The Horse in the Sea

One thing I've noticed this semester is that I see poetry all around me. I'm not sure if this change is internal and suddenly I'm noticing more poetry than before or if Senegal is just a more poetic country with a more poetic people. I'm hoping it's the former, but I'll only know for sure after returning to the States.

A few weeks ago, on a weekend trip to Mbour - 40 km south of Dakar - I saw a man washing his horse in the sea. It was a hot and clear day, and his white(ish) horse was in desperate need of a cool bath. Mbour is a touristy town, and with that comes touristy trash, so the water was filled with soda cans and plastic bags and snack foods, among other dirtier things. While several buff Senegalese men, presumptuously male prostitutes, lined the beach doing push-ups, this young man stood waist deep in the rhythmic silver-gray water wearing swimming trunks and guiding his shy steed into the waves. At this point, I took a pause in my barefooted walk on the beach to watch his laborious process of spilling dirty ocean water over the horse's back and neck and trying to scrub coarse soap into its fur between waves.

To me, this whole ritual seemed metaphorical of Senegal's approach to many of it's internal problems. Cleaning a dirty horse with dirty water is the same as supporting the talibe system as a means to prevent children from being victimized with physical violence. Children swallowed by the Koranic schools and forced to beg on the streets often have daily quotas to meet, else pay a physical price. Instead of initiating a crackdown of some sort, society accepts the practice and advocates giving money to the children. Senegal has the same problem in terms of reforms to the education system, where children are taught in French despite the fact that they've been raised only in Wolof or other dialects. Rather than provide instruction in a language they know, the government has lessened the rigidity of the end of course exams. Often, students can progress all the way through high school without having any deep understanding of the French language materials they're being tested on. And this is just to mention a couple of examples... Instead of instrumenting reforms that actually improve the system, a dirty problem is covered with a dirtier solution.

I wonder how often he washes his horse.

Flying with Pelicans

My brief introduction is this: Although I had the intention of keeping a blog the entire semester in Senegal, my first few weeks were so full of excitement and new experiences and so void of internet access that I quickly got overwhelmed and decided to not write a blog at all. However, this past weekend was so inspiring that I guess I've changed my mind...

On Saturday, the entire group of fifty students visited the Djoudj National Bird Park, about 27 km and two hours north of St. Louis. In two motorboats, we cruised through a small corner of the park on the Senegal River, moving slowly so as to absorb the surroundings - tall marsh grasses, morning glories, and not a cloud in the sky. The reedy grasses sang to us as we tried not to disturb the peace. While we rounded a bend, a flock of pale pink pelicans sporting bright yellow and blue bills and intent black eyes flew alongside us, gliding barely above the water in perfect formation. I lost all sense of self in the boat with dozens of pelicans and the occasional cormorant on either side of us and felt as though I was swimming and flying all at once. A heron watched us from the riverbank with a knowing smile, as if he wanted us to fully experience this state of awe.

With every passing minute that we ventured deeper into the park, the smell of raw, rotting fish and bird poop intensified until we turned a corner to see a stretch of marsh filled with birds. This was the town hall meeting of pelicans where I am convinced they were debating the best reforms for Senegalese infrastructure problems and failing education system. Thousands of pelicans were crowded into a tiny space, stepping on one another, squawking, and generally having a good time. It almost felt as though I was overstepping some unspoken boundary to get a glimpse into their intimate lives.

After two hours of magic on the river, we returned back to the dock and back into St. Louis.