December 10th — As we walked toward the large concrete walls we knew it was the right place. Even among the crowded streets with its many vendors hawking their goods and blaring taxi horns, the English language was quite discernible. The three of us were instantly picked out as “the rowers” before we made it within 10 feet of the gate. How one could have picked us out, a group of three, all well over 6 feet tall with white skin and blue eyes, among the crowd of so many that morning was impressive. After almost 10 days here I thought we blended into Dakar quite well.
Our warm reception, we had come to learn, was typical of Senegal but always quite welcome. The principal walked us into the grounds and introduced us to Ingrid, who had engineered the whole visit. The soccer pitch was the greenest in all of Dakar, and children ran about just as in any other school. It was strange to be surrounded by yells and conversations all in English, but a relief knowing our first school visit would not have a language barrier… It’s hard enough to explain to a friend what exactly it is we’re doing. When a language barrier is involved people are sure you’re not speaking correctly or they have misinterpreted your words. Luckily this would not be the case.
After a quick tour of the school we headed to the teachers’ lounge for a quick coffee or water. The small carousel filled with books in English ran all genres – from David Baldacci to a cook book or two. As teachers poked heads in, they seemed to all recognize we were “the rowers” and introduced themselves, even if on the way to class.
Ingrid led us to the gym were we’d be giving the presentation. Bright colors adorned the walls, including a large mural of the school mascot, the Jaguar. The basic touches of a typical North American school were hinting at a fairly straightforward assembly. Students from 3rd grade to 12th entered the gym, about 50 in all. The 3rd graders seemed in awe of us at once, and the older classes were happy to get out of laps in PE class. After a few more tweaks with the PA system and microphone (and a few Insha’Allahs), we were off and speaking.
The movie, Salish Oars, answered some initial questions and always gets a good laugh during the scene where Adam is distraught over the state of the “shit bucket.” The questions, though, were what really made the day:
How many whales? What kind of Whales? Killer Whales? Blue Whales? Do you like whales? Sharks? You don’t shower the WHOLE time? Why don’t you just inject vitamins and chew gum to keep your jaw muscles working instead of packing all that food? Don’t you work? What does your family think? Won’t you go crazy with just four of you? Where is the science data going? So if you’re doing science why don’t you use shoebox-sized robots to explore deep sea vents controlled by remote from the boat? Whose idea was this? You row all the time? What about storms? All four of you, in there, in a storm? Wait, seriously, what about sharks? Why Senegal? Do you know people here? Do you like Senegal? How long is the trip going to take? Will it get boring? Will it get scary? How much does Jordan cry? Can I have your autograph?
The questions never ceased. Everyone had something to ask. Whether they thought we were crazy, inspirational or just odd the students seemed stoked to talk with us. Afterwards, we were bombarded by teachers and students alike. They introduced themselves, offered help in the way of friends and contacts in Senegal, an invite to dinner, a contact at another school, a bite of their snack. The third graders had disappeared, only to come racing back into the gym, usher us outside to the bright picnic tables and demand autographs from all of us, not to mention a few words of wisdom; everything from a security briefing to the best fish to eat. Here we were, 3 guys prepping for a huge adventure (an experience of a lifetime!) and instead one was unfolding before us, in the place we thought was just a waiting room for the start line.