We land in Dakar at 2. Looking from the plane at the Cap Vert peninsula, the map I had been studying for months now gains life. I know exactly where our hotel is. I come out of the plane looking for the first elemet that will prove I am in Africa. After a long queue for passport control, we enter the baggage claim area. There are three carousels, no indication regarding the provenance of the luggage on them. I ask an employee and he indicates carousel nr. After collecting our suitcases, we are again in the queue for luggage control.
I think I had never seen so many passengers before with so many suitcases each an average of three pieces, all of them huge and wrapped in plastic. The queue is getting bigger, lots of confusion; people are getting impatient and looking tired.
A policeman shows up and asks for passports. He lets people get out from another way, avoiding the luggage control. We get out of the airport and we feel a light, pleasant breeze.
Our guide is waiting for us. His name is Idrissa Idi. He asks if we are going to speak in spanish or french. A relief for him, a great pleasure for me.
The city is totally empty. Not a car, not a living soul. We get to the hotel in 15 minutes. I am restless. Women give so much colour to everything. I tell Idi that Senagalese women are very beautiful. The slaves' house. We come out to walk around the island. The boutiques owners wooden stalls selling handicraft are unbearable.
