Elections

Every evening for the last 2 weeks, a convoy of cars (crammed with people hanging out of windows and sitting on the boot and the roof), has been travelling slowly past my office, behind a pick up truck with music blaring from speakers and someone on a megaphone shouting ferociously in Wolof. Behind the convoy is a string of people handing out leaflets, all in matching t-shirts with someone's face and a snappy slogan plastered across them.

This is local election time in Senegal; Dakar-style.

The current president, Abdullaye Wade or 'Le Vieux' (the old man) as he is known, is 85 and very unpopular. He won his second mandate in 2007 but this was hotly disputed. Normally when the election results are announced, people take to the streets spontaneously to celebrate. In 2007 for 3 days there was total silence. Even Wade himself did not mention the election results. It was as if he was waiting to see whether the public would come out and demonstrate against him and what was widely perceived as a rigged result. Senegal stayed calm however and Wade got himself another 7 years in power.

The population, already tired of him in 2007, have really had enough now. In my office, lunchtime chat invariably ends in heated political exchanges as people vent their frustration at his latest mess-up. Food prices have rocketed here as has the cost of petrol and gas, and although people recognise this is part of a global crisis, they do not accept Wade's unwillingness to do anything to support ordinary people, and the way he wastes money and removes people around him who do not agree with his policies. Lots of people have told me how Senegal used to be developing fast and a successful nation, but now it feels like it is falling behind.

Although the next presidential election is not till 2012, these local elections where people vote for their local mayor and the head of the region, are seen as an indication of the popularity of the President and his party. On Friday the papers were full of pictures of the President's son having stones thrown at him by an angry crowd as Wade wants to make his son the Mayor of the region of Dakar - a v influential position. People seem tired of his increasingly undemocratic ways and are ready for change.

So, today was election day and you could feel the sense of anticipation. Turnout for elections is high here. Streets were full of people with pink fingers. When you vote, you dip your little finger in bright pink dye to show that you have voted and to prevent people trying to vote more than once.

I was walking through an area known as Point E, which is where my office is based. Suddenly I heard sirens and the road was filled with police motorbikes and pick up trucks rammed with police in riot gear. Sandwiched between this heavily armed escort were 6 black Hummers, a black limo and 3 black Mercedes. The President and his son had arrived to vote.

I popped to a friend's house tonight and found him glued to the radio, as the results were drifting in from the different regions. They would announce the number of eligible voters in each local district; how many had actually voted; and then list the number of votes each party had won. District after district the result was the same: SOPI (the President's party) were losing, and not just slightly. They were being totally thrashed. Gana, my friend, could hardly contain his excitement and I found myself getting more and more nervous as I listened to the results and felt a flutter of excitement every time the opposition party came out on top. This is the second time in recent months I've been fascinated by foreign elections. Bizarre how I fail to get this enthusiastic about elections in my own country.

'This is a catastropy for Wade', Gana kept shouting. 'He can't ignore this. The people have spoken. They have turned their back on the President and are telling him loud and clear that they want change'. I've never seen Gana look so happy!

As they reached the results for Dakar, quartier after quartier was seized by the opposition - even Point E, where the President himself is from and where I saw him vote today, failed to be won by the current party.

The radio broadcasts in a mix of French and Wolof and suddenly there was a rapid announcement which I didn't understand but which made Gana jump up and start ranting.
'They are shutting the radio and tv stations' Gana explained. 'From tomorrow, all privatised radio and TV stations that haven't paid their advance will be forced to close'.

Apparently there are certain fees these stations have to pay. They are all usually late in paying, but then receive a bill reminder and at that stage they pay up. Yet the official broadcasting company suddenly announced that from tomorrow there would be no bill reminders; any company that is in arrears will have to shut down. Given that the media is broadcasting the election results direct into people's homes, which makes it much much harder for the results to be tampered with; and given the seeming opposition landslide victory which will naturally spark debates on the competence of the President, it is quite convenient that from tomorrow there will be nowhere for these debates to be held in public.

Just a coincidence? Hmm.

The radio broadcasters were threatening to ignore this government demand and open anyway. I asked Gana what would happen if they did: 'The police will come down hard on those that do open, but the public won't have it. Everyone is listening to the radio now. People won't stand for it. There will be demonstrations.'

We'll see what tomorrow brings. I'll be tuning in when I wake up, hoping to hear the radio on air and hoping for an official opposition victory. One thing for certain though, lunchtime in the office tomorrow will definitely be a lively affair!

"You're so fat!"

Got to love Senegalese flattery. This is what a colleague who I haven't seen in ages told me yesterday. 'You were thin when you arrived and now you are so fat!'. Er, thanks very much. Clearly I am enjoying the Senegalese national dish far too much - rice cooked in a bath of oil is deceptively fattening...



Anyway thought I would post some photos of where I live. It's Saturday night and am waiting to go out whilst trying to drown out the regular chanting outside with my own music. Last Saturday I didn't go out. Major error. The chanting went on till 4am so I hardly slept. Ear plugs are definitely on my list of things I wish I'd brought with me.





So this is my apartment block. Mine is the first floor balcony



My street! Always full of kids playing, especially on Saturdays. I can never get very far without a host of children shouting 'Toubab' (white person) and shaking my hand.


View from the roof.


At night, once the chanting stops, it;s silent apart from sheep bleating.



Had a good day today wandering around where I live. After months of feeling I had to wait to be invited to people's houses, have now realised that people just expect you to turn up - especially at meal times. Great news for me as it means I conveniently visit friend's houses just in time for food. Went to my downstair's neighbour's today.

The ground floor flat in my block has a little courtyard that my bedroom looks down onto. I hear various pounding, chopping and sizzling noises coming from the courtyard from about 7am, then the smell of cooking wafts up to my flat. Most people have a 'bonne', a young woman who prepares the meals and cleans. I always hear Rosalie, the girl who works downstairs, busy preparing food from about 7am. Today was rice with a sauce with meat, prawns, smoked fish and ochra. Even though i normally hate ochra, it was good. I found it a bit strange that everyone I know seems to have a 'bonne', but given that cooking takes at least 2 hours to prepare one meal, I now understand why.



This is at another neighbour's house. The family are from Cote d'Ivoire and are really kind to me, and their kids are adorable, altho every time they come over they seem to wreck something in the house.


This is my local shop. There are loads of these paintings everywhere in Dakar. They depict Maribouts, the religious leaders.



Making friends with the neighbours...




Mini bakery outside my flat; have never seen it open, although I think that's because I'm never up early enough.

Back in Dakar (eventually)

Rest of time in Ouaga involved lots of brochettes and beer at Ouaga Deux Gouts (genius name), a little maquis (street side open air bar) we found with a very friendly owner who even brought Clemmy and I some shea butter (beurre de Karite) that Burkina is famous for. Seeing as it was literally a plastic bag full of butter, wasn't the easiest thing for clem to transport home, so I ended up with two. Am going to have the softest skin ever!



Leaving Ouaga was slightly stressful. Turned up super early to the airport and was feeling very pleased with myself as for a once in my life was not running late and was at the front of a very long queue. Feeling smug didn't last very long when the check in woman told me 'You're not on the list of passengers'. 'Surely you're joking. I have my ticket here'. 'No, you're not on the list'. Patientez un peu'. Not that easy to be patient in a heaving airport with 2 suitcases and a giant bronze statue that i'd ended up buying in the village artisanal. Trying to leave the country at the end of Fespaco on prob their busiest day of the year was in hindsight not the best plan. I convinced myself that it would all be fine tho and i should stay calm and they would sort it out. Didn't exactly work out that way and no amount of sweet talking, ranting or tears would get me on that flight.


So after 2 extra days in ouaga, finally got another flight back to dakar. It was SO nice arriving back. It actually felt like coming home and I felt that real sense of familiarity -hearing Wolof, seeing the yellow taxis and the sea!



It's great flying into dakar in the day as you see the shape of the whole peninsula. Made me realise how built up dakar is too. Flying into Bamako in mali on the way to burkina and then landing into ouaga, it is just red earth and more red earth and you feel like you're landing in the middle of nowhere. Dakar has that real city feel.



Not sure how well it comes out in the photo but you get the idea!

You can see the style of buildings in dakar too - lots of flat roofs (like the one in my flat); great for hanging out washing in day and parties at night. Went to lots of Christmas/New year parties on people's roofs. Now it's too cold. Maybe when it starts to get hot again...



Got back to the flat. Everyone talks about the dust here. I now understand why. There was a thick layer or orange dust on my floor. Before i could do anything i had to sweep the whole flat. Don't know where it all comes from!

FESPACO!

My trip to Burkina fell at the same time as FESPACO film festival. Ouaga is not the most likely place for a film festival but cinema is huge here and every 2 years the city hosts Africa ’s largest film festival. I managed to make it to the opening and closing ceremonies without seeing a single film. Rubbish! The ceremonies were fun though.

Once we got in.

Wasn’t the most well organised event, and although I was with my friends who had media passes, we arrived just as the president did and after that it was impossible to get in via the press entrance.

By the time we resigned ourselves to having to go in the public way, the stadium was already getting packed and there was a moment when we were pushed through the entrance and the metal doors were rammed shut behind us on an increasingly agitated crowd, that I had a slight panic that there might be a stampede. Still, once in the stadium we clambered across others till we found space to sit down. It was only once we found seats that I realised what the cardboard on sale outside was for. The orange dust that is everywhere had not certainly not escaped the stadium and I resigned myself to having an orange bum!

Me and Clem in the stadium, relieved to be safely inside!

The women on the welcoming committee for the president and all the other important people had these matching Fespaco outfits.

Thousands of people were packed in to see a display of dancing, giant puppets, music and slightly random somersaulting gymnasts. The prize giving ceremony dragged on a bit (prob because the speakers didn’t work well so couldn’t really hear what was going on, and having missed all the films I didn’t know who was up for any awards!) Fun just people watching in the stadium though.

And trying all the different types of snacks on sale: fried plantain chips were my favourite; carrots and hard boiled eggs were among the more random offerings. Not my idea of the perfect snack in 40 degree heat…

Me and Clem with the prize giving going on in the background.

Worth the wait for the fireworks at the end though. The crowd went crazy!

Refreshing to see a more positive image of a country and continent that is generally portrayed in such a negative light. Just a shame the festival and the films don’t get wider coverage outside of Africa .

International Women's Day

8th March: International Women’s Day, is big here. As it falls on a Sunday this year, we celebrated it in the office today (Friday). All the women were invited to meet and reflect on women’s rights and the challenges women face at work. The country director invited thoughts from the female staff on what they find hard at work and what Plan can do to make life easier.

After a discussion of the difficulties of balancing work and child care, and women’s responsibility for cooking and cleaning, the team decided that next year men should be invited to the celebrations so they can better understand the challenges facing women and be part of the solution.

Then, to celebrate being women, we had cake :-)

This talk of the importance of women and their rights doesn't stop advertising and imagery that continues to portray women as inferior or the weaker sex, though. Like this advert for yamaha ...

Obamania!

Obama is huge here. Have seen loads of posters or Obama references, or painted pictures of him (like in this outdoor bar – sharing the hall of fame with Nelson Mandela, and Bob Marley!) One of my colleagues here also has 2 framed pictures on his desk – one of Mandela and one of Obama, with YES WE CAN typed at the bottom.

Obamania continues out here.

Strawberries and vultures

I’d never really put strawberries and Burkina Faso together, and kind of thought I’d imagined it when I drove past women selling small pink things by the side of the road. But apparently the missionaries introduced strawberries and grapes to Burkina and now they grow really well. Slightly random. Delicious find tho!

Burkina is hot hot hot. And orange. And dry. Everything I own has now turned orange, including my feet, and my lips are constantly cracked no matter how much I try and rescue them with magic 8 Hour Cream.

I’ve just got back from 3 days in the field visiting projects a few hours north of Ouaga. It’s been so interesting to get out of the capital and get an insight into rural life. Unlike Dakar where you sit in traffic for hours trying to get through all the suburbs until you finally escape the city, you only need to drive about 20mins outside Ouaga and it immediately feels really rural, with traditional mud brick houses and straw huts to store grain.

I always find it weird being on dead straight roads, prob because it’s so unlike Britain ! We drove for at least an hour on a tarmac road without turning one corner. The Harmattan (wind that blows from the Sahara ) that comes in Feb/March makes everything really hazy, almost foggy, so upfront the road disappeared quickly into the horizon and behind there was just a big cloud of orange dust from the car. We left the main road and drove for another hour or so on a dirt road that becomes impassable in rainy season. Apparently after the rains, crops grow and the whole place becomes green again. Right now I can’t imagine anything ever growing there. It’s so barren.

Once we reached Boulsa, the provincial ‘capital’ I realised why I couldn’t find it in my guidebook. With donkeys, dirt roads and few concrete buildings, it felt more like a big village than a town. Our projects are a further hour’s drive from Boulsa and you feel a million miles away even from Ouaga, let alone London .

The project I was visiting was a Water and Sanitation project which basically means lots of latrines and water pumps! It’s quite a complex process building a water pump as I’ve been finding out. First you have to stick electric cables in the ground to check the resistance to the current. If resistance is weak it means there’s likely to be water conducting the electricity. Then you drill a hole, sometimes 80m deep, to see if there really is water. The project staff were telling me it’s an amazing sight when the drilling takes place and the water suddenly shoots up out of the ground and the whole village erupts in cheers knowing that water has been found. Would love to be there for that. Finding water isn’t enough though. You then have to check the pressure and pump continuously for several hours to check the pressure stays consistent. Once you’re happy that there is enough water, you then have to send a sample to be checked for arsenic. It’s such a complicated process and in this region, there is only a 61% chance of finding drinkable water underground.

One of the water pumps we visited. Not the best picture but you get the idea!

On our last day while visiting another water pump we met an old man from the village. He told me that they used to use a well to fetch water but in recent years the water from there had started to get dirty. Apparently wells only have a certain amount of water. You have to dig much deeper underground to reach a permanent water source. He said that since they have been drinking the water from the pump, he’s noticed a lot less people complaining of stomach problems, especially children and fewer cases of diarrhoea. We chatted to him for quite a while in the searing heat until he invited us back to his home. There we met his wives and at least 15 children.

When we first turned up the women ran away, but then they came back laughing having changed their clothes as they said they were too scruffy to receive visitors! The kids took a big shine to us and to my camera, finding it hysterical to see themselves on the digital screen. We were invited to sit down under the straw shelter and eat peanuts. We were surrounded by hens and baby chicks, who kept pecking at my feet.. As we left, the old man gave me a live chicken as a present. Very humbling to see how grateful they were for the waterpump and how generous they were to me.

We carried on till we found what I guess was a little restaurant by the side of the road. Altho they didn’t actually have any food to sell us so not quite sure how it’s classified as a restaurant! Anyway we gave them our chicken and they killed it and cooked that. So we had a meal of grilled chicken and more grilled chicken.

Lunch! (chicken not child)

Slightly surreal eating lunch surrounded by a flock of vultures intent on devouring whatever was left on the bones that we threw away. Not the most relaxing meal given my total bird phobia! And I thought pigeons were bad. Fortunately (for us at least), half way through lunch a truck hit a goat on the road and I think that made the vultures’ day. We were just discussing how every animal has its uses and how vultures do the ‘cleaning’. The flock swarmed the road-kill and literally within 20 minutes the dead goat was nothing but a skeleton.

They are serious birds.

No wonder they freaked me out.