Wearing flipflops in Rome

When I leave, tumbl updates are put aside….

And yet. Senegal is all around me (it sounds like a wishy washy song of some kind huh)! Obviously, at the Orchestra Baobab concert. Greasy sandwiches and shouts of “Dieureudieuf-wayy!” give me la nostalgie, as does the jazzman’s amazing mbalax moves (in spite of his 70+ years).

And today at the chemist, chatty old Senegalese men react with tears in their eyes to a word of Wolof - so sweeeet! One of them was missing a euro for his medicine before going home to Casamance - ay! Nekh na kay! Teresa was right. I am well on the way to chatting up any old Senegalese in order to speak three words of Wolof. Bakhul. C’est la désepéra-chion?!?