On the road again

Am writing this in the car on the way back to Dakar. There’s not much to look at in the way of scenery and have done this journey so many times, thought I’d make use of the time! The land is really flat and dry and you can see for miles across barren shrubland with just the occasional Baobab tree to break the monotony. It’s hard to imagine but my colleague was telling me it used to be forest all along here but the trees have gradually been cut down for charcoal. Apparently the soil is still fertile but as the rains have become shorter and rarer in recent years, nothing much grows. You come across occasional patches of green where communities have erected an irrigation system, but other than that it’s pretty dusty and orange.

What else is there to see… this is the main road from the 2nd city (Thies) into Dakar so the road is dotted with frequent settlements – a mix of traditional huts and breeze block housing and plenty of semi-completed construction. Then there’s the rubbish. It’s almost as if black plastic bags are part of the landscape. Caught up in shrubs, attached to twigs, blowing across the edge of the road. A constant stream of non-biodegradable waste with nowhere to go. Every so often, at the edge of a village, you come across an open rubbish dump. The land turns from orange to multi-coloured as piles of plastic, tin and packaging are left to heap up. It’s a bit of a sorry site.

The other splash of colour on the otherwise dull landscape, is the site of women traders on the approach to a village. It’s mango season now so there are women everywhere in colourful pagnes with bowls of mangoes on their heads, and stall after stall lining the road selling the same fruit and veg.

Have just driven past an accident. An old estate peaugeot, known as a sept-place (1 seat in the front, 3 in the back and 3 in the boot), which is a popular type of public transport here for long distance journeys– more expensive than the bus but cheaper than a taxi, must have lost control and rolled off the side of the road and down a bank. It’s upside down and there’s a huge crowd around the car. People talk about dangers of malaria and getting sick from some strange tropical disease when you say you live in Africa but I def think road accidents are the biggest risk. The roads are in good condition here but people drive so fast, vehicles are overloaded with passengers squished into every available space and huge piles of luggage – everything from sheep to chairs, balanced precariously on the roof. Stark reminder of the dangers of travelling by road. I feel thankful that I can relax in my car from work.

We’re coming into the traffic hell that is the approach to Dakar. It can take 2 hours to move about 30km when traffic is really bad. One road in and out of the capital city is not the best example of urban planning. In between the cars that inch slowly along the jammed road, are gendarmes, whistle in mouth, with the nightmare job of controlling buses (with the conductor hanging out of the open back door), taxis, horse & carts and battered vehicles that look like they’ve come straight from a car graveyard. Then there’s the vendors, selling everything from tissues, newspapers, oranges, sunglasses, nuts, phonecards – who chase after you to grab their change as you buy something from out of your window and your car moves on.

The use of the horn takes on a whole new meaning here too. I’d estimate every 15 seconds our driver beeps and am at a loss most of the time as to what he’s beeping for.