We [Emily, Colleen, Alex and I] took off relatively early from Dakar to make sure we didn't hit traffic. We were originally going to take a sept-places, but we got re-routed to a mini-bus, which I can add to my official list of Senegalese transportation that I have experienced. It was not bad at all, and was a step up from my previous transportation experience, where I had my head turned at a 75-degree angle during the entire 2-hour trip.
Anyway, we arrived at Kebemer, disembarking to greet our usual number [10 to 15] of fans, wanting to know where we were going-- oh, Lompoule? 2,000... too much? how much will you pay?-- and all hoping to take us there. We had been planning to take a taxi-brousse to Lompoule, but when I told a man that we would take him up on his offer to drive us there for the same price as the bush taxi, he accepted. Hey, joking down the price never hurts!
When we arrived in Lompoule village, we were greeted by the usual vendors hoping to sell us cheap bracelets at outrageous prices and the 4x4 that would be taking us to the camp, alhamdoulilah. We hopped on the 4x4 and enjoyed the slightly-too-speedy ride into the cool sand dunes. Upon our arrival, I was intensely amazed by all of the beautiful white sand. There was… a lot of it. We left our stuff in our tents (seen below—cozy!) and climbed the very, very steep sand hill:
As you can see, I had some difficulties. After finally arriving at the top, we marveled at the awesomeness of it all, and took a few jumping pictures:
(photo credit: me)
Soon after, they told us that the main attraction was still to come: the camels awaited! We dashed to a nearby hill, where the camels eyed us warily as we prepared to mount. I myself was eying the camel warily, realizing that this was probably a huge mistake and I might fall to my death from the ten feet of air the hump would give me. Still, despite my misgivings, I mounted the camel’s hump, leaving Alex to get into the birth-giving seat.
The camel took us up and down several dunes for a ride that lasted about 15 to 20 minutes. And believe me, that was quite long enough—for several days afterwards, I again sought the softest seats available. I’m not sure what it is about my friends that makes them so attracted to such painful experiences, but there you have it.
After the camel ride, we had dinner and dancing. Tragically, the thirty other people in the encampment were tourists, and didn’t realize what Senegalese dancing is all about (despite Alex’s accurate impression of a Senegalese woman who dashes onto the dance floor, dances furiously for twenty seconds, then runs away); so it wasn’t as fun as it could have been. Also, I tried using the djembe beat that I learned in Toubakouta, but everyone stared at me and the band didn’t join in, so it was just awkward. So much for that life lesson!
All in all, it was a great experience, but I definitely never need to ever ride a camel again. I think that if I need to make a trek through the desert, I’ll rent a completely non-green humvee and just zoom right over the sand dunes. But… really, I needed that experience to complete myself. So here’s to you and your very long legs, Mr. Camel!
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