Bring Out the Big Guns
January 7, 2006
We are now back home. Our travels have engrained the idea that Sadiola is indeed home. We can unpack our suitcases, play our own CD’s, and play with our own toys. If that’s not home, I don’t know what is.
Ile De Goree was amazing. The island is tiny; less then a half mile from one end to the other and maybe a quarter mile across. On Monday, since the museum was closed, we walked to the castle. This is a fortification that was built way back, but was used up through World War II. It is the end of the island where they filmed “The Guns of Navarone.” There were artisans all along the way selling original pieces. This was refreshing to see as most of the art we have looked at has been the same pieces sold throughout the country. The art from the island is truly unique. We walked down this concrete tunnel and ended up underneath the turret for the big guns used for WWII. There we met a fellow named Samba.
Samba lives in the space under the guns. He led us up through the turret into the park. We walked along the perimeter, surrounded by various pieces of art along the way. According to him, there are about twenty-five artists that live in the park. They occupy bunkers, turrets, catacombs, the infirmary, anyplace there is room for themselves and their art. We took it all in, purchased a few pieces here and there, and blazed a trail to check out the rest of the village.
What a beautiful place. It’s only an hour away from Dakar; from the castle there are striking views of the skyline, but since there are no cars, it is peaceful and clean. After the last ferry leaves, the locals strike up the drums and the village really comes to life.
It’s weird that the allure of the place (at least according to official literature) is slavery. As a person disembarks from the ferry and walks up the beach one of the first things they see is one of those cheesy photo boards that have a picture but no heads.
The House of Slaves Museum, however is quite interesting. All of the signs and tours are in French so it was difficult to interpret, but the dark cells, tiny windows, and door to the sea spoke volumes for themselves. There were displays of the manacles used, what a slave ship looked like, as well as the original signs that hung above each door. I didn’t feel comfortable taking pictures; it almost seemed like sacrilege to do so. It was extremely moving.
We left the museum and went straight to the ferry dock. We arrived in Dakar quite early for our flight. This gave us ample time to run some errands and eat lunch. After haggling with the cab driver we made it to the airport with time to spare. The ticket agent made me check the Djembe as baggage. I was convinced it would be broken by the time we arrived in Bamako, but it made it through just fine.
We got to go shopping in Bamako. We also got to hook up with the teachers there again. Our hosts were Bob and Rachel. They have a son who is slightly older then Zachary so it worked out well. We took care of business until Friday when we had to catch the small plane to Sadiola. Upon arrival they opened the cargo hold and the drum rolled off the top of the stack, smashing the bottom as it hit the ground. Fortunately I didn’t discover it until we arrived home as it was very depressing. Mohammed was there to pick us up. He was upbeat and excited as always.
It’s good to be home. There are warm smiles and cool breezes. We opened Christmas presents and slept in our own beds. Today we walked around to see how things had changed while we were gone (they didn’t). We start work again Monday, a fact we are both trying to ignore. For now the weather is fine, there are mangoes on the tree and we are still on vacation.
MJR
We are now back home. Our travels have engrained the idea that Sadiola is indeed home. We can unpack our suitcases, play our own CD’s, and play with our own toys. If that’s not home, I don’t know what is.
Ile De Goree was amazing. The island is tiny; less then a half mile from one end to the other and maybe a quarter mile across. On Monday, since the museum was closed, we walked to the castle. This is a fortification that was built way back, but was used up through World War II. It is the end of the island where they filmed “The Guns of Navarone.” There were artisans all along the way selling original pieces. This was refreshing to see as most of the art we have looked at has been the same pieces sold throughout the country. The art from the island is truly unique. We walked down this concrete tunnel and ended up underneath the turret for the big guns used for WWII. There we met a fellow named Samba.
Samba lives in the space under the guns. He led us up through the turret into the park. We walked along the perimeter, surrounded by various pieces of art along the way. According to him, there are about twenty-five artists that live in the park. They occupy bunkers, turrets, catacombs, the infirmary, anyplace there is room for themselves and their art. We took it all in, purchased a few pieces here and there, and blazed a trail to check out the rest of the village.
What a beautiful place. It’s only an hour away from Dakar; from the castle there are striking views of the skyline, but since there are no cars, it is peaceful and clean. After the last ferry leaves, the locals strike up the drums and the village really comes to life.
It’s weird that the allure of the place (at least according to official literature) is slavery. As a person disembarks from the ferry and walks up the beach one of the first things they see is one of those cheesy photo boards that have a picture but no heads.
The House of Slaves Museum, however is quite interesting. All of the signs and tours are in French so it was difficult to interpret, but the dark cells, tiny windows, and door to the sea spoke volumes for themselves. There were displays of the manacles used, what a slave ship looked like, as well as the original signs that hung above each door. I didn’t feel comfortable taking pictures; it almost seemed like sacrilege to do so. It was extremely moving.We left the museum and went straight to the ferry dock. We arrived in Dakar quite early for our flight. This gave us ample time to run some errands and eat lunch. After haggling with the cab driver we made it to the airport with time to spare. The ticket agent made me check the Djembe as baggage. I was convinced it would be broken by the time we arrived in Bamako, but it made it through just fine.
We got to go shopping in Bamako. We also got to hook up with the teachers there again. Our hosts were Bob and Rachel. They have a son who is slightly older then Zachary so it worked out well. We took care of business until Friday when we had to catch the small plane to Sadiola. Upon arrival they opened the cargo hold and the drum rolled off the top of the stack, smashing the bottom as it hit the ground. Fortunately I didn’t discover it until we arrived home as it was very depressing. Mohammed was there to pick us up. He was upbeat and excited as always.
It’s good to be home. There are warm smiles and cool breezes. We opened Christmas presents and slept in our own beds. Today we walked around to see how things had changed while we were gone (they didn’t). We start work again Monday, a fact we are both trying to ignore. For now the weather is fine, there are mangoes on the tree and we are still on vacation.
MJR
posted by Bronx to Timbuktu at 3:00 PM
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