Soul Train Lines, Hyenas at Night, and the Bustling Fishing Village of Djiffer

PALMARIN

We left the Sine-Saloum Delta by noon for the boat and returned to the mainland where our driver was waiting for us. We took the hour-long trek to the stretch of coast known as Palmarin, stopping at a salt mine for a few photos.  We eventually checked into Le Yokam, nestled between the lonely highway and the shore.  The beach was littered with trash but camouflaged better than most beaches we’ve seen along the coast.  The waves were rough with algae.  I took a dip to escape the funk and sweat that had accumulated on my skin.  Immediately, I felt the sting of jelly fish.  Guess I should have known from the sporadic dead fish washed up on the shore.  Megan and I took a two-hour stroll down the shore line until we arrived to a large group of teens hanging out on the beach.  The boys were playing soccer and the girls dancing in Soul Train fashion.  It didn’t take long for them to notice our white faces and invite us over to introduce themselves.  It was a school and the girls seemed very interested in having us dance with them.  Megan did her Detroit swing and have to say they were impressed with her moves.  Me, not so much.  I quietly removed myself from the sands and began speaking with their teacher.  I explained to him I was a social science teacher from Miami and we began exchanging emails for the opportunity to have our future classes to become pen pals. 

salt mine mounds

We returned to a quiet camp and had dinner under candle light and decided to retire to the bungalows rather early.  The sounds of the waves gently lured me to the hammock outside.  It was surprisingly cold despite being summertime in Senegal.  I tucked myself into the hammock with several blankets and soon passed out.  Soon, I was awakened to the sounds of hyenas rummaging through a trash bin nearby.  Laying still as a board, I peered through the covers and could see them sniffing the air in wonderment.  I must have smelled my presence but after a minute or so, went back to nibbling food from the bin.  Eventually, the pack took off into the night. 

DJIFFER

natural erosion ruptured the peninsula in 1987.  The village of Djiffer hangs on

With such little time and so many places to see, we were indecisive on which route we wanted to take on our return to Dakar.  By the end of breakfast, we decided to visit a lonely fishing village a little further south to the Point of Sangomar.  In 1987, erosion from the Atlantic ruptured a one kilometer break in the peninsula, creating the island of Sangomar.  Since then, about five kilometers of peninsula has eroded, which no sign of stopping.  So, for now, Djiffer is the furthest point on the connected end of this fragile peninsula. 

entrance to Djiffer

Vietnamese - Senegalese man, in front of his restaurant

Because of its ideal location to the mouth of the Sine-Saloum Delta and the Atlantic, the residents of Djiffer are fully immersed in the fishing industry.  We arrived to the gateway of the city and knew immediately, it was gonna an stimulating experience, as it was bustling with people.  We drew a lot of curious stares and hired a local guide to show us around.  We began walking down the main drag, which is a narrow dirt road the length of the town.  On both sides were small concrete store fronts: hair salon, convenience store, pool hall, cell phone kiosk, bank, and to my surprise a Vietnamese-Senegalese restaurant.  I couldn’t believe my eyes!  Why the hell is there a Vietnamese restaurant in a small fishing village in one of the most remote places in Senegal?  My answer came out and greeted us.  I didn’t get his name, but the owner came out to introduce himself.  He explained he was born to a Senegalese soldier and Vietnamese mother during the time France was trying to recolonize Vietnam after WWII.  He was around seventy, with both Asian and African features.  He took a real interest in me as well.  It’s not every day you meet another half Asian backpacking, let alone in West Africa.  He had a warm fatherly smile and welcomed us to eat the next day, as they didn’t have any food available in this moment.  Unfortunately, we were only in Djiffer for a few more hours and had to painfully decline.  Would have loved to try some of that Senegalese/Vietnamese fusion. 

gris gris shop (animist traditions)

We continued on, passing narrow alley ways, peering into the open concrete work spaces, where everyone was involved in something related to fishing.  On the delta side of the peninsula is a long stretch of wooden benches and racks used for drying and salting seafood. The living space and work space of Djiffer fuses like their food.  Teenage boys making fishing nets.  A man gutting stingrays.  Two guys salting fish.  Another guy stacking fish to be dried.  A guy with cerebral palsy training his teenage apprentices in boat building.  Women inspecting their husbands’ fresh catch.  Refrigerated trucks pulling up to be filled with fresh fish to be delivered to Dakar.  It was no secret that ninety-percent of the town works in the seafood industry.  They have a full operation going on here in Djiffer, processing all types of seafood. And mixed in with all of this was plastic bags littered everywhere.  Younger boys playing soccer, while a goats rummage through trash.  There are no boundaries.  Every space just seems to blend like Senegalese and Vietnamese food.  These are the scenes I live for when traveling.  Anything, that peaks the five senses all at once and forces my mind’s full attention!  Foreign market places always do it for me.