Big Mama's House

We began our journey at 5:30 AM from the village to the regional capital of Ziguinchor. Once there we start a process of sorting through all the voices shouting at us to buy goods ranging from household items to electronics to livestock. While anime Kleenex™ type facial tissues are obviously super tempting, what we actually need is a sept-place to Dakar. 

During the milling around phase of this process we notice a familiar face. It's Big Mama from the ride down from Dakar last week! We exchange pleasantries about our visits, and she informs me there are no more cars to Dakar. She assures me she will fix it and slowly moves off to do what Big Mama does. Through some form of wizardry that only women in this culture wield, she is able to secure a sept-place to a midway city at a fair price. From there, the plan is to find another sept-place to Dakar. She makes sure we all have comfortable seats, and off we go.

Arriving at the midway city of Koalack, our very angry and over aggressive driver just stops the car at the main market in town, turns off the engine, and walks away. The deal was for him to take us to the garage to catch another sept-place to Dakar, not abandon us at the market. Since the market is nowhere near the garage, Big Mama rolls into action. She is obviously not going to walk, so she begins to scold everybody in earshot, starting and ending with the driver, but including 2 shop owners, 2 local taxi drivers, a policeman, and a couple random passersby. After much "discussion" a suitable compromise is reached. All 5 of us climb into an economy car doubling as a cab and off we go in a sweaty heap to the garage.

Big Mama does not like the looks of the first sept-place to Dakar, so she has them bring a different car. We pile into the better seats and are off to Dakar in a few minutes.

Arrival in Dakar usually includes random stops to let people out on the way to the garage. Big Mama insists we come to her house to have some tea and wash up after the long hot dirty trip. We have several hours before our flight, so I agree. Pulling up to her building she tells me to look carefully so I will know where to tell the taxi driver to go next time I am in town.

Upstairs at Chez Big Mama I am told her house is my house. Free Internet, a place to bathe, an English toilet, tea, television...very nice. She offers us some food, but we really need to get going to catch our flight. She calls her personal cabbie to pick us up and take us to the airport for a very fair price. We exchange addresses and other ways to connect, take some photos, and head down to the cab. Big Mama follows us down with a big tear in her eye and makes us promise to let her know when we arrive in New York.

If angels appear as large African women, then Big Mama has some wings tucked under her size XXXL "moo-moo".