Momo and I were just standing here on the patio of Campement Kunja sharing a freshly fallen mango from Abdoulaye’s permaculture forest of food, gazing upon the silhouette of a mother monkey and her little baby scampering in the trees rose color lit by the setting sun, as I begun contemplating the events leading up to this moment of tranquility.
Upon uprooting from London back to America I wrote a post about possessions. I suppose the nomadic life necessitates the parting with material objects and yet, as many of you commented, my list of late was even lacking. Those of you who have spent extensive time in a place far removed from your own especially know how certain possessions are absolutely obligatory. To our dismay, my checked in just at the limit of fifty pounds of inseparable objects was misplaced by the fine folks at Iberia Airlines in Madrid.
Although the cause of the disappearance of my and at least 100 fellow passengers luggage remains unknown, thankfully the diligent staff of Dakar airport finally recovered everyone’s bags, only we’d already arrived at the other end of our ten hour drive, including a grueling ferry and two border crossings.
Of course there were some unexpected and much appreciated replacements along the way, and nothing in the world can replace being reunited with my husband, our family here, including our now somewhat grown up puppy (who was just last night survived a scorpion bite protecting us from its, thankfully, non-fatal yet excruciatingly painful, sting!). Still, wearing the same travel clothes for five days gets old, particularly in this heat.
Mercifully, as we spent two nights on the way in Mbour, at the actual palace of a Marabout (spiritual leader) who is like an uncle to Momo. Of course, we were treated like we were royalty, even with the fatigue of our hosts’ Ramadan fasting. On our first morning’s stroll on the beach, we passed a man selling bathing suits; naturally he had one perfectly in my size, and then we encountered a woman selling small baskets, and wouldn’t you know it, she had a dressdaring and dress for me too. We settled into a beach bar for some pressed juices and I immediately changed into my new ensemble:
The bikini served me well as undergarments until we could get home here and wash my travel clothes properly, plus I’d thankfully left many clothes here in Momo’s room. Certainly sufficient to feel like a princess again for the end of Ramadan celebration today (yes, a day later than that observed in many other parts of the world).