My Journey to Senegal

By: Lamii Kpargoi

Mr. Peter Kahler who heads the WADR is a senior Liberian colleague. He goes out of his way to make every Liberian feel at home in Dakar so long as he has prior warning of your arrival.

About two weeks before flying out of Monrovia, I called Pete, as he is called by a lot of us, to let him know that I’ll be spending a few days in Dakar. And as usual he told me to just ring him up when I arrived.

So the very first thing that Bill and I did while awaiting our taxi from the Leopold Sedar Senghor International Airport was to inform Pete that we were in town.

He came by to see us the next day. And the day following that he took us to a place called Just for You where there was a live band performing. The music was mostly local with a little mix of American and reggae. It was quite lively with a lot of people in attendance. This was our third night in Senegal. The show closed at around 2:30am. We returned to our hotel to catch up on sleep and get ready for the final day’s session.

The next day we concluded the workshop. By 6pm the session broke up for the last time with a cocktail around the hotel’s swimming pool. This was after the resolution committee had read the document they had written. This was Saturday.

A few of us decided to visit Goree Island – the famous slave port that is in Senegal. The last time I was in Dakar I was unable to visit the place because I resided a long way from the harbor area of the city.

So on Sunday morning Bill (Liberia), Allette (South Africa), Dr. Salawu (Nigeria), Alfred (Sierra Leone) and I strolled from the Hotel Fairdherbe down the road to the harbor to board the ferry for the short journey to Goree. We paid our fares and boarded the ship along with a tour group.

It was a nice day out. We visited just about everywhere that we were allowed to on the island. We went to the slave houses – the little cells in which the slaves were kept. These are marked male, female, children, etc. The door of no return was a telling experience. Going through that same door, through which countless others passed centuries ago for torturous life in other parts of the world. One can just feel the anguish that those people might have felt.

We visited the quarters of the slave herders. We saw on display some of the tools – like guns – they used during their reign on the island. Several other artifacts are also on display from the slave era.

We rounded up by visiting the highest point on the island. This place overlooks the entire Goree. And at its very summit there is a huge artillery piece, presumably from the World War II era. It is in a state of disrepair.

We grabbed take away lunches on our way out of the island. We could not stay to eat since we did not want to run the risk of missing our return boat and having to stay another hour or two. For me personally, I had to get back to the hotel to watch the English Premiere League match between Liverpool v. Manchester United.

We spend the rest of the day in our rooms; at this point there only a few of us conference delegates still remaining in the hotel. A lot of the others had returned home.

On Monday, my last day in Dakar, I tried without success to change my Air Senegal flight out of Dakar from Tuesday to Wednesday. My intention was to avoid spending that day in Abidjan. But the two visits I made to the airline’s office in central Dakar were an absolute waste of my time, as I was told that no one had cancelled. My only hope was to go to the airport and hope for a no show. As I was not prepared to take such a risk, I gladly confirm my outbound flight for the next day.

Pete took us (Bill, Alfred and I) out again, since that was my last day in town. We visited a place called A Chez Iba. They prepare nice roasted lamb and chicken meat, served with beer or whatever drink one would prefer. It was a nice night out.

We round things off that night by visiting the WADR office so that Pete could put me in contact with Enoh Ndri, the WADR correspondent in Abidjan since I was headed that way. He called Enoh and gave me his number and him mine.

We took leave of Pete and returned to the hotel. I had to sleep, pack and be at the airport by 7am the next morning. I got up by 4:30am, shower, checked that all my belongings were in my bags, called Bill and Alfred to tell them that I was heading out, and went down to the lobby to checkout.

It was 6am when I stepped outside the hotel. A taxi stopped a short while later. The driver asked me where I was headed and I told him to the airport. He asked me to pay him 4000CFA, and as is the case with most business deals in Dakar I offered him 2000CFA. He repeated his 4000CFA and I stood my ground with my 2000CFA offer. When he realized that another driver was watching this exchange he buckled and agreed to take me.

Instead of taking the shortest route to the airport, the driver opted to have gone the long way. When we finally arrived at the airport, he demanded that I pay him 4000CFA because the place is too far. I refused and asked a police officer to intervene. But the officer decided to side with the driver. They knew that it would be difficult for me to miss my flight over such foolishness. I had to end up paying him 3000CFA. But I made it clear to the police officer that that was not a good sign for his country.

Anyway I go into the airport and check-in for my flight without any further mishaps. We boarded by 8am and flew out making a brief stop in Bamako, Mali. We then flew on to Abidjan, arriving at around midday.

Enoh was at the airport awaiting me. There were also a few of my Liberian compatriots who make it their business to “assist” travelers, especially Liberians coming through the airport.

Enoh and I got a taxi to my hotel in Koumassi, a suburb of Abidjan which is quite close to the airport. I thought it was wise to be that close since I didn’t want to miss my flight which was the next afternoon due to a traffic jam.

I spent the night and the next day which was a national holiday in commemoration of the Muslim celebration of Id ul Ada in Ivory Coast I got a taxi back to the airport in the company of Enoh. I met with Bill at the airport. He had stayed over in Dakar.

We awaited our return flight. We checked in on the delayed Bellview flight for Monrovia. That journey back on Bellview was one of the worst flights in terms of in-flight services I have ever had. After about an hour were landed at the Roberts International Airport – back home.

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Continued from a previous posting