Bassari Festival!

About a week and a half ago I went down to Kedougou with some other volunteers to witness a Bassari initiation festival. The event was located in a village about 80 Kilometers from Kedougou, so we had to take a 2 hour car ride, followed by a 2 hour hike to get to the village. My first impression of the area was how different the landscape is. Instead of dry, desert like plains with nothing but sand in sight for miles, we were greeted by beautiful rolling hills with pretty little villages sprinkled across the area. Arriving at night, there was a pre-initiation party that was a blast to attend, since there probably enough palm wine going around to supply the U.S Army.
The next morning, the true festivities began. Young boys, averaging 12-14 years old, watched as the seasoned warriors paraded around the village, dressed head to toe in their war tunics. It was quite an impressive sight. After a few hours of slow but entertaining parades, a small level of chaos broke out. With no warning whatsoever, everyone started running down the hill. Trying hard not to fall, I sped down the hill in my Chacos, not really understanding what was going on. Once at the bottom, we found that there was a large plain, and immediately we knew why everyone had hurried down. The ritualistic fights were set to begin. Each young boy would be given wooden weapons to test his mettle against one of the warriors. During the combat stage, no women were allowed within 200 yards or so (the girls in our group were promptly forced to leave and back up the hill). Also, photography was strictly prohibited (this rule was fanatically upheld, with perpetrators having their cameras snatched away from them). Thus, one by one, the young men took their turns fighting the older, much stronger men. Usually, after about one or two swings, the combatants dropped their weapons and wrestled until one was taken to the ground. Of about 40 or so fights we saw, only once did the youth come out victorious. It was incredibly fun to watch, since shouting and jeering seemed to be encouraged.

On the road to Kedougou, waiting so that our driver could bribe the police...

Some Bassari warriors

After the fighting was over, we packed up our gear and headed back to Kedougou. Coming into Kedougou had taken us 13 hours, since we had rented out a 7place to leave from Thies at 5am. However, my trip home was not destined to be so quick. Combined, it took me approximately 22 hours to get back to Ngaye. Either way, it was a great trip and I'm happy to have seen some of my friends down there. As for work, our basket order is in full swing, and I will be going to different villages this week to hand out the first round of salaries and do some quality control. Aside from that, I may start working with some women's groups in town that try to sell and advocate solar ovens. Finally, I'm finishing up a fancy little brochure for my leather workers so that they can have something to hand out when they go to the artisanal expo in Dakar early next month. Anyways, I hope everyone is doing well back home. Ba ci kanaam!

P.S I got my supervisor to sign my vacation form today. Serbia here I come!

The Trek

As the crow flies, I live 18 miles from the ocean. Since this distance seems rather minimal in the grand scale of things, I've always wanted to walk to the ocean from Ngaye. I brought this idea up to a few people, each time garnering some questionable looks. But apparently I've become quite convincing, and managed to sucker 3 friends of mine into this adventure. Thus, Thursday night, 4 of us (Thomas, Daniel, Justin and I) met at a fantastic chicken restaurant in Thies to have a feast (1st picture) before the start of the trek. We then took a cab back to my town, where we made some last minute preparations and got a decent nights sleep.

At precisely 5:30AM the next morning, we charged out of my house with our headlamps and headed west. Our goal was to make it to Mboro (a town 2-3 miles from the ocean) where we would regroup with a volunteer there and then continue onto the ocean. As the sun slowly rose in our backs (2nd picture), we walked briskly, intent of making as much progress as possible while it was still fairly cool out. Soon enough, we were trudging through sandy field after sandy field, still going directly west. While trudging through these fields, we spotted some dunes far in the distance, and wondered what we would find behind them. About 5 hours later, we finally hit the dunes (3rd picture - Myself and Justin), climbing them in a nervous energy to see the view from the top (4th picture). For such a barren territory, we were all shocked at the austere beauty of the view from the top. We also made an interesting discovery from the top of these dunes: between us and the ocean lay a massive posphorous factory stretching several miles of land. To get to Mboro, we would simply have to walk right through the middle of the factorys grounds. Approaching the gargatuan man-made mountains of rock, we silently wondered if this was a good idea. After all, if 4 random hikers walked through the heart of a U.S factory snooping around, they would quickly be dispatched and told never to come back.

Upon arriving at the heart of the factory, we were relieved to see that everyone was incredibly friendly to us. Not only were the employees fine with us being there, they were elated to see toubabs walking around and speaking Wolof to them. So, after a healthy detour at the factory (5th picture), we made our way through the end of it, to find some dry stretches of land. For me, this would be the most tenuous part of the trip. Having thus far avoided any blisters on my feet, I was feeling great and at the front of the pack. Suddenly, the dry earth (6th picture)started getting softer, and then much softer. Before I could make a comment, my right leg sank straight into soft (and seemingly neverending) mud. Blurting out my share of expletives, I was helped out of the trap by Daniel. So yes, I've essentially been a victim of quicksand, as my shoe and leg were caked with enough mud to make any sign of skin invisible. For about another 2 hours, we trudged along, our pace slowing quite a bit due to blisters and the increasingly intense heat of the day. Passing through the fertile (and beatiful) fields near Mboro, we could sense the finish line. Finally, at around 4pm, we were met by Devon (the Mboro volunteer) on the national route going into Mboro. Handing each one of us a cold beer, he commented that the ocean was still probably 2 hours away by foot. Downing our beers, we decided that we were spent and that our trek would end here in Mboro (7th picture...notice the caked mud on my leg).


After spending a few hours at Devon's and in the local bar, we limped into cars and headed to our respective homes. Around 9:30pm, I staggered back into my home. Needless to say, my host family was flaberghasted that I would do such a thing and quickly let me know that I was absolutely insane, yet brave. Strangely enough, I wasn't all that sore today considering we ended up walking around 25 miles (due to our navigational errors). I am elated that we were able to pull this off, because it showed us all that this region of the country does have some really cool areas that need to be explored some more. I don't think the walk will be repeated for quite some time, but the next time it is, I feel confident that I'll be there.