Guinea Part 3 - 21 Mar 08 to 28 Mar 08

I made my way from Dakar back to Conakry for one final week of study there. It was a great final opportunity to be involved in Guinea's rich musical tradition and complete my program of study that I started back in December.

The day after I arrived Sekou took me with him to play for a wedding on the outskirts of Conakry. Here we are playing for dancers.

More playing for dancers at the wedding. The tray on the ground is where they put tips after they have danced their solo.

We videotaped all of my lessons on the last day. Here is the set.

These kids were hanging out while we were videoing, going through the trash looking for anything useful.

The crew.

My lessons in the afternoon were generally held at the outdoor spot pictured above. However, in the morning we usually played at the Gbessia Youth Center, home to a couple of ballets, including Ballet Saamato, and numerous local groups practicing everything from acrobatics shows to breakdancing. Below are a few shots of the Gbessia Youth Center and the murals adorning its walls.

Sekou and friend hanging out.

Some drummers getting ready for ballet practice at the youth center.

Here is a picture of an old-school clothes iron that uses charcoal instead of being plugged in.

Around the Gbessia Youth Center.

Fara's Mom.

That's it for this trip to Guinea. Please check out my earlier posts for more on my time in the country. After my last week there was over, I continued on to Abidjan, Ivory Coast.

Dakar - 17 Mar 08 to 20 Mar 08

I arrived in Dakar, Senegal at about 5:30 in the morning on the 17th of March. I waited for the sun to rise then set about the task of arranging an onward flight to Conakry, Guinea and another one from Conakry to Abidjan. After that, I went and looked up my friend Cheik Wagne, who I'd met on my last evening in Dakar before leaving for the States. He and his family welcomed me into their home and I spent the next 3 days hanging out with him in Dakar.

I only got a small taste of what Senegal is about, but this included a visit to the isle of Goree, which proved an invaluable learning experience regarding the history of slavery. It marked the beginning of several opportunities to see the remains of this gruesome trade and learn more about both its history and modern effects which are still with us today; more installments on this theme are to follow in my future blog posts on Ghana and Benin.

The first afternoon Cheik and I went walking around downtown. This tree was painted in the design of the Senegalese flag.

I asked to take this woman's picture along with her wares to show the juices she is selling in the little bags. These juices are found virtually everywhere all over West Africa. The red kind is made from a flower called Bissap. The brown ones are really strong ginger juice that I drank everytime I felt my immune system getting worn down; because of them I never got a cold. I forget what the bright red ones are.

Water in West Africa is also sold in little bags. You simply bite off the corner of the bag, suck out the contents and then throw the bag away (usually right on the ground wherever you are as most places don't have trash collection).

These cats scored big time.

I thought this building looked cool. It is a big bank, I think.

My friend Stacey from the United States has many close friends in Senegal. On my last night in Colorado she loaded me up with presents and I arrived with my bag stuffed full of earrings, dresses, knick-knacks and such. I spent most of the next day getting in touch with her friends there, hanging out and handing over the stuff. Below is a picture of the Blaise Senghor Cultural Center in Dakar, the one place I went that day.

On my last day in Dakar Cheik took me to see the Isle of Goree, a small island about a km off the coast of Dakar. Here we are walking down toward the harbor. The huge billboard shows the president of Senegal. I didn't understand Cheik's translation exactly, but it reads something like "count on the Old Man".

The ferry ride out to Goree. As it is a World Heritage site, the island is often visited and the ferry is brand new and really nice.

Arrival on Goree. The whole island is like a living museum, with all period buildings. In addition to studying history, there are many vendors selling paintings and crafts and the sounds of traditional drumming can be heard as people come here to study drumming and dance.

Vendors with their wares for sale.

A view over the island.

The old cannons on top of the fort. When the French left, they cut notches in the end of the cannon barrels so that they could no longer be fired.

The most important site on Goree. This place is the old "House of Slaves", where uncounted millions of souls were held captive for many months before being purchased and sent across the Atlantic to start new lives of toil in the fields of the United States, the Carribean and South America. Slaves from all over West Africa were transported here and sold into captivity. Goree is the northernmost of a series of former major slave-ports stretching down the coast of West Africa to Nigeria and beyond, down into Central Africa as far as Angola.

This tiny room was crammed far beyond capacity with people waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. They were not allowed to leave, even to bathe or go to the bathroom. Thus they were made to stay in their own filth. The slaves were often kept in these conditions for many months.

This tiny room underneath the stairwell is where the "bad" (i.e. rebellious) slaves were put as punishment. The tourguides said that when Nelson Mandela came to visit Goree, he went inside this cell and stayed for several minutes.

The "Door of No Return".

Looking out across the Atlantic through the Door of No Return.

Upstairs in the Maison des Esclaves is a museum with informational displays on the economic history of slavery, characterizations of the lives of slaves in the New World, and many artifacts of the time. Below are shackles used to restrain slaves and a rifle. Manufactured goods such as this rifle were used to purchase slaves and formed one part of the "Triangular Trade". This trade route saw goods coming from Europe to West Africa to purchase slaves, then the same boats would load the slaves and take them to the New World. After unloading their human cargos, the boats would then load the agricultural fruits of the slaves' labors from the New World and return with these riches back to Europe, and the Triangular Trade would continue.

Those of us living in Europe and America can reflect on the incredible wealth available to us in our societies and how much of it came from the ill-gotten gains of slavery.

A view from the entryway of the Maison des Esclaves.

A statue outside the Maison des Esclaves celebrating emancipation from slavery.

A view of the Dakar skyline in the distance across the water.

My friend Cheik Wagne checking out the work of a local sculptor.

The soccer field on Goree. Although it is a historical site, people live on the island and of course soccer is very popular. A game was in session when we passed.

Sunset over the island as we were leaving back to the mainland.

The next day I got up early, before dawn, to get a taxi to the airport. Many people were already out and about preparing for a huge celebration: it was the birthday of the Prophet Muhammed. I would have liked to have stayed to see how people in Senegal celebrate the occaison, but it was not to be. My next stop was Conakry, with a mission to finish my study of doundoun music that had started way back in December. Look for a short posting on my last stop in Guinea coming sometime in the near future.

Guinea-Bissau to Casamance to Gambia to Dakar to NYC to Seattle to Bellingham to Guemes to Mexico to Colorado to Dakar - 28 Feb 08 to 17 March 08

The two weeks represented in this post saw me crisscrossing West Africa and North America in frantic lines, trying to see people in diverse locals with very little time. The first phase was the most critical: I had to get home in time to see my Grandma before she died. I got up early, before the break of dawn and went to the station in Bissau. I got in another car to Ziguinchor, Senegal, a place I had thought I wasn't going to see again for awhile. Luckily, there were no more problems with the ferry crossing and I arrived in good time, only to wait about 3 hours for a car to Dakar to fill. It was a Friday, the holy day for Muslims, and I was told most transport had gone to the holy city of Touba, so patience was the order of the day.

In order to get from southern Senegal to the north, one must pass through a tiny country known as the Gambia. The Gambia takes its name from the river that runs through its center. In the colonial days, the French controlled Senegal but the English had influence and interest in the region of the Gambia river, so they made a deal: the English sailed a boat up the river and periodically shot cannonballs to either shore. Where the cannonballs landed became the borders of a new English colony in the shape of the river at its center. We passed briefly through the Gambia, just long enough to stop and pay a transit tax, cross the Gambia river and then emerge from the other side in Senegal once more.

The border post in the Gambia.

Crossing the Gambia river.

I arrived in Dakar late that night, well after midnight, tired to the bone, stressed, alone and not knowing anyone or anything since I hadn't taken any information with me on Senegal, it not being in my original plans to visit the country on this trip.

The next morning I went to the airport and arranged a flight to NYC. The flights left everyday at two in the morning and the one that night was full, so I had to wait one extra stress-filled day and the next whole day until past midnight, the whole time wondering if I would make it to see my Grandma in time. I met a kid from the area who let me sleep at his house for a few bucks and took me to the beach one day. The next day I met a really great guy named Cheik who I was able to stay with on my return to Dakar.

The beach in Dakar.

I made it home on Sunday, the 2rd of March. I got to see my Grandma for about 24 hours before she passed on the next day. It was almost as if she had been waiting for me. I didn't get to speak with her, as she was already in a deep sleep, but I know she knew I was there.

After Grandma passed, we went out together as a family to a restaurant. Although we were sad about Grandma's passing, she had such a wonderful and full life that we thought it was more appropriate to celebrate so we went out and ate crab, something we used to catch and eat fresh all the time on Guemes Island where Grandma and Grandpa lived for 30 years when they retired.

Two days later we had a remembrance service for Grandma. All the people who knew her throughout her life came together and shared thoughts, memories and prayers for her.

Grandma Mary was Scottish Canadian, born in Nova Scotia and from the MacGillivray clan. Although she married an American and lived in the US most of her life, she never changed her citizenship and never forgot where she came from. It was her wish that her origins be observed at her passing, so we displayed the Canadian flag along with photos of her early years. We also displayed a book of family history that a relative in Canada researched, that included the crest and plaid of the MacGillivray clan.

My dad (center) with friends at the service.

My aunt and cousin at the service.

My mom (left) and Ameryl, an end-of-life specialist who stayed up with Grandma during the night while the family got sleep and helped us all with both the practical and spiritual aspects of losing a loved one.

After the service was over I headed up to Bellingham, the town I grew up in, for a couple of days at home. Here is my sister Kendal.

Here is my sister Allysun.

A family dinner in our favorite restaurant, the North Fork, with my dad, sisters and my stepmom Sonja.

Rainier Beer comes from where??!!

Around Bellingham. Looking across the bay with the Coastal Range of Canada visible in the distance.

Me and my mom Paddy at a friend's house.

Around downtown Bellingham.

Bellingham Bay in the afternoon.

On my last day in the Pacific Northwest, I went up to Guemes Island with the family to spend some time. Here is the house that my Grandma and Grandpa lived in for 30 years and where I spent a great deal of time as a child. It is now owned by my aunt, and various members of our family own pieces of Granma and Granpa's land where they had fields and a small farm. Guemes Island is a small island in the San Juan Archipelago of Western Washington.

The barn where Granpa used to go to putter around.

My sister swinging on a tree-swing.

A view of the ferry-dock on Guemes looking across to Anacortes.

The beach on Guemes Island.

A view across Puget Sound with the Cascade Mountains in the distance.

After a week in the Pacific Northwest, I headed down to Mexico for two days to see my son Ramses. He loves playing with the drumsticks.

Ramses' mom Andrea out in front of her new restaurant, "La Red de Ramses". Her father, Jesus, had a restaurant for over 40 years that was called "La Red" (the Fisherman's Net) and she is continuing the tradition.

Ramses playing at La Red.

After Mexico, I also made it home to Boulder for 2 more days to visit, pay my taxes and take care of other logistics before heading back to Senegal on March 17th to finish my trip. All of this travel, in addition to being exhausting, was also very expensive and out of the range of my already tight budget for my trip. My father, uncles and aunt decided to pitch in and pay for these expenses out of money from my Grandma and I would like to thank them for making it possible to come home and see everyone. It remains a final gift from my Grandmother.