Trusting the Process: Relying on my Compass in West Africa and Within
SENEGAL
He pulled apart his jacket revealing the logo, a grand gesture that made it seem like he was actually Superman underneath. The chatter of the many men who were offering their services at the border instantaneously became unnecessary – my driver had found me. I’d just completed immigration in a tiny unmarked room down a winding corridor where a random immigration guy escorted me through ‘the process’ (then asked for my number and offered for me to stay with him on my next trip to Senegal).
Land crossings usually offer unique and eclectic experiences. With the driver at my side, I called upon my limited French, some charades and a whole lot of trusting the process to execute my ambitious plan.
Awaking at dawn, ending my short tour of The Gambia, I had driven from the resort area to the country’s capital Banjul with my DJ driver Yankuba then crossed a passenger ferry to the northern Gambia side where I met a (random) forensic police officer (who wanted my Whatsapp number) a well-known man who hi-fived a lot of the lingering lads as he arranged for me to take a shared taxi to the border. Throwback to the days without cell phone connections, yet somehow these cross country transfers worked!
I climbed into the rickety car of my Senegalese driver, wondering if I or this car were going to make it up to Dakar that day.
Aside from that foreshadowing, we were off to a good start following my first stop and walk with the lions at Fatahla Park.
Sometime later, we stopped for a chawarma. Lebanese food in West Africa is so predominant given the significant population living there. China is also deeply connected in various regions, directing infrastructure development and having a stronghold in the fishing sector. Canadian companies lead the way in mining and several other nationalities who speak French flock to the country to also take from what Senegal has to offer.
It wasn’t feasible to see all the major mid country sites that I wanted, so we opted to explore the Great Mosque of Touba enroute. Our car had different plans however. After several stops to top up the ‘important fluid’ under the hood, I found myself sitting at a local bus stop while we waited for the mechanic to arrive with the ‘important part’. Subtle and overt people watching ensued.
While I soaked up the variety of Senegalese in front of me, I was clearly on display for those who were waiting on transport and those that came by to say hi.
The tiny stand at the round-about showcased young boys with jeans at their thighs (their colourful chudis displayed underneath) sprawled on straw mats resting their heads on small rocks. An older Mze’s arrival scurried the guys, which then offered him space to say his salat, therein converting the loungey vibe into a sacred space. An aunty who shared a sliver of wooden bench between us scanned me top to bottom non-stop while the local mamas selling various mysterious items in small plastic packets stole sideways stares.
Although I had plans to meet up with the lads in the capital, at this point going with the flow was the best (and only) option. So, I chatted with the locals and tried not to give out my WhatsApp number to too many of them.
As nature called, I visited a local home nearby only to discover that within the compound of their house, the first room (fully built but with dirt floors) was dedicated to their goats.
Finally, after much reflection on the meaning of life, timing and destiny, the car was coaxed back into action. The Mze who told me his whole life story (and whose WhatsApp number I was given) scored a lift to Touba with us too, thanks to the generosity of my driver.
The mosque is a must feel (and see). Majestic in its architectural design, spacious without being overbearing, the nooks and crannies that offer various perspectives of beauty also catalyze connection to the Creator.
Appropriately covered, I floated from one area to the next. Though I’d wanted to be there much sooner, sundown saturated the style and shape of domes, archways, fountains and hallways giving me a better view than I’d planned #UniverseInAction.
I had a taste of the local version of KFC during the long night drive to the capital. Reneging on the late-night dinner with the guys once there, I splurged on a shower and rest, overjoyed to have reliable basics. [A gentle nudge for you to insert your gratitude for running water, electricity, etcetera here].
Meeting the gang the next day and seeing just how cool they were, I had some serious FOMO for not spending that night with them … but acquiesced then that my body knew what she needed to do.
How effortless is it to slide into regret, to let fear, ‘should’ or ‘what if’ take over? I think back to my centering experiences in Côte d’Ivoire – indeed, it is in sharing vulnerabilities where we birth self-expansion.
On a forest walk in the heart of Abidjan Côte d'Ivoire, a sweet sista reminded me of my inborn GPS. To road test this at a bifurcation of avenues and agendas, in the midst of honks and hoots at the local market, she spun around, squared and held my shoulders as she stared at me intently.
Softly she demanded, what is it that you want to do?
The pause was pregnant with possibilities, both existentially and in real time. This tiny yet aptly timed exercise awoke in me the sense of my senses and nudged me to trust my compass, be it in West Africa, or hopefully at home too. So while I may have felt I missed out on some action, this was just day one in Senegal …
May we trust the process and know that here is where we’re supposed to be,