My colleagues and I arrived in the evening of April 30 in
Dakar, Senegal to spend the week visiting Plan offices there
. Upon arriving, we passed quickly and easily though customs. Our yellow fever vaccinations were not verified, I guess they don't care if you bring the disease into the country. When we came out of the passport ‘control’ area, we collected our bags, which miraculously arrived with us, and watched other passengers place the large bags back through another security screening machine; it was all very strange, no one instructed us to do this as well, and there was no metal detector to pass through ourselves, like regular security. After getting through this checkpoint, we found ourselves suddenly in a room with a swarm of people waiting outside along a fence to try and sell thing to us and offer us a taxi. Luckily, we found the Plan taxi driver holding a sign front and center with no problems as, shell shocked, we made our way to the taxis chartered by Plan.
Dakar is much more ‘real Africa’ than what I saw in South Africa last December, since I hit all the touristy areas that are more developed when I was there. The roads in Dakar are full of potholes, only occasionally have distinct lanes painted on them, and are lined on either side by dirt and sand on which pedestrians walk everywhere you go. There are trees, providing a little bit of greenery to the otherwise very bland sand color everywhere else. The taxis would surely not pass a vehicle inspection in the US, are fueled by diesel gas, and all look like they’ve seen their fair share of traffic accidents. This is not really surprising considering that traffic lights and stop signs are virtually non-existent. Drivers get through intersections using well-timed aggression and their horns to warn of impending approach. I wouldn’t last a minute driving here.
Since we landed, I have been thanking my lucky stars that I made the fortuitous decision in university to major in French. It really paid off this week in Senegal, where none of my 3 colleagues could speak the language, though Tanya knows some basic words from high school French classes. I took up the role of translator and completed most transactions for the group, like lining up subsequent taxi rides with our Plan taxi driver and ordering food at resta
urants.
Our hotel was a welcome retreat: The Airport Hotel was just a 10 minute drive (if that) from the airport and was very nice. The center area felt like a Spanish villa with arched walkways and a pool. Our first night there, we were quite timid and decided to eat at the adjoining hotel restaurant to play it safe. This must have been one of the nicest restaurants in town and certainly wasn’t cheap.
The next morning, our first day in Senegal, was a bank holiday: May 1 (May Day), so we went to the regional office with the intention of using the facilities there to work most of the day. This is the West Africa Regional Office (WARO) for Plan, which covers the program work being implemented across the entire West Africa region. Around 1:30 PM we went out to lunch with the Regional Office web editor, who we were meeting with the next day, and who had kindly given up a few hours of her holiday to meet us and take us to lunch since we were visitors in her country. We then went back to the hotel where I had asked them to arrange a tour of Gorée Island for us.
Rather than an official tour, our hotel elected to send one of their English-speaking university-educated reception staff along with us to make sure we weren’t hassled and to answer our questions as we toured around. Gorée Island was used for 350 years as the primary outpost for selling and shipping black African slaves to the United States. There are several
slave houses there, but one has been converted into a museum of sorts for visitors, called the Maison des Esclaves.
This slave house was very small and fills its visitors with dread and sadness. The rooms are constructed of thick brick and 
concrete. There are tiny holding cells where 20+ men were forced to stay with not even enough room to sit down. Women were separated into another room, and children into yet another. There were tiny holding rooms, or ‘prisons’, for those who attempted revolt or put up a fight, as though the building itself weren’t prison enough. These tiny rooms were underneath the staircases and the captives had to crouch or sit while detained there, sometimes for many days in a row, with no food. The psychological effect must have certainly contributed to breaking their spirits as well as only the ‘masters’ walked up and down those stairs, effectively walking on the ‘prisoners’ beneath them.
There is a door in the center and at the very back of the house, called the ‘door of no return.’ It was out this door that gangways led to the large slave ships where the slaves would forever leave their home and families behind. Many famous people have visited this site and taken a photo at this door, such as George W. and Laura Bush, Bill Clinton, Nelson Mandela, and Pope John Paul II. The message is stressed that events that took place here must never be forgotten, but rather learned from to prevent such terrible human suffering in the future.
We strolled around lovely Gorée Island for a little while longer and enjoyed the surroundings. Gorée doesn’t have the same destitute, dirty feeling that mainland Dakar has, though there is still begging and random ‘merchants’ to be found there. Indeed, our ‘tour guide’ who simply presented himself to us and started telling us the history rather than asking if we wanted a guide in the first place, tried to get 5,000 cfa (US$10) out of each of the 4 of us for his ‘services’ as we prepared to board the ferry home. We were having none of this so we shoved a 10,000 cfa bill at him and took off for the ferry. He wasn’t too pleased, but still ended up with more than he deserved.
The next day we had our meeting with the West African Regional Office (WARO) communications and marketing teams – a total of 3 people. It was great for our project analysis to get the other perspective from the field programming rather than from the offices in developed countries where fundraising and sponsorship takes place. It was also interesting to learn the working style of West Africans: in each meeting, someone must be a designated facilitator who does the introductions and supervises the agenda in a more formal way than other cultures might do. The woman who took this role for our meeting is a native German and has learned this style and so followed it appropriately. She has worked for Plan for 17 years and spent 15 of those out in Togo, ultimately becoming the Country Director out there, the highest management position in a country. Now she works at the regional office and considers Dakar to be very advanced with lots of resources at hand. I’m not so sure I want to know what Togo is like, in that case!! Her children were born here and enthusiastically encouraged their vegetarian mother to kill the ram that had been given her as a gif
t from the field, as they knew that was the appropriate thing to do with a ram. Wow.
Dinner our third night was at the Indian restaurant not far from our hotel. It’s called, of all things, ‘Indiana’. I am fairly positive that the owner does not know there is a midwestern state in the US by this name as well… Are there any Indians in Indiana? Hilarious. Houman and I couldn’t stop laughing.
Thursday, our last day in Dakar, we visited the Country Office: Plan Senegal, which administers and monitors all the program work that Plan International does in Senegal. There are an astounding 690 community villages that partner with Plan in Senegal. All the staff in the Country Office, in the field, and who volunteer are Senegalese. It’s amazing to see the sheer numbers of local people (over 200) who care so much to improve their situation in their country. We saw again in our meeting that morning with the Country Management Team the West African style of holding meetings, with a formal facilitator; I was happy I knew to expect it.
The Country perspective was also immensely helpful as we learned what many of the barriers and misunderstandings are currently in place preventing the countries from having effective websites and contributing content to the International and National sites for Plan. During the meeting, strong and delicious African coffee was served in little espresso cups, along with small plates of peanuts. I ate about two plates on my own, they were so delicious. At lunch, I asked our Plan Senegal colleagues about the agriculture of Senegal and learned that peanuts are a primary crop produced here. That explains it. I made my enthusiasm known, perhaps too enthusiastically, because when we returned to the office I was presented with a plastic bag full of peanuts to take back with me! (NOTE: Keep this gift in mind if you read the next few posts...) We were also given a few Plan t-shirts left over from the large radio campaign they held, called Tundu Dior, as well as a ball cap from the same event.
At this point, it was time to drive out to a suburb of Dakar to see some of the program work that Plan is doing in the country. We visited an early childhood development center, called Fass Mbao, that Plan built for the local community. There is little awareness in the Senegalese education system of the importance of early childhood education and development. Children start school when they’re 7 years old and not before. The Plan school is for children aged 2 – 6 years old and is not staffed by Plan people, but rather by local volunteers from the community who want to be involved with the children, primarily the mothers. Plan provides guidance for curriculum and other support. There is also a youth club for children aged 7 – 18 where they can interact socially, and learn other skills, such as theatre and tie-dying.
When we arrived at the school, our first stop was into the early childhood classroom. I sat in the guest chair procured for me in the front and gazed out at 30+ darling little African faces with their huge eyes peering back at me intently. Again, these were the kids aged 2 – 6 years old and they were utterly precious. They broke out into song at the prompting of their teacher and then acted out a little skit meant to teach them some basic conversational French, as the native language, Wolof, is what is spoken primarily in the homes. After the little ones, we went into the next room over and watched the youth club sing along with a soloist in the middle of the circle and accompanied by two drummers. It was an amazing performance, infectious and engaging.
