Yep. You read that correctly. We are no closer to Guinea than we were yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that... This post is coming to you from, you guessed it, good 'ol Dakar, Senegal. A word about making plans here: People in West Africa often say "Inshallahaw" after statements or in response to other people's statements. For example, I've been telling people "We're going to Guinea on Thursday." People's response? "Inshallahaw," which is Arabic for "If God wills it to be." I keep forgetting to add that to everything I say. After this morning (or rather, after this week in Senegal) I bet I won't forget. God has not yet willed our trip to Guinea. Nor has Air Senegal. Poor, poor Mr. Thiam.
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What happened? you ask. Well, Matt and I woke up at 5:30 this morning. By 6:00 we were in Mr. Thiam's car on our way to the airport. This was our third trip to the Leopold Senghor International Airport in 5 days. We couldn't contain our excitement. We were finally on our way to Guinea! And this time it was the real deal. We weren't merely standby passengers. We held in our hands *real* tickets, paid for by us and blessed by Mr. Thiam's friend's travel agency. There was NO possible way that things could wrong this time around. We said goodbye to a very happy Mr. Thiam with American hugs (the custom here is a handshake) and promised to see each other in Conakry in a week or so when he passes through Guinea on his way to Mecca. It was a bit sad to say goodbye to a man who we had become quite close to but we all knew it was time for us to leave. Mr. Thiam was glowing. He was about to get his life back.
.
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At the airport I checked us in while Matt watched our luggage. That's when things started to fall apart. I learned that the flight was delayed a bit and would depart this afternoon "Inshallahow." Then it was "maybe around 6:00pm." Then, "maybe tomorrow." The plane, it turns out, is broken and in Niger. We sheepishly called poor Mr. Thiam, waited in line to pick up our 30,000cfa (roughly $60) from Air Senegal for food, lodging, etc. during the delay, said goodbye to some of our new aiport friends (among them Mouctar and his dog Mia who were at the airport Monday and like us were turned away), and took a taxi back to Mr. Thiam's place. And here we are.
.
.
A few days ago when we tried to fly to Guinea and were turned away we got back in Mr. Thiam's car and I told him about the song "The Cat Came Back" (the cat came back the very next day...). "Wouldn't it be funny if, like the cat, we kept coming back?," we laughed. "What if we never got to leave Dakar and had to live with you forever?"I giggled to Mr. Thiam. This inspired deep belly laughs from all of us.
.
.
Well, no one's laughing now. Our baggage is back in "our" room in Mr. Thiam's complex and in a few hours we'll take our regular places at his table for lunch. We might even use his daughter's computer again.
.
.
Meow.
.
.
What happened? you ask. Well, Matt and I woke up at 5:30 this morning. By 6:00 we were in Mr. Thiam's car on our way to the airport. This was our third trip to the Leopold Senghor International Airport in 5 days. We couldn't contain our excitement. We were finally on our way to Guinea! And this time it was the real deal. We weren't merely standby passengers. We held in our hands *real* tickets, paid for by us and blessed by Mr. Thiam's friend's travel agency. There was NO possible way that things could wrong this time around. We said goodbye to a very happy Mr. Thiam with American hugs (the custom here is a handshake) and promised to see each other in Conakry in a week or so when he passes through Guinea on his way to Mecca. It was a bit sad to say goodbye to a man who we had become quite close to but we all knew it was time for us to leave. Mr. Thiam was glowing. He was about to get his life back.
.
.
At the airport I checked us in while Matt watched our luggage. That's when things started to fall apart. I learned that the flight was delayed a bit and would depart this afternoon "Inshallahow." Then it was "maybe around 6:00pm." Then, "maybe tomorrow." The plane, it turns out, is broken and in Niger. We sheepishly called poor Mr. Thiam, waited in line to pick up our 30,000cfa (roughly $60) from Air Senegal for food, lodging, etc. during the delay, said goodbye to some of our new aiport friends (among them Mouctar and his dog Mia who were at the airport Monday and like us were turned away), and took a taxi back to Mr. Thiam's place. And here we are.
.
.
A few days ago when we tried to fly to Guinea and were turned away we got back in Mr. Thiam's car and I told him about the song "The Cat Came Back" (the cat came back the very next day...). "Wouldn't it be funny if, like the cat, we kept coming back?," we laughed. "What if we never got to leave Dakar and had to live with you forever?"I giggled to Mr. Thiam. This inspired deep belly laughs from all of us.
.
.
Well, no one's laughing now. Our baggage is back in "our" room in Mr. Thiam's complex and in a few hours we'll take our regular places at his table for lunch. We might even use his daughter's computer again.
.
.
Meow.
1 comment:
Good luck on your travails. As a point of contrast, we are now covered in more than 6 inches of snow. Jen had school canceled for the whole week, and we'll hit the cross-country ski trails tomorrow.
Happy Thanksgiving. Looking forward to hearing the continuation of your adventures ... mundane or not.
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