Call me Colin Gaye, the toubab of Mermoz

After spending a weekend in Saint Louis, and realizing how happy I felt upon returning to Dakar, I became aware of something: I am in love with this city, with its smells, sounds, and sights. It’s a never-ceasing mix of contrasting ingredients that make the city what it is. I particularly like Mermoz, the residential neighborhood where I’m staying. Mermoz is in the middle of the Dakar peninsula, halfway between the southern Plateau and the northern Pointe des Almadies.

The fruit stall just around the corner from my house. I'm going to miss Senegalese mangoes 

When I walk out of my house in the morning, the smell of sand and spices hits me immediately. If my traveling companion Fatou is with me, her invariably bright and lively outfit will add a dash of color to the picture, as will her smiling personality. Arriving at the courtyard at the end of the alleyway adds the smell and sound of the sheep who live there.

Fatou poses in the courtyard, while behind her some men give the sheep a sponge bath

The large Ecobank in Mermoz: 

the only way to tell taxis where I live

As I step out onto the main street, and the sand gives way to paved roads and sidewalks, the sound of taxis honking at me as they go by begins to fill the air. Initially, I would get mildly upset with the constant soliciting, as I viewed it; now, I either ignore it or laugh at the constant endeavors of Dakarois to make a little extra money through or despite a system that places constraints on their ability to do so. (A taxi spends half of what it can hope to make on a good day on gas; many of the taxi drivers work for another driver who owns the vehicle: the owner and the other driver will work in shifts, and the other driver will pay the owner a sizable portion of his earnings from that day.)

Scenes from Mermoz:
This is the sight that greets me every morning, when I open the door and step out into the alleyway. 

Scenes from Mermoz:
Fatou stops to check the phone I gave her (an old flip phone that doesn't work in Senegal, but has two games)
next to the horse drawn cart that is carrying stones to a house where construction is currently going on.
It's not "under construction" since in Dakar people start living in a house as soon as the ground floor is built

Scenes from Mermoz:
It's very common to see stones from unfinished construction sites in Dakar, and Mermoz is no exception.
People start a project they will complete when they again have money, which can be ten years later, or never

Scenes from Mermoz:
The porch of my home. Children play outside, wearing the usual
assortment of bright t-shirts. At night, Alioune's sheep sleep here 

I think of Mermoz as an ensemble of residential islands, where a maze of small alleyways and sand roads connect houses and apartment buildings; larger, paved roads cut through periodically, but the main roads run north-south, giving the space between them a sense of isolated continuity, of being cut off from the rest of Dakar. The inner sidewalks tend to be wide swaths of sand, sometimes paved, where people gather to talk, where small shops ply their trade, in a relaxed way: when I went to buy another 10-liter bottle of water, the guy behind the counter seemed almost surprised by the business, and that his conversation with two friends had been interrupted.

On the other side of the main road, residential Mermoz gives way to imposing houses and embassies 

The bright flowers adorning the walls of the nice houses on the other side of the main thoroughfare are another indication of the gap between the two sides of the road. 
The abundance of flowers also undercuts the physical austerity of this part of Mermoz, which lack human warmth

Alioune spends every evening playing petanque, on a field that
has excellent lighting. All of the men play petanque in Mermoz
and the Mermoz petanque club has hundreds of members 

The inner streets of Mermoz, where the Senegalese live, are sand paths, sometimes hardened dirt, connected by narrow alleyways and courtyards. In the hours after school lets out, groups of kids and teenagers roam the alleyways, playing and talking animatedly. I love coming home to the relaxed energy that comes from their presence. Among older teenagers, fewer women are found in the streets, as they tend to sit in a local café or in someone’s apartment and talk.

After school and on weekends, soccer dominates 

At night, the inner streets are just as animated, if not more so. Mermoz is a very safe neighborhood, and I’ve never once felt afraid wandering about on my own or with Fatou after the sun goes down. Local stalls and small shops remain open until late: in a city where people never have dinner before 9pm, sometimes as late as 10pm, evening sociability seems to be an important part of life.

Beaches abound in Dakar. In Mermoz, beaches are more secluded, and offer gorgeous views. Yet even here you
can't escape a sense of poverty, as a small family has established residency under the trees next to the beach. 

This is the path that leads from the street
to the courtyard and my house.
To me, this is the entryway into
residential Mermoz, its sounds, its life

Last week, I became part of the Mermoz community. To celebrate my birthday, I decided to organize a small party, at Fatou’s request. The real purpose for me was to learn how the Senegalese celebrate birthdays, and give Fatou a chance to invite all of her friends for a party. It turns out the Senegalese celebrate birthdays the same way I did growing up in France and the US. I walked to a local (French) bakery to pick out a cake with Fatou, who got very excited. It was touching to see her, on the way back, run down all of her friends in the neighborhood to show off the box with the cake inside (though you couldn’t see the cake), and remind them of the party to come. We picked up two friends of Fatou’s, who upon learning we’d be heading to the mall to buy some food nervously asked me if they could come with me.

Fatou enjoying her time 

on the escalator intently

They relaxed a lot when I told them with a smile that they could. We walked to the mall, making small talk; one of them, Aissatou, was very proud she could say a few words in English, since her dad lives in the US. Upon arriving at the mall, I told the girls they could ride the escalator for a bit. I’ve learned from going there with Fatou that the escalator is a big source of excitement for them. Aissatou told me with evident pride she’d taken the escalator twice before, then proceeded to step on very nervously, before smiling grandly the entire way down (which lasted for 7 seconds). It still amazes me that things I take for granted can be such magical experiences for an 11-year-old here. 

Later that evening, kids from the neigbhorhood came over for the party, which featured cake, candy, and chips -- basically, just like any kids' party I'd ever been to. I relaxed and talked to some of the parents and older siblings waiting outside for the kids to finish partying, and relaxing with a glass of juice of their own. 

The next day, people started calling me Colin Gaye, since I'm staying with the Gaye family. Everyone started saying hi when they saw me, kids would shake my hand hello, and they'd introduce me to their friends as the "toubab" from the Gaye family. A toubab is the Senegalese term for a white person who tries to understand Senegalese culture and customs. Since that party, I've felt a shift in how others look at me as I walk through the alleyways of Mermoz, which confirms just how strong their sense of community is. I'm now Colin Gaye, the toubab. 

A typical scene from Mermoz: small alleyways of stone connect larger openings of sand