Keur Moussa and Lac Rose

The two highlights of our first group excursion outside of Dakar were Keur Moussa and Lac Rose. Dakar, like probably any African capital, is an incredibly busy place and to call the roads chaotic would in no way be an overstatement. For this reason, if you intend to leave the city, it is imperative that you leave early before Dakar becomes a frustrating gridlock for any form of transportation. We were out of the city by nine and en route to Keur Moussa. It was great to get a little break from the city and gain some perspective by seeing what lies inland of the Cap Vert peninsula.  I have yet to see what rural Senegal is like and this trip was my first taste of that. The notion that Senegal is indeed mostly desert is hard to grasp on the coast and within the city limits but you soon get a feel for it once you head East. There is plenty of land but much of it is, presumably and unfortunately, not fit for any kind of agricultural activity because of the dryness and lack of arability.

Keur Moussa was a stark contrast to the surrounding desert. They have figured out an irrigation system, which is capable of supporting all sorts of plants, most notably fruit. We got an abbreviated tour of the many acres that the monestary owns and uses and the basis for their fruit harvesting and processing program. They make everything from jelly and syrup to juice wine, all made on the premise. In addition to getting a bag of grapefruits I bought a bottle of mandarin-ginger juice and three types of preservative/jelly (orange-papaya, bisaap, and lemon-mandarine-cashew). So far everything I’ve tried from that place has been unreal and I wish there was some way to get it elsewhere, but as far as I know they only sell it at the monastery. The also have a number of goats and pigs, which I assume are there to be eaten or in the case of the goats, milked for cheese (sorry pigs, as far as I know they only produce bacon). Keur Moussa is an inspiring example of how a little ingenuity and dedication can lead to a really special, self-sustaining commune, even in a relatively inhospitable land of Senegal, environmentally speaking. Then there was the mass.

After doing my homework in the Lonely Planet travel book, I was under the impression that the Mass was to be the main feature of a visit to Keur Moussa and, while it was certainly impressive, I found what I have described above to be more noteworthy. The Mass, however, was definitely worth seeing. It was an interesting mixture of traditional and Western traditions (brought by the missionary activity that is behind this whole establishment). There were 3 old white guys and the rest were younger, African monks. The Mass featured singing that one could here in any Western church, however, it was paired with traditional African instruments such as the Djembe drum and Kora (another one of Keur Moussa’s claims to fame). It almost seemed contradictory to me because here was the result of a once oppressive missionary/colonial venture that had morphed into a collaboration of traditional African musical and spiritual expression and Western religious practice. I couldn’t help but think about the story behind this place and whether this was just a remarkable example of such collaboration or whether the history of this religious mission was a little more tainted than what one is led to believe.

On our way to stop number two we really got to see some of rural Senegal. The thing that struck me the most was the number of people not doing anything, presumably because there was nothing to do. While there was a subtle feeling of hopeless despair, most people did seem happy, and I thought that instead of pitying them maybe I should envy or perhaps try to emulate the simplicity of their lives because there is something beautiful in that.

Lac Rose (=Pink Lake) is allegedly one of the chic getaway destination for Dakar’s bourgeoisie, however when we go there I was not sure why or even how that could be the case. It is essentially a long, thin, shallow lake that has about 10 times the salinity of the ocean, so when the light is right it looks pink, apparently (you tell me). 




I thought the most valuable aspect of the trip was seeing a grassroots industry in operation. Much like a fish market, there are men who go out on boats, scrape the mud off the bottom, bring it to shore where they unload their haul into women’s buckets, who take them on to shore where the salt is somehow dried and extracted, and then bagged for distribution. Just down the road our final stop was at an isolated desert where some reckless white people were cruising around on 4x4s.