Traffic 101

The Art of Taxis in Senegal:
I have never hailed a cab in the United States, but I imagine that the experience is significantly different here. I thought it would be a good idea to give you a little insight into the cultural jewel that is the Senegalese Taximan.

I have grown accustomed to the way taxi drivers will honk, slow to a crawl and fix their eyes expectantly on me as I walk to school (or anywhere, for that matter). At this crucial moment, it is very important to avoid brushing a strand of hair out of my face, itching my ear, swatting a fly, or making any other gesture that might possibly be construed as a hail. Since my colleagues and I are quite obviously foreigners, it is assumed in the taxi world that we have no idea where we are going and most definitely need their assistance. When that happens to be the case, the first step (after making a point to greet them in Wolof, of course) is negotiating a price. The conversation usually sounds like this:

"La Grande Catherale downtown?"
"2,000 francs."
"No, that is much too expensive..." (In reality, this is about four dollars) "...I know how much it should cost: 500 francs."
"That is much too little. Traffic is heavy. 900."
"Traffic is always heavy! It is not that far. 600."

At this point, either I begin to walk away, clicking my tongue, or the taxi driver rolls a few inches until someone gives. Sometimes it takes a few cabs to get down to a reasonable price, and it is always beneficial to throw in as many Wolof words as possible. And thus the delicate ritual of the cab ride begins.

The next step is to slide into the often smelly, torn-up back seat and hold on for dear life as Dakar passes by. Sometimes, the driver will stop for gas or to ask directions. Once, a cab driver pulled the taxi onto the sidewalk and crossed the street to talk to some policemen. Sitting in the idling car, my three friends and I looked bewildered at each other and waited. After several minutes, we got out, miffed. We found another taxi.

Taxis aside, there is a wonderful little phenomenom on the streets of Dakar called car rapides. I took one for the very first time just a few days ago. As a form of "communal transportation," one can flag down a car rapide and hop on or off with relative ease. Payment is usually whatever the smallest coin in one's purse is, and the route is wherever people happen to be headed. It is often very crowded on the inside. But what is most notable about car rapides is their exterior. These mini buses exhibit as much color as the women's clothing here in Senegal. Writing and pictures of all colors are painted on a bright blue and sunny yellow base, often with "Alhamdullila (Arabic for "Thanks be to God") splayed across the sides. They bump along like some fantastical cartoon in the midst of the otherwise dreary traffic. While generally much less "rapide" than taxis, I find them to be by far preferable.

Traffic in Senegal is terribly chaotic, as it is in many underdeveloped countries. In the US, we can safely expect motorists to understand and follow basic traffic laws, (with the exception of the occasional crazies, usually hailing from California. It's proven.) Although speeding and road rage are common complaints on American roads and highways, there is a system of organization that is almost completely lacking in Senegal. And yet, painting lines on the roads or improving signage alone will not have much effect. The attitude of all our friendly taxi and car rapide drivers, along with other Senegalese behind the wheel must change; herein lies the challenge.

I was fascinated to see a television advertisement sponsored by the Department of Transportation, the only evidence I've seen of an attempt to improve the traffic situation. It featured seemingly simple trivia questions (for example, does the pedestrian have the right-of-way on a crosswalk?) and then prompted the public to text-message their responses in for the chance to win prizes. I'm not sure I'd like to see how many answered incorrectly. Judging from the absolute exhilaration I experience after successfully crossing the street, life intact, I could venture a guess.

Traffic is one of the topics that has struck me (thank God only figuratively!) here in Senegal. Although the subject itself seems so mundane, there are so many developmental and cultural elements that it displays. Not least of all, traffic can be a very real example of what "under-developed" actually means. For, with improved traffic laws comes improved safety, improved transport of goods, less fuel wasted in traffic jams, and fewer work hours lost in commute. And less time in smelly taxis. Something to think about next time you are waiting for hours at the DMV or are paying a speeding ticket, n'est-ce pas?