Independence Day

The 4th of July was a memorable celebration in Dakar. I was invited to a poolside BBQ by the fellow who Jessica and I met on the boat to Goree (the one wearing the Red Sox hat, who gave me his business card) and celebrated the holiday with about a dozen Americans and a few non-Americans who were game to partake in a little Americana. I loved watching one Senegalese man listen intently to the recipe for constructing the perfect “hamburger Americain” and then trying his first burger, fresh off the grill. Most of the folks at the BBQ work together and the gathering also served as an office-warming party … which sounds weird until you see that the office could have been transported straight from Santa Barbara. It’s one level, a sprawling house-converted-to-office space (like many offices in Dakar) overlooking the ocean, with palm, mango and citrus trees, a pool, and an outdoor firepit that would look at home in a Sunset magazine shoot.

I brought a couple of salads and bread, the daughter of the fellow who hosted the party made a fruit salad and a pasta salad, and the guys grilled hamburgers, chicken, and ribs. After dinner, sitting around the table outside on the patio under a near-full moon, enjoying the warm but no longer hot evening and refreshing occasional breeze, someone popped open a laptop and found the Declaration of Independence online, so we all took turns reading aloud a section.

I would have been perfectly content to leave the party while it was good and mark that down as a terrific 4th of July, and go home. However, I had been invited by the gardener at the house where I’m dog-sitting to his neighborhood’s wrestling championship matches. I couldn’t pass up the chance to watch traditional Senegalese wrestling. We were instructed to arrive around 8 pm but arrived at 20 ‘til midnight, and yet our timing couldn’t have been better – the first match (of 7) was just underway.

We were led to a row of chairs and seated us in the third row, right in perfect view of the “lutteurs” (wrestlers) and the dancing that is part of each pre-match warm-up, and where the winners are presented with flags and envelopes of money. Although each match only takes 20 seconds, the pre-match psych-up goes on for 20 minutes with drumming, singing, and each wrestler and his team dancing together in a choreographed routine, with a few individuals doing free form or improv. The first rows of seats were couches and big, overstuffed armchairs, sitting in the sand. They were empty when we arrived but slowly began to fill up with people who looked very important, like parents, women wearing impeccable makeup and sparkly fabrics, men wearing boubous, and when the professional wrestling champions arrived, and the crowd went nuts.