down in the not yet crowded bus.  I got more crowded as we went.  I recognized some of the route.  I was amazed by the amount of space on the bus.  I wonder if all the buses are like that for maximizing the passenger per square meter--or if the airport bus is like that because people take luggage.

Watching the people from the bus, they looked busy.  Dakar has a vibe--a buzz.  It's actually a nice place.  I'm not sure if I'm at the stage where I think I could live here, but I do like it.  The people seem more motivated than the people in Morocco.  I wonder if it's because Senegal is a democracy and Morocco is a monarchy.  So many of the streets stank in Morocco.  If your street stinks and you live in a monarchy, how do you get civil help?  In a democracy you threaten to withdraw your electoral support from whoever is responsible for making your street smell good.

Anyway, I watched as we wound through the streets of Dakar--slowly.  Then I saw that were at a street called "Grand Yoff" Whoa!  Yoff is where I want to go.  But nothing looked familiar--especially a guy in a clown suit on 12 foot stilts followed by a bunch of children banging drums.  Maybe I should have taken this bus in the morning so I would know the route.  But I didn't.  Nothing looked familiar and I didn't even really know where we were.  Were we really in Yoff?  Then the bus got on a highway and went through a clover leaf.  Damn!  I thought!  I'm headed to the airport.  I strained to see if anything was familiar.  Then finally, I saw something I knew.  Whew!  I got up and pushed the button to ask for a stop.  The sign over the driver already said "arrête demandé" and when the bus stopped, I got out right by the SocGen where I had gotten money out from the ATM a couple days earlier.

I walked down to the Via Via and went in.  I went to the reception and asked if I could extend my stay.  A woman behind the desk--perhaps the owner--told me in English that my French was good.  We laughed.  I told her, in English, I learned it just for this trip.  It is possible to extend.  So thins week, I'll get a few more visas, and then, once armed with all my visas, adios Dakar!

I ordered a well deserved beer and a 1.5 liter bottle of water.  Whew!  My day was over!  Mission accomplished!  Two bus systems experienced! Casino shopped at!  Timex Triathlon watches located! French used and understood at more places! And best of all--only minor rip offs!  It's nice to have a good day.  I need one of those every once in a while. :-)

July 28, 2008 19:00 Senegal local time