miss Willis en

Back on board of the big boat sailing again to Ziguinchor. After a few days of comfort and relative luxury in Dakar, I was ending this urban episode with a somewhat glamorous conclusive cruise. I stayed a long time hypnotized on the upper deck, staring at the last fading lights of Dakar in this fresh beginning night, slowly swallowed by the dark sea. Out of my torpor, I looked at the others passengers. Many Europeans: German people, Spanish, Dutch, British, French, almost half of the people on board, the high season in full swing.

The rather cold wind in the advanced night pushed me down to the sheltered deck. I recognized there, the silhouette of a young French woman I’ve already met on this ship. Actually it was the third time; we had already exchanged a few words. We were alone, on this lower deck, and it would have been stupid to not engage conversation, even if I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Her blue stare filtered by thin glasses is sharp and direct. Good looking, not sophisticated, but everything on her, from the point of her blond ponytail to the unpainted nails of her gracious hands was breathing fineness and delicacy. Even if I started reluctantly I finally indulged in this conversation. She is in Senegal since 2006, sharing her time between Dakar and Zig, working for a micro credit NGO. Always  traveling by boat she once received the nick name “Miss Willis”, the name of the former ship that made the crossing before. One of these chemical tricks of my mocking brain, made against my wishes, a very comfortable and almost familiar moment of this common place. We entered to see if a movie was on, we talked a bit more, and she freed me from this spell. Phew! Thanks! I’m not ready for this now. But ready for what? Don’t be stupid, there’s nothing, you don’t even know her, she’s nice that’s all.

The following morning, back on the upper deck, all warped in the warm wind of Casamance, I could identify the smell, and as bizarre as it may seem I felt I was home. That surprised me, and I forced myself to take some distance. Was I right? I turned my head to starboard, and then I saw “Miss Willis” reading. Just at this moment she put the book left opened on her lap, raised her head and looked toward me with a smart smile. I crossed the deck and sat beside her. We didn’t talk much this time, but with the same feeling of familiarity. In combination with the known smell the sensation of being home became stronger. Zig is there! Bye-bye! See you soon! I dragged myself out of the demanding crowd and I jumped in a cab to the red little house. The neighbors have welcomed me with warmth and discretion; they’ve sent a child that brought me an excellent “tiepudien” (rice, fish and vegetables). I’m home, I feel good, alone, with no comfort, I’m happy.

 My phone is sliding on the braid, vibrating and snorting unpleasantly. Bad news, equipment transfer budget, under evaluated. We have to wait for the selling of goods Pascal lately brought. Waiting again. I am ready for this. I’ve prepared myself. In some other time, this news would have affected me badly, but something has changed, I could have felt it without being aware of it. This phone call made me realize how deep my faith has become. Should I stop to write this blog until the equipment arrival? No! I have to continue. These days, we only show people who have succeeded already. It’s simple, life is for winners! But a major crisis is going on to help us to reappraise our prejudices. Life is probably harsh for everybody, from the tycoon to the tramp; it costs a lot to fulfill our dreams and to make a sense of our lives. I’m not in a very comfortable position; I have to be discreet as much as possible. Miss Willis has emailed me and she’s gently sent me some good contacts, but I have to wait sometime, even to see her. My brain with its tricks urges me to call her, but a very distant and week voice whispers me to wait and stay still. So I’m alone, and quite, it’s like I’m preparing myself to fight. I’m filling up myself with nature sensations to recycle them into music and words. Great walks, I intoxicate myself with nature following my senses. Miss Willis will go back to Dakar tomorrow, and I don’t know if I will see her again. I’d like to.

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