All in a day

It's still Ziguinchor, but that's not to say there's nothing to report. Two days later...

Tomorrow we head east to Tambakounda, where we'll stop for the night and celebrate New Year's before heading on to the big game park.

We made our first purchases in the city's Artisanal Village. Today we took a four-hour pirogue ride--negotiating the deal for the expedition could be a chapter on its own--it took an hour but we got the price we wanted. We got to see flocks of pelicans, flamingos, falcons of different shapes and sizes, mangroves, jellyfish, jumping Capitaine fish, and a failing tourist attraction on a remote island.

Today the President of Senegal spoke to the residents of Ziguinchor, and residents nationwide via crackling radios, to commemorate peace in the region. Step foot outside the internet cafe and you'll see people rushing to catch a glimpse, some wearing Senegalese soccer jerseys, others carrying national flags.

The Yossou N'Dour concert was incredible. The wait was long. Finally, after it got dark and the moon rose red, N'Dour leapt onto stage, at which point the exhausted fans filling the stadium exploded into excitement. They screamed, danced and sang along to his songs. As did we.

Yesterday, as we returned from the market, we ran into a group of maybe ten young men, all gathered around and focused on a central table. What were they doing? Watching four kids play scrabble. Misspellings were abundant, and the game seemed to be a mixture of french and wolof vocab. There's a bustling street scene in Senegal, which makes sense since there are not many television screens in homes around which families can huddle to pass the nights. Instead, the sidewalk comes alive when the sun goes down. You'll find groups of small children gathered around old and rickety wooden foozball tables.

Last night, we went on a walk around the neighborhood. The initial goal was to find some pastries, which are practically impossible, no, impossible, to find. (Unless you're looking for beignets, a mildly sweet donut, fried in oil and sold on the street for cents, usually by women vendors...but only at certain times if you're looking for them fresh; otherwise they come in plastic bags, soggy and stale with moisture.)

At nights, you can find Nescafe vendors perched on street corners. We hit one of them up for a dose of caffeine at the main traffic circle. A spoonful of coffee, a pinch of sugar (much, much more if you're Senegalese), a series of flamboyant pouring/mixing maneuvers, and you have one of the tastiest shots of espresso you've ever had. Frothy, too.

On our walk we ran into a group of kids. One of the many wandering gangs of pre-teens you can find parading the streets at all hours, especially at night. If you're toubab, they'll taunt you with that until you attend to them. For their time, they'll accept donations of candy or cash, depending on what you have. This group was different (video to follow) and we ended up spending the evening with them. One bestowed a seashell necklace upon Emilie. With gifts here, you really have to make sure nothing is expected in return. Otherwise, once you've taken the necklace, bracelet or shirt collar (as the case may have it), you better pay up with a cadeau too. We bought them loaves of fresh, hot bread from the 24-hour bakery.

The discovery of the night was a place that sells ice cream. At exorbitant prices, yes, but ice cream, in the middle of Africa. For a mere $12 a gallon, and if you can find the rootbeer, you've got yourself a night to remember. We had neither, so we bought some individually wrapped bars. Half of them ended up in the kids' bellies, but that's ok--I don't think they'd ever tasted ice cream before. You should have seen the look of surprise on each face upon first lick. I think we'll go back tonight.

On a final note, Ziguinchor is blossoming with a new kind of cool. It's hip, for real. The buildings and roads are crumbling with age, patina everywhere, but once you get past that veneer you find a city bubbling with creativity and flair.

French pop is playing in the background, so we're going to leave. One foot out the door and you're back in the night, walking the darkened streets, enveloped by dust and car exhaust.