October 2, 2019 - The excitement you feel when you travel to a new country unfortunately no longer lasts, but another one comes instead: will they get to know you, how much have you grown, are they happy with the gifts, will I know all the way through do the program. Can I take everything, since the gifts and packages just pile up, but can they fit in 2 x 23 kg and once in 12 kg? But, of course, everything will be solved, everything will fit, I can even check in my personal luggage, which in the end is only 10 kg (which contains only my things and the office) for free, there are so many passengers on the planes, so I travel comfortably. More than an hour until I get through passport control in Dakar. Of course, you should tell me the address and phone number of where I live, but I only have the name of the accommodation. This seems to be a common answer, I can see the doubt on the face of the soldier doing the inspection, and of course I remember that Senegal is a favorite destination for aging white ladies who want to disconnect for 1-2 weeks and feel like a desirable young woman again...
Abdou waited patiently. Abdou is a treasure, he will be my driver, interpreter, and tour guide for the next 8 days. Good-humoured, pleasant company, good to work with and travel with. By the time we get to the accommodation, we have already agreed on the program - which will certainly not go the way we want, but this is Africa, you have to adapt flexibly, Inchallah, as the locals say.
The first 2 days start with an overview of the Art for Life program. It actually started 1 year ago, so we can see what was not good and what should be changed. Our initial fears, which arose during the visit to the schools, where they bet everywhere that these children were very behind, that there would be serious problems, fortunately did not materialize. More or less everyone did well, much better than we thought. So today is spent in the spirit of award distribution, school payments, and marketing. At least that was the plan…
The day started with us sitting in front of the Turkish embassy for 1.5 hours because Abdou arranged something "quickly". I sat in the car, in the hot sun, and waited. Then the withdrawal was only possible at the 4th bank, and of course all machines only spoke French. Well, we haven't learned how to withdraw money yet... but I struggled with it, although sometimes I was afraid of when the machine would swallow the card and it was only after many attempts that I was able to guess the maximum amount of money that it was willing to issue.
Of course, you don't even think of such things when you arrive at Camara Ház, where some of our little artist seedlings live. We fight our way through the dark corridor and the herd of sheep moving in the opposite direction, and approx. 15 of us, we climb the life-threatening stairs without barriers to the terrace on the first floor and the drums and gourds are already playing, the peul flute played and the 2-year-old shook his naked little bottom like a white person only dreams of. The whole family, at least 30 people, dances on the barely 6 m2, adults and children enter the impromptu party, regardless of age or gender. It turned out that we don't have much time, because today is the 61st anniversary of Guinea's independence, there will be a big party, where the "Petit Camara", that is, our children, will perform and give a show. There are about 40 of us in the 25 m2 room we go into, the air is cool, 36 °C. I shake hands with the old mothers and grandmothers who live here, they go through the usual rounds of politeness. I hand out the gifts, I say a few words to each child, you studied well, we are proud of you, try harder, I pat those who go first now.
Shining eyes, proud happy smiles wherever I look, which shine even brighter and open wide with wonder - especially from the parents - when I present Mariama, Adama and Mamadou Babeng with the prize money for good studies. Not much money, but they can buy themselves a few things. Then comes the line of applicants, we would need money for that as well, but I say that unfortunately we don't have money growing on trees either, but we'll see what we can do.
Finally, we go shopping, and to my great surprise, what I thought was a residential building turns out to be a huge market maze. We're going through this, haggling here and there: there was a supporter who sent money instead of a package, now we're spending that. We gallop through the labyrinth, out into the dusty street with the rotten smell of open sewers, the children bargain, try on, and finally everyone buys shoes and clothes, whatever they wanted. Then we spend an hour or so at the well-known textbook store, in the narrow, barely 2-meter-wide hole, crammed with 6-7 other people while 3-4 purchases are made at the same time. They collect the school supplies of the girls who paid for school this morning. I'm getting very dizzy here, my water is left in the car and I'm terribly hungry around 3 pm, but at least there's a good fan, so at least the water doesn't flow off me as much. Returning to the house, we take photos of the compositions, get some rice with onion sauce, and head to the celebration. In Dakar afternoon traffic, we cover a distance of just under 600 meters in 1.5 hours. A crazy cavalcade of pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages and mopeds, everyone is pushing, every car is pulled over, yet they don't scream, they sit calmly and know that sooner or later they will get to where they are going anyway. Our children's program has long since gone down, I think. But this is Africa, the celebration announced for 2 o'clock hasn't even started by the time we get there. The hall is full of ladies and gentlemen dressed in beautiful Guinean costumes, dark purple-brown polka-dotted dresses everywhere. The hall is huge, but rather dilapidated, air nuku.
Finally, we go shopping, and to my great surprise, what I thought was a residential building turns out to be a huge market maze. We're going through this, haggling here and there: there was a supporter who sent money instead of a package, now we're spending that. We gallop through the labyrinth, out into the dusty street with the rotten smell of open sewers, the children bargain, try on, and finally everyone buys shoes and clothes, whatever they wanted. Then we spend an hour or so at the well-known textbook store, in the narrow, barely 2-meter-wide hole, crammed with 6-7 other people while 3-4 purchases are made at the same time. They collect the school supplies of the girls who paid for school this morning. I'm getting very dizzy here, my water is left in the car and I'm terribly hungry around 3 pm, but at least there's a good fan, so at least the water doesn't flow off me as much. Returning to the house, we take photos of the compositions, get some rice with onion sauce, and head to the celebration. In Dakar afternoon traffic, we cover a distance of just under 600 meters in 1.5 hours. A crazy cavalcade of pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages and mopeds, everyone is pushing, every car is pulled over, yet they don't scream, they sit calmly and know that sooner or later they will get to where they are going anyway. Our children's program has long since gone down, I think. But this is Africa, the celebration announced for 2 o'clock hasn't even started by the time we get there. The hall is full of ladies and gentlemen dressed in beautiful Guinean costumes, dark purple-brown polka-dotted dresses everywhere. The hall is huge, but rather dilapidated, air nuku.
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