War naa gen dëkk bi!

'I gotta get out of this town!' I've been especially bad at communication this past week, so if you're reading this wondering where the hell I am, what on Earth I'm doing with myself, at least know that you are not alone. Even the friends I run into here in Dakar - yes, I'm still in town - give me astonished looks. "You're still here!? Weren't you going to...??"

So here - if at all possible briefly - is the story. I'd promised myself, along with a good number of other people, that I would leave Dakar last Monday morning. After weeks of dawdling and discussion here in Dakar, I was finally to start the 'research' I'm hoping to do this semester. I'd hop on some form of public transport back to good old, broiling hot Tambacounda. From there I'd hire a taxi or combine a bus ride with some hiking to reach the village of Medina Kuta, on the northern border of Senegal's largest National Park, Niokola Koba. After that, the schedule of events gets a little more fuzzy, but I reckoned that I'd figure it out pretty quickly upon arrival.

The idea is to spend some time in this village and the surrounding area in order to specify what research I can actually accomplish while here. Going to Medina Kouta allows me to combine the 'official' support of the Non-Government Organization CRESP EcoYoff with the more helpful expertise of Prof. Cheikh Mbow. After 3 weeks in the area, I'll return to Dakar to - with any luck, "insh'alla" - write a nice, formal, academically-satisfying research proposal. After that I go back to Medina Kuta to do the real research.

By last Saturday morning, I'd started packing my bags, and was just beginning to worry about how to acquire a ticket for the 'express bus' to Tambacounda, when I was struck by one final, pre-departure task: I'd yet to change the date of my airline ticket back home. For the city of Dakar, this one yet another opportunity to snag me down, just as I was hitting the road.

As my pre-Senegal at least partially organized self, I booked my Senegal plane tickets well in advance, in April 2005. However at the time I was informed that it was impossible to book the return ticket for May that far ahead of time. I know some other folks who were however, able to do so, but I'll get to that point in a moment. So, happily I bought the return ticket for March 1 with the assurance that it could be easily changed once I was in Senegal.

With this in mind I hitched a taxi to South Africa's downtown office Saturday morning to take care of business "taf, taf" as they say here. Quite familiar with South African airways' various locations across town after the little Christmas hastle with my parents, I quietly entered the slightly run-down, glass-front office, sat down, and politely began the dialogue in Wolof. (to be finished)