Bon retour à la mère patrie

by Miriam Selman (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown Senegal

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Our guide Colonel calls our trip a pilgrimage. We aren’t simply on a group tour of Senegal. We are fourteen Black Woman, from across the diaspora, returning to the motherland in search of something deeper than a few holiday snaps and a sun tan. A pilgrimage can be described as a journey into the unknown, where a person searches for new meaning in life. This rings true for me as I have stepped out of my comfort zone and fully immersed myself in this solo travel experience. Colonel’s words are so powerful that I can almost feel the personal transformation that has occurred over the past ten days culminating in this tour of the slave island of Goreé. Before now I didn’t know paradise could be so painful, but as I follow Colonel past the crystal blue waters lined with palm trees towards the slave house, listening to him describe the atrocities that befell my ancestors who walked these same streets, stand in the cells where thousands were held captive and touch the frame of the ‘Door of no return’ I am over come with emotion which I could not have prepared for. I am so glad to be sharing such an intimate moment with this group of Women. Although we started as strangers, we are forever bonded through the personal understanding of the pain that can still be felt on this historic island. We are the only people of colour among the tourists which is a stark reminder of the reality I will return to the following day. Being in Senegal is the first time I have not felt the daily burden of being a minority. Stepping out of the airport and seeing a sea of black faces has lifted a weight I didn’t realise was so heavy. This alone reaffirms my need to continue this discovery of unknown lands and unknown self. There is a global narrative that black Africans do not like their western cousins, however I cannot count the times I have been greeted with an excited ‘’welcome home’’ by the locals whose hospitality has been unrivalled by any other native I’ve encountered on other trips. A vendor in Saint Louis walks me several blocks to a bank helping me improve my French along the way but putting no pressure on me to buy anything when we return to his stall. Another tells me stories of his travels to Europe and asks to take a photo with his ‘’new sister from London’’. Children of the normally nomadic Fulani tribe, who have now settled in Lampoul Desert, rush to shake my hand as I pass their village. I am told the neighbourhood in Dakar where our guide is from has an open-door policy where you are welcome in every home and can share a plate with your neighbours. I can feel this community spirit as I walk the streets, a feeling of familiarity and kindness. When I am told ‘’welcome home’’ I really feel I am. I spend my last day in Senegal at a private beach in Dakar surrounded by palm trees and pelicans, drinking cocktails and eating haute cuisine. As I reflect on my experience, I feel a strong need to put paid to the image of this great continent being malnourished children standing in front of mud huts. I cannot speak for the whole of Africa as I have so much more to explore. But, like London, In Senegal the height of luxury goes hand in hand with poverty. Yet despite its beautiful coastline, vast culture and ample opportunity for adventure; like walking with lions or surfing sand dunes, you won’t see Senegal advertised in your local travel agent as a ‘must see location’. To change this, it’s important that we avoid consuming the same input all the time. Ignore the viral videos, targeted ads and bestselling novels and opt to search for hidden or forgotten perspectives. As travellers and as individuals, we should alienate ourselves from the zeitgeist in order to see the world with new eyes. These ten days have sparked a renewed confidence and longing for the knowledge that can only be found through travel. I’m ready for the next adventure.