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Just a Dream (in English)

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I can hardly breathe in this choking heat. Left and right of me are two gargantuan asses that keep rubbing on my face. The air thumped with music so loud it’s almost earsplitting. The asses creeping up closer and closer. My body is numb, total paralysis hits me as I am unable to defend myself. I panic, I gulp for air, but there is none left. That’s how brutal the fat-tissue of the dancing women suffocate my face. I am surely about to die.

As I open my eyes, panic soon follows upon the short-lived first relief.. Air! Oxygen! Close to suffocation, I desperately try to get out of my mosquito net, which had me in tight bondage. It is only when I open the driver’s door, that I inhale the air like a lost wanderer would in the desert the first sip of water right before dying of dehydration, I calm down.

Anyone who’s an avid camper, knows the situation. The tent, car, bus, whatsoever, becomes too hot; too stuffy, to continue sleeping. Unfortunately, I overslept for approximately four hours. It is 12 o’clock – midday – the blazing sun in the center of the sky and my car right underneath it in an open space in the industrial area of Dakar, Senegal. It has at least 50 degrees inside the car, the windows closed with zero oxygen left. You could probably measure the level of alcohol in the air, the stench is dreadful.

While I maneuver myself more or less skillful out of my car – I always have to get through the mosquito net past the drivers seat, to finally pull myself out of the car via the roof rag. Doing so, I unwillingly half strip of my underwear, and find myself almost naked, confused and disoriented in the middle of the open space.

„What for fucks sack“ I think out loud while I adjust underwear and T-Shirt. „What for fucks sack, happens in your head while sleeping?“ „Why must I be suffocated by two gigantic asses?“ Thinking further and shaking my head, which makes me sick and swindle.

I take the bottle of water and down the whole one and a half liter at once. „What a night!“

My sole plan was to meet Rika for dinner. A common friend had put me in contact with the in Dakar working German. However her husband also joined us a little later. Apart of being very much sympathetic, he also turned out to be in the mood for a couple of drinks. Enjoying our self’s, one topic in particular that came up during dinner: Gabon. What is going on in Gabon? Till that very moment, I had received an eyewitness report of almost any country on my way. Not: Gabon!

When Rika left us after a good four hours – it was already midnight. Her Malian husband and I decided to stay for another drink. Rita had just left us, when Mamadou turned around to the next table. „Hey! Je suis desoleé. Mais j’ai une question! Vous etez Gabonese, no?“

Jackpot! we pull the tables together and on we went with more beer and unlimited stuff to talk about. “Gabon is great, there are no problems at all!” If I was ever to encounter a problem, I should just call them.

At a round two o’clock Mamadou left us, since he had to get up early the next day. Us, the last four, remained seated for a last round of drinks, before heading out to the next location.

I am the only white. Loud Hip-Hop music blasting from the speakers. It is almost 3 a.m. and people are sitting all over the place. At first everybody looked skeptical at me and then continued, well, sitting around?! I received a beer and the assurance that the party had not yet started. Apparently he sensed my disappointment of what I was seeing. However, only twenty minutes later, the crowd got livelier and everyone started dancing in front of their sofas and tables to, let’s say, progressive Hip-Hop beats. One couple got so naughty that you would have had to lay your hand over a minors eyes in order to protect its purity.

The whole event lasted right up until seven in the morning. Without having asked for a beer once, my new found friends anticipated my empty beer a hundred mills before I actually had it finished. As a result, I got, for the first time after two months Maghreb and Sahara, properly drunk.

„Never again!“ I promise, what I had promised myself a million times, just to break it within a week.

And finally went surfing.

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Post Author
Carlo Drechsel

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