Our knowledge of the centre of Ziguinchor, its bars and restaurants were second to none. However, our usual football-watching bar was slightly unreliable and we had heard persistent rumours of a place called le Makari out in the distant district of Nema (a district which gained worldwide notoriety for my house of incarceration a few weeks previously) which had a large TV and showed football. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon and Ross, Louise and I walked off in the direction of the airport, armed only with a small piece paper with “Makari, Nema-HLM” written on it in order to ask for directions if, by any chance, we got lost on the way. Surprisingly, we managed to find it with only a few detours and tentatively opened the door. Le Makari is located in a small street where paving slabs are strewn over the road and is unprepossessing from the outside. A small sign on a small metal door is all that hints to anything being inside. However, the courtyard was shiny, the tables were covered with tablecloths, the bar was amply stocked and it had quite probably the largest TV in Ziguinchor ! It was a gem – the cold beer washed the football down very well and we left happy with our new discovery.
It was decided that we’d do a little bar hopping in the way back rather than taking a taxi home and we wandered a little further to a place called Bar Nema, another unprepossessing looking place. The room was standard for a cheap Ziguinchor bar – rickety wooden tables, plastic chairs (some still with 4 legs) and a general dearth of light. However, out the back was a courtyard showing that Africa always has the capacity to surprise, for the courtyard was home to the largest speakers I’ve seen outside of a festival and they were being used with much vigour, to the point where we concluded that conversation was pointless and so started playing cards. People started piling in and were merry and one of the more spectacularly drunk patrons attempted to play cards with us but unfortunately his alcoholic haze prevented him from getting a real grasp on the game and he would just put cards down at random, regardless of whether it was a suitable card to put down or whether it was his turn. A few other drinkers gathered around to table to watch. There are not many places in the world where a game of cards becomes a spectator sport but Bar Nema was definitely one of them !
"Hurrah ! Nothing has been stolen yet !"
The time came to move on to somewhere slightly calmer and hunt for some food and Chez Euge, just down the road fit the bill. The wine was cheap, the volume of the music permitted talking, some kids enjoyed got a dance with the toubabs and the ladies in the kitchen served up a huge bowl of grilled warthog to us for a pittance. As usual, our afternoon trip to see the football led to us returning home at 2am.
Senegalese wrestling (thanks Louise and Ross for the pics !!)
As I got up around 5am to rush to the toilet, Marta came out of her room to inform me that we’d been burgled. My laptop was gone, as was the projector we’d borrowed from work. A trip to the police station to report the theft was met with a delicate touch of disinterest from the local coppers who had just sit down to lunch and so weren’t really in a hurry. Eventually, I was invited to give details of the incident and I’d be given a letter, although I didn’t detect any hint of willingness to actually do anything about the problem. Come back tomorrow, I was told.
As I came back the next day I was told that the guy who does the letters hadn’t had time to do it so I should come back tomorrow. As I came back the next day I was told that the guy who does the letters wasn’t around at the moment so I should come back tomorrow. Ad infinitum.
Conclusion : If you’re going to commit a crime in Senegal, make sure it’s burglary. It’s a less serious crime than not carrying ID.
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