Monday morning around noon there was a major car accident by the Botou school. One of the mini cars (buses, almost) had a loose tire. The apprentices who hang off the back, alerted the driver who refused to stop and fix it until they reached Tamba. The tire fell off and rolled into my village (50m). The car stop, flipped over and killed one woman immediately when she fell out the window and was squashed by the car. My village came running out. The men rushed to the scene helping anyone they could and directing traffic around the accident. Some people thought there was a fire so buckets of water were brought. When they realized there was no fire, but that people were injured and some even dead, the women began wailing. This is the wailing that begins deep in the lungs and comes out almost like a screech. It's terrifying and brings sadness immediately. I stood with the women who kept a 20 feet distance or so from the accident. The voyeur aspect of the accident was incredible. The women watched for hours as we waited for the ambulance and gendarme to come and then waited for the ambulance to come back to remove the deceased. The woman who died on the scene was left in the road, under the sun, for at least an hour and a half. People were sitting alongside the road, bleeding and in shock. I watched as every other mini car full of passengers stopped, got out and walked to the accident to see what happened, if they knew anyone and then pile back into the car to continue on their journey. Six cars of people, maybe a hundred total, plus the hundred or so from my village were watching everything unfold. It took half an hour for the ambulance to arrive. Then the gendarme arrived with our village chief. They put the driver of the car in the gendarme car and the proceeded to get the injured in cars to be taken to the hospital. Luckily no one from Botou was in the car, but some people from my village did apparently know the one woman who died. It wasn't until the next morning that we learned that three more people died in the hospital. It was terrible and terrifying.
Tuesday morning after spending some time at my uncle's place he came back from Tamba with pieces to fix water spigots in other villages and said he was going to go into some bush villages to fix things. I asked to join him. I've wanted to visit all the villages in the bush but I have been reluctant to go alone. So together we headed out on our bikes. The first village we went to is called Koro Maji, another Bambara village about 4km up the road. From there we went to Ira Koto, a Mandinka village, which is another 4km and across the train tracks. There we met with a guy who is a member of the water association that manages the water tower. He was at the school which has recently been built, complete with a beautiful cement wall surrounding the grounds. From there we crossed the highway and road to Diayabugu, a Soninke and Bambara village. It sits up on a hill and apparently during the rainy season there are times when nobody can leave because erosion has created a moat around the village. Biking into this village you can see the minarets of the mosque. Upon seeing the mosque in person I was completely awestruck by its beauty. It was pristine, turquoise blue, and magnificent, soaring above the village. We rode through, greeting the elderly men who had just exited the mosque. From there we biked to Kouthia, another Soninke and Bambara village. There we fixed the robinet at the village chief's house. The man we found there had worked in Boulogne, France for 40+ years and was now back in Senegal for his retirement. A sweet man who offered us lunch and even paid my uncle for his time (which doesn't usually happen). Upon leaving Kouthia I was stopped by a Pulaar woman who turned out to be one of the host moms of a volunteer friend of mine. She is pretty deaf and doesn't speak Bambara (and I don't speak Pulaar) but we were both thrilled to see each other (and that we recognized one another). We had a brief conversation in two languages and then parted ways. The last village we biked through was Nema, which is the tiniest village I've seen so far. Three compounds. Some of my Fofanas live there and I've been wanting to see them for awhile now. We sat and greeted them and then took our leave and biked back through our fields to Botou. It was great fun to bike with Mahdu and see the bush and the villages that I've been hearing about for a year now. Mahdu is so patient with me and all my questions and even indulges me when I tell people that I am his plumbing apprentice. Quite the contrast from the day before, but I guess that's life. Unexpected tragedies and treasured travels in the bush.
