Expressions of Grief

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As said in an earlier entry, Randi and I moved a tad closer to Africa this year, having moved from our relatively upscale neighborhood in Mermoz to Cite Africa/Ouakam. One clear indication of this is the family, or families, who live across the street. They occupy an otherwise vacant lot in a half dozen structures built from found materials, ranging from cardboard, corrugated aluminum, and wood scraps of various sizes, shapes and colors.

Africans are endlessly resourceful: they make it work, and do so in ingenuous ways. A vacant lot is transformed into a home, using found materials, with the support of friends and neighbors for whom relations and relationships are capital.

Almamy has explained that they are from Guinea, perhaps with an agreement with the landowner to occupy the property, thus watching over it. Squatters such as these are ubiquitous here. Even the most posh neighborhoods, such as you find in the Almadies, have Africans of lesser means living in the nooks and crannies, and making it work.

I reflected on this point while walking to work on Friday along Rue de Ouakam skirting around a squatter sleeping beneath a makeshift tent. People make it work here, be it sleeping in a makeshift tent, in a half-constructed building, or in a cave on the shore. The subculture/s of Dakar are something I'd like to know more about. They are certainly complex.

There was a death across the street, a young mother. I watched the shrouded body loaded into a van and driven away. For two days thereafter women came to offer their condolences and to grieve. There was wailing, and flailing, falling to the ground, shouting and rolling. The photos above, taken from video which I opted not to upload, capture a few of these rich moments.