We opened our bedroom door on the first morning, to be greeted by blinding sunshine that jumped into our eyes from the white tile flooring of our rooftop. Sunglasses were in order – it was going to be a good day! We set off to explore. Getting into the centre of town meant a taxi or a bus, of course for us it had to be public transport!
When we reached the tarmacked main road after navigating the sandy backstreets we got our first glimpse of what public transport is like in Dakar. We were squeezed into an almost entirely worn out white mini van, packed with people, by the eager bus boys. They act as conductors, hanging out of the open back doors looking to gather as many customers as possible, collecting fares, and dictating where and when the bus stops by banging the side of the van. This becomes part of the collective sound of a bus journey, along with the groaning of the engine as it struggles to haul its excessive load and religious chanting from the radio.
The interior of the buses are rusty and battered, often with holes in the floors and the seats missing most of their stuffing. The windscreens leave a strip of 10 inches to see out of, the rest is plastered with religious iconography and tinsel. To ensure the maximum capacity there are fold down seats between the rows of benches, it’s cosy to say the least. The close proximity means that everybody is helpful to one another and people move from seat to seat with the hustle and bustle of new passengers.
French is not yet our forte and our first journey saw us trying to pay with Ethiopian money to the hilarity of the entire bus. After lots of laughing we located our Senegalese money (known as ‘ceefa’ – £10 ~ 8,000 CFA) the women of the bus made sure the bus boys didn’t rip us off and we were handed the correct change. Compared to the £4.90 it would have cost us in England this journey was a mere 38p!
As we sat squashed in with the Senegalese people we caught our first glimpse of life in central Dakar. The streets team with life; market stalls, horse and carts, and people with a million different purposes. The bus was the perfect vantage point to watch life roll on and to roll along with it. Since then bus has been the only way to travel and our enthusiasm for this mode of transport has seen us often take the wrong bus (pretty much on purpose) and miss every single stop. On one of our journeys people watching and chatting led us accidentally to the end of the line. After explaining our love of the buses to the bus boys, they let us ride back for free and kindly kicked us off at the right stop. Who needs a tour guide!? Â
