WAIST in Dakar, Senegal {February 15 – 20, 2007}

Americans from all over West Africa gather once a year in Dakar, Senegal to take part in the West African International Softball Tournament, better known as WAIST. The tournament has two divisions, one competitive – for teams who actually practice – and the other “social” – for teams who, well, don’t practice. Peace Corps Mauritania, better known as the Pirates {Arrrrrgh!}, takes part in the social league and is, in fact, the reigning champion. With the exception of a very few individuals, all RIM volunteers – whether they choose to play or cheer – make their way to Dakar for a weekend full of looting, pillaging, drinking and other unmentionable whatnots...and, oh yes, for some good old fashioned softball quoi. For some volunteers, this is the social event of the year, and they live each precious day like it is their last.

What follows are some of the highlights from WAIST 2007.

Safety and Security in Nouakchott: Before we, the volunteers, depart for Senegal, we gather together in Nouakchott for a day of safety and security talks. {Basically: Senegal is a dangerous place! You can die! So, be careful!} Most of the day, however, is eaten up by a Peace Corps administrator – she’s here all the way from Washington D.C., impressive! – currently in the country to help organize a new sector focusing on girls’ education and empowerment. I am not impressed with her presentation. Honestly, I’ll be astonished if the sector succeeds. The administrator, while having good ideas and intentions, seems to lack a basic understanding of the real-life situations that most Mauritanian girls must face. I feel that this disconnect between the top and bottom will be the downfall of the program, just as it has been the downfall of many others before.

Bus Ride to Dakar: The following morning we, the volunteers, load onto two buses at precisely 5:15 {an awfully premature hour!} hoping to get into Dakar some nine hours afterwards. Unknowingly, we rise early in vain. The trip takes us not nine but 18 hours. Why? Let me recount the reasons. On the way down to Senegal, just kilometers away from the border, in a heroic effort to avoid a wheelbarrow on the edge of the road, the bus driver of the larger of the two buses swerves and drives directly head-on into a sand dune. Not only are we stranded on the side of the road for two or so hours, but it also turns out the bus driver was unsuccessful in his attempt to avoid the wheelbarrow. At the border we sit in the hot and steamy buses for an hour and a half or so, waiting for our passports to be cleared. {They have to make sure we’re not spies, quoi.} We then stop in St. Louis, Senegal for lunch, after which we get lost trying to get out of the city. During all this, the second bus gets stuck in the sand for half an hour and must be shoveled and pushed out. We arrive into Dakar at nightfall. Our bus driver, being half blind – seriously, drives in the middle of the two-lane highway, successfully drives a large truck off the road and attempts to do so with several other buses, trucks, and cars, almost getting us killed far too many times to be counted. We also make several illegal turns, including a three-point turn in the middle of a busy intersection.

Oh, yeah, and I saw a car on fire driving down the highway...

We get to the Club Atlantique, the center of all activity for the tournament, and meet the ex-pats who are kindly allowing us to crash at their homes for the weekend. We all go to their homes and crash.

The Games: Peace Corps Mauritania has three teams: the Pirates, Buccaneers, and Swashbucklers. The Pirates play to win while the other two teams play to have fun. At each game, pirate flags fluttering overhead announce our presence. Also in attendance is a Whiskey Wench, in full pirate gear, responsible for maintaining the team’s morale and ensuring good pirate form by passing around bottles of liquor. I demonstrate my support for the games by sporting a double Mohawk for the weekend.

The Pirates win all of their games and are again crowned champions.

The After-parties: I go to only one party during the three days we are there. Thrown by the Marines responsible for guarding the Embassy, it is a low-key affair and somewhat bland. The high point, if anything, is when a group of individuals, consisting mostly of RIM volunteers, streak through the party. The party ends early, and I walk back home.

The remaining parties are nothing exceptional, from what I gather. They are as one would expect, with some dancing and brawling and much drinking and passing out.

And finally, the city of Dakar: {Interesting fact: the population of Dakar is more than three million; the population of Mauritania is just shy of three million.} On the last day, I am able to make it out to one of the four markets in the city. Called Sandaga, the market is an immensity of a thing itself. I am taken on a tour – given by a rather nice local – and walk through the streets and alleys, filled with small vendors of various sorts, and a massive building with a spice and fish market on the first floor, a vegetable market on the second and people cooking and selling food on the rooftop.

Dakar is located on a tiny peninsula, surrounded by water on three sides. As a matter of fact, one of the tournament softball fields is located on a cliff-like place overlooking ocean. Amazing stuff, especially at sunset.

And so there you have it, a quick summary of almost everything that happened – a refreshingly nice trip. Nothing terribly exciting, I know, but a pleasant break from daily Mauritanian life.

Till next time...