I had agreed to go talk to some musicians for my project, so I was on the move for the evening. I met the Kora player (Kora is like a traditional harp, see one of my first posts for a more accurate description) at the conservatory, and he told me that I was welcome to come to the band practice and talk to the other musicians he knew that hadn’t had a formal education if I wanted.
Like most of the rest of experiences during the ISP period (Independent Study Project) I found myself heading out somewhere with no clue as to my destination. I took a car rapide to a bus stop, and from there was told to take the bus to the end of the line. Now imagine, the most crowded bus you have ever been on. Think hard, and now double that, and that is where I was. The bus pulled up, and all the people waiting rushed up, trying to squeeze their way on first to secure their spot. I ended up being the last on, and was hanging on the doors, not really fitting in.
Finally we squeezed in and the doors slammed closed behind me. There was a woman sitting on the seats closest to the door, her spot surrounded by glass, no doubt so no one could invade her space, and she was the designated ticketer. I was smashed up against the bar on the edge of her seat, crushed by the people behind and and the step above me, and the doors. Everytime they opened I had to push back hard on the other passenger behind me so as not to get run over.
This continued for about 30 minutes, as I watched the city pass by me. Slowly the bus emptied, and by the end I was able to see the others seats, and then I was able to snag one. Unfortunately that moment of triumph didn’t last long as I had made it to my destination (I only knew this because I saw my contact in the street yelling “get off here!!” at me as soon as the bus slowed). Even though I have lived in Dakar for close to 4 months, I had yet to ride a public bus like that. That small accomplishment made me very proud, and really being that cramped was not so bad.
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