Am na sama benn xarit ki

              I didn’t expect to be back in Senegal so soon after leaving, and it’s surreal to be back here.  My “welcome” back to Senegalese culture began in the Casablanca airport.  As I wandered to find my gate, I immediately identified the location by Wolof being spoken all around me.  I took a seat, and the man beside me greeted me.  As the waiting area began to fill, people didn’t look for isolated seats to sit mindlessly on their computers or ipods; instead, they intentionally selected seats next to strangers and immediately initiated a conversation.  They were all Senegalese, and culture is the common grounds.  I listened to conversations about how Senegal will never progress, how hot Senegal is at this time, and how to cook the best maffe.  And, despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t stop listening and smiling.

              Nothing much has changed here, besides a few new buildings, street sculptures, and (of course) my perspective.  Today, as I traveled from government office to government office in the capital of Dakar in search of a permit to carry and collect soils, I was reminded of 2 important Senegalese lessons.  First, relax and take time as it comes; don’t rush.  Second, the country runs on relationships.  Fortunately, I was accompanied by a Senegalese friend who knows the system and knows the right people; as he continually repeated, “Am na sama benn xarit ki…” (I have a friend who…).  He had spent last night calling a long list of friends and acquaintances in variance positions to initiate meetings today either with them or with their friends and acquaintances.  We began this morning by meeting his friend at the Ministry of the Environment.  After sitting and catching up with her, she introduced us to a man, who then introduced us to another man, who suggested we speak to another man, who made a phone call to an official in the Kedougou office (where I will be collecting my samples) and determined that I wouldn’t need a permit.  Similar situations occurred at the other ministries I visited.  And so, through a list of contacts and meetings (all of which began with long conversations completely unrelated to my research), I eventually gained all the information I needed.  Had I proceeded to enter the various ministries myself, I would’ve been entangled in complexly structured office buildings, running from person to person without gaining much information.  But with patience, schmoozing, a push to remember all the Wolof I’ve forgotten, and a friend with contacts, I was able to accomplish everything (just in time for a delicious street lunch of coeb u jen – rice with fish and vegetables).

View from my hotel window

Dakar