Blackout
Typing this during a blackout, which is apparently only affecting the
quartier where my hotel is located. It’s nearly 10pm, and it’s actually
sort of lovely to be without power – the waves, just beyond the doors
of the hotel bar, are amplified, the street dogs bark a bit louder, and
the bass-heavy music that normally pumps through the lobby/bar area
(where wifi is available) is stilled. So here we sit, illuminated only
by candles and the fluorescent glow of my computer screen (see photo,
which is me, squinting in the half-light). And the incense coil, placed
there to ostensibly ward off mosquitoes, burning under my table.
(Mosquitoes, by the way, are not intimidated by incense. They are also,
apparently, largely undeterred by DEET. I don’t mean to harp on the
mosquito thing, but they really have some remarkably robust specimens
here in Senegal. My hat is off to you, Super Mosquitoes, masters of
your race).
The hotel staff is clearly quite accustomed to blackouts – the moment
the lights flickered and died, they swung into action, creating a sort
of assembly line of candle lighting and distribution. Three minutes
later, normal activity resumed, beers were hoisted, drinks were mixed,
and people returned to their political debates.
I watched the surfers at the rocky Yoff Virage beach again today, and
seriously considered joining in with my enthusiastic, profoundly
elementary surfing skills, but just as I was contemplating this
possibility, a gigantic – and I mean epic – wave appeared, and I stood
there, mouth agape, as boards tumbled over limbs in a furious white
froth, making a beeline for a line of black rocks. No one appeared
seriously injured, but there was a mass exodus from the water
immediately following the monster, buzz-kill wave, leading me to
conclude that perhaps the surfing can wait, for the moment, anyway.
I am moving to a new hotel tomorrow (not because of the blackout, but
because I sense the staff here, while unfailingly friendly, is slightly
confused about the parameters of my seemingly never-ending stay. Which
is fair, given that I keep extending my time here in fits and starts,
And, if I’m completely honest, it will be nice to stay somewhere with
dependable hot water and more than one light source per room, and where
perhaps the towels are demonstrably clean. Yes, yes, I know.
Americans.). Also because it’s time, I think, to get a new view of
things here in Dakar. So I’m off to a different neighborhood, this one
on the road leading to the westernmost tip of Dakar, and therefore of
Senegal, and therefore of Africa. To those of you on the East Coast, I
will wave in a westerly direction when I get there. (Should be around
nine in the morning, your time. I’ll be the one wearing a white shirt).
Your photo is very Blair Witch. Kind of freaking me out. Just a bit.
Hope the new digs are agreeable. Good thinking on staying out of the surf. Don't want to pull a Swayze and cut your adventure short.
Posted by: Christopher | March 13, 2007 at 06:16 PM