Shake Those Hips! Going out in Senegal

So, last Friday night (haha, Katy Perry song), I got the opportunity to go out and party in Senegal for the first time.  Here is how I would describe it in three words: Sketchiest night EVER.  My night began at 10:00 PM when I speed-walked my freshly showered ass in 90-degree heat to my friend's house, for fear of getting mugged on the way.  (Dakar tends to be a fairly dangerous place at night, so I was urged to use caution.  Many of my friends had their money stolen, etc...)  

I arrived safely at my destination and after much night-time adieu, I found my friend Sarah’s house.  After 30 minutes, half of the Toubab population of Dakar arrived at my friend's house for our big "go out" night.  Shortly thereafter, our host, Sarah's host brother Yousou, herded us outside where we preceded to stand and wait for another twenty minutes, unsure of what we were doing or what the Senegalese protocol was for standing and taking up space in the street.

 Once again, the signal came to move so we followed the Senegalese guys, supposedly looking for booze to "pre-game."  The first place apparently was closed so we continued to amble down the unlit road, past abandoned buildings, to a diesel-selling gas station next to a huge highway.  We picked up our supplies from the gas station (a 50cl bottle of HORRIBLE gin and a gazelle ananas, a pineappley sugar drink).  One attendant in the gas station looked at my friend Grace and proudly stated, "Danga rafet," which means "You're beautiful," in Wolof.  She didn’t really understand so she replied, "Waaw, waaw!" which means "Of course!"  I burst out laughing, and Grace just looked really confused.  I told her what the man had said to her, and she blushed and ran behind one of the aisles.  Hahaha!

So, after the clusterfuck that was getting our beverages was done, we looked for a good place to pre-game close to the gas station.  Oh, and what a place we found!  The unlit courtyard of a shnazzy apartment complex!  Are we creepers?  No!  ‘Cause this is how you do in Senegal.

Okay, now we’ll skip ahead to the club.  My favorite part of the night is when the Senegalese jams started a-pumpin’.  All of the Senegalese men in the bar descended onto the dance floor and started moving their hips in ways I didn’t even know was possible.  Every once in a while, a few would come towards me and show me how to do.  I would follow, and it was like a hip-shaking man parade on steroids!  And then came the shaky leg dance.  I think I have found my favorite dance of all time.  Maybe I’ll post a youtube video sometime for everyone’s enjoyment.  I can only describe it as a cross between a series of hip pops and a disco fever dance.  Quite similar to the shtanky leg actually.  I now know where the shtanky leg originated from… and it is a club in Senegal full of men with their wiggly butts and hips.  I can’t wait until my next dancing excursion!