Driving in Dakar, part 1 (of 2): a city where driving becomes a daily adventure

Driving around Dakar, or rather, being driven around in taxis, is a unique experience. In a city where public transportation is minimal, and where the heat makes walking in a suit for more than a mile an unappealing option, I renew with the experience once or twice per day. What follows are two posts, one with general observations about the Dakarois style of driving, and a second one with more about how taxis work, in a city with no addresses and where taxis don't have meters. 

Getting around in a vehicle in Dakar is quite an experience. The closest thing to it, among countries I’ve visited, is driving in Algeria. Both countries seem to share the same fundamental rules of driving: never stop, and try to slow down as little as possible; slow down if you must, but always keep moving. The Senegalese notion of what the proper distance between vehicles is, can be defined thus: are the vehicles touching? Perhaps to reflect this willingness to get much closer to other vehicles than would be accepted in France or the US, I've noticed many SUVs have impressive front shock absorbers added on, another example of the Senegalese preference for finding ways of mitigating the impact of something rather than seek to change it. They accept and adapt more than they try to transform their environment, I think, which gives the city a unique energy, a contrast between a sleepy authority and active ingenuity at the edges of the system.

This taxi slowed down but continued inching forward until it
less than a foot away from the minibus -- without the people
standing in the back seeming to take notice, much less offense

Roundabouts provide a great example of their driving style. Because Senegal is a former French colony, its road system features many roundabouts, a staple of the French transportation network (in cities as well as the French countryside, for that matter). In fact, the signs used for Senegalese roads are identical to French signs, something it took me a few days to realize precisely because they were so familiar I didn’t even pay attention to them. When arriving at a roundabout, you’re supposed to yield to traffic. In Senegal, cars will slow down, maybe let one or two cars go by, but inching forward the entire time, until they’re half in the roundabout anyway. I'm amazed there aren't more accidents. 

Nontraditional (or very traditional) vehicles, such as 
horse-drawn carts, can be seen on roads...

... and exhibit a similar lack of  regard for "lanes" as cars 

The Senegalese have a loose concept of “lanes,” and can stay in lines, occupy the middle position across two lanes, or swerve into incoming traffic, if they think they have time, in order to get around another vehicle, rather than slow down. Slower vehicles can include buses, but also horse-drawn carts. Even when cars are driving in a lane, they rarely stay in it. I think it's due to a combination of poor driving skills and a lack of care for white lines on the ground. Yet the Senegalese, who generally take their time in life and rarely seem in a hurry, don’t try to pass each other that frequently. They will swerve around slower vehicles pulling into the road, or mini buses making a stop, but almost never attempt to pass a driving vehicle. I used to get a little nervous to be honest, but am learning to see the road the way the Senegalese do: not according to some abstract rules, but based on whatever amount of space is available on the road in front of you and around you. 

A modern bus waits behind a mini-bus in traffic while cars try to
weave around them, defining lanes based on space, not painted lines

Buses to me are fare more baffling than taxis.
There are three types of buses in Dakar: recently-introduced, modern buses, white buses, and colorful mini-buses. Modern buses have numbered routes, and stop at clearly designated bus stops. After 10 days in Dakar, I still cannot figure out how people know the routes the latter two follow. People get on the minibus through the back, which has one (often two) bus employees standing there (even when the vehicle is moving). You climb on at random spots (if the vehicle is stopped at a red light you can hop on, or if you’re on the sidewalk you can flag it down), and then once you’re seated the person in the back comes through collecting the fare of 100 cfa Francs. People also seem to get off the bus at random spots as well. If the bus stops in the street, taxis and other cars will pull into the other lane (either half or completely), which can cause cars in the left lane to shift as well, sometimes over onto the other side of the road. I can't figure out how it all works, but it's fascinating to observe the comfort with which the Senegalese navigate the informal system they've created. 

The tall sidewalk, seen with 11-year-
old Fatou for a sense of perspective

Yet traffic also provides an opportunity
for street merchants to offer their wares

Along the main roads that run north-south, connecting the different neighborhoods along the Dakar peninsula, sidewalks rise about 45cm (or a foot and a half) in height. I asked Alioune why they were so high along these roads, and yet nonexistent elsewhere. He explained to me that the government came up wit this system to prevent cars from driving onto sidewalks to have more room to drive, or to deal with heavy traffic during rush hour (which in Dakar is apparently 7-830am, 1230-2pm, and 4-6pm).
I've learned after a few stumbles and tumbles to not text and walk in areas with high sidewalks, unless you want to provide entertainment to nearby Dakarois at your own expense.

The Senegalese have a very nonchalant way of crossing the street,
especially in the city where cars have to move more slowly. Cars
frequently honk as they swerve by, trying to avoid slowing down
almost as much as they're trying to avoid hitting someone

Traffic is made all the more challenging by the Senegalese custom of crossing roads at random points; it’s not rare to see someone stand in the middle of the road, patiently waiting for a small opening between cars to continue crossing the road. This to me represents their nonchalant rapport to authority, which is about accommodation more than actual respect of rules. I love this relaxed way of weaving your way through life, which I've come to embrace wholly. Cars don't slow down for you (I was shocked when a car did slow down to let me cross yesterday: the driver was white, which made more sense), nor do you expect them to, you just walk around them, finding spaces to cross lanes. You make your own way calmly, bending to certain forces like oncoming traffic, sidestepping obstacles, but always moving forward. Nothing is rigid, meaning there's rarely tension about anything: I'm really enjoying getting around Dakar.