Borders? I have never seen one. But I have heard they exist in the minds of some people. - Thor Heyerdahl

29 January - 3 February 2020, Thiѐs to Dakar by bus
Residence la Mariame 13,500XOF (R329)

We left our bikes and baggage in Thiѐs, about 70km east of Dakar, as it sits on the road north to Mauritania, our next country. We drew cash at an Ecobank, then taxied to the bus station where we were lucky enough to find an almost-full bus. As buses don’t depart until full, this radically reduced our potential waiting time; and the modern, fast-moving motorway into Dakar, brought us to the capital in record time.
Carrying our single bag, we taxied immediately to the Mauritanian embassy, as it was a visa we were in search of, only to be told that the embassy does not issue visas; these are issued at the border crossing at Rosso.
Charl suggested we apply instead for our Moroccan visas, something we had planned to do in Nouakchott, Mauritania. What a horrible shock we got. The Moroccan embassy assured us that their “number one rule” is that they do not issue visas to people who are not citizens or residents of Senegal. We simply could not budge them, so proposed we return with a letter from the South African embassy requesting they waive this rule. They agreed we could do so, but promised nothing.
At the South African embassy, we met with a young man who promised to put a written request from us in front of the Consul. As soon as we had tracked down, via Google and Booking.com, a reasonably-priced hotel in Nord Foird, we sent a draft letter for the Consul’s consideration. That was the Wednesday we arrived in Dakar. On the Thursday, we were told our passport copies had been forwarded to Home Affairs for verification, and on the Friday, an hour before closing time, we were told to collect a letter signed by the Consul to the Moroccan Ambassador.
We were very disappointed to find that the letter confirmed only that our passport details are accurate, stating: “This letter is issued for the sole purpose of providing the above information.” It said nothing at all about waiving the resident rule for two explorers who had been unable to apply for a visa while still in South Africa. We knew it would get us nowhere, so complained to the young man, who got us an interview with a nervous Consul, who got us an interview with the Political Counsellor, Clara Kiesewetter. Clara, due to retire mid-2020, has been with the foreign service for 28 years and understood immediately what it was we needed. She promised to speak directly to someone in authority at the Moroccan embassy and Whatsapped us Saturday morning to say that the higher-up would issue visas following a more formal request from her in writing Monday.
Clara also invited us to dinner Sunday night. It was a real treat spending the evening with her and her academic husband, Andreas, a historian and author particularly drawn to the Middle Ages. An added bonus to a stimulating evening was being served delicious bobotie and a South African Shiraz - such a treat from home. We were really thankful to find that Clara, due at a distant meeting early Monday morning, had gone into the office Sunday morning to prepare and send the letter to the Moroccan embassy. So very generous.
Monday morning we applied for and were granted our visas for Morocco. Yay, yay, yay. Charl had forgotten to wear his long trousers and was offered a loaner by the security guard who keeps a supply of clothing and footwear in his hut at the gate to ensure visitors are properly attired. Although the trousers were in OK condition, for some reason they made Charl look vaguely homeless. But at least his legs were covered, which could not be said of a young Muslim mum in the waiting room, the hem of her pretty dress well above her pretty knees.
On a couple of our nights in town, we shopped at the nearby Auchan supermarket and made an apple and pickle and salami and mayo salad to eat in our room. One night we dined at Figo, one night at an unnamed place next door to Dakar Chicken Burger, both within walking distance. And one night ate calamari and French fries at one of several small Senegalese restaurants on the peninsula near the westernmost point of Africa.
Dakar is one of the more developed cities in central and western Africa, and as the evenings are cool at this time of year, it was a pleasure spending time here. Dakar / Senegal has grown at 7 percent per annum for the last four years and measures 117 on the Economic Freedom of the World index, just a little below South African at 109. There are many attractive buildings, many parks, relatively clean streets and beaches, many restaurants and supermarkets catering to expats and wealthy locals and offering (expensive) imports from Europe and elsewhere. The people are friendly and hard-working, the poor sensibly allowed still to trade on sidewalks near where the wealthy live and play. While government is getting many things right, it still, of course, can’t resist the odd vanity project such as an upgrade of the unused railway station and an apparently unnecessary new airport, which is putting many businesses near the old airport out of business. They should instead, it was suggested to us, do something about the raw sewerage still running in some of the streets near the ocean…