We have moved.

‘We’ meaning TrustAfrica. Our new offices are on the road. No, that doesn’t sound right. What I should say is that we are now more visible since one can see us clearly from the main road, from afar, from the highway. Before, we were on the street. That is what I should clarify. Now we are on the road. It is a busy road. My office, which I share with Jeanne, is a room with a view. We have a long, narrow balcony where we stretch our eyes to the sky and Mamelle—the tallest point of Dakar, a place many people here refer to as the hill but which to me is a mound. I come from the land of rocky mountains and rolling hills. Understand when I look at the Mamelle, and it seems like I’m looking at a large anthill. My opinion doesn’t go well with the people here so out of politeness and political correctness, I also refer to the Mamelle as the hill. Mamelle stands for mammary—breast in French. I should say there are two breasts here in Senegal. One breast has a lighthouse which served as an important guide to seafarers and navigators in the ancient of days, perhaps even now. A statue of daunting height is coming up on the other breast. I can see it from our new office. I tell you it’s going to give the Mamelle the height of a mountain. From what I have heard, Koreans were hired two years ago to build the statue. Jeanne says it’s supposed to be a man and a woman with a child in between them. Family. Akwasi says it’s going to be one tall being. From the thighs and legs it looks like it will be a woman. We are all watching it from our balcony and speculating how grand it will be. How it’s taking around 45 Koreans to construct. Mark you this is Senegal, a land teeming with artists, sculptors and painters but none commissioned to do the structure. That says something about where the country’s values are, right? Sorry, I digress a lot. That is not what I intend to write about. I reserve the topic of Senegalese artists for another time. I should continue with my main subject, which is, we have moved. Oh, yes, now I know why and how I came to mention the artists. It’s because I am looking at the Mamelle right now as I write on my computer, on my table, in the office with a view.

A few minutes ago Jeanne spotted cows crossing the road, just like that. I have a camera constant in my bag so I have taken the pictures. About twenty cows walking side by side with cars, horses, donkeys and people. It is amazing. I will not be surprised if tomorrow I find out that we have new grantees. I mean, these cows can decide to come to our office. You should have seen them swinging elegantly, really, crossing the road and bypassing our office. Two cows looked up to read the sign. The TrustAfrica sign. I am telling the truth. What then will stop these cows from coming into our office for a grant or a convening of some sort, an understanding of our work if they digest what we are about? That is our new office area. Akwasi says it puts us right in contact with the world. It is so true. We have a good sense of what’s happening out there. Where we were was quiet and hidden. I almost felt like we were gods there. Away from human contact but available. Don’t misunderstand me. People used to find us. That’s how we managed to do a lot of work, to hold workshops, to give grants, and to facilitate collaborations. Our quiet neighborhood served a good purpose for the time we were there. Now we are in a place where anything is more possible than ever, where the unexpected is more likely to happen. I would like to say I miss the old place. We had cats, not cows. It was like home. Like a writers’ residence. I could write for hours uninterrupted by the world around me. But now the new place throbs with its own charm and wonders. It gives me more reason to be found looking out the window only to say in defense, “Can’t you see I am working.” I am now undecided on which place feeds me more, nourishes my creativity more.

We used to be in Mermoz Stele, near a gas station called Elton. That meant we could easily get food to snack on, from the Elton shop on the left side, while on the right we had Caesars, where we could get greasy chicken, Greek salad, and chawarma. There were two banks and a Western Union in between the banks. Where we are now, Sacré Coeur 3, we are within walking distance of Ecobank, a post office, and organizations like USAID, ActionAid, Population Council, and all kinds of set-ups, some of which are hard to define or pin down. There is a pharmacy downstairs—which makes it hard to complain of a headache and thereafter dash home for the tin of painkillers. There is also a doctor (cabinet medical) on the first floor of our building specializing in all kinds of sicknesses, judging from the paper pinned on the door. The gynecological to eye troubles, ears, skin, heart, nerves. …15 listed areas it makes me think what we have downstairs is a mini-hospital, not just a doctor’s office. There’s also a shop opposite our entry door that has ginger candies and other goodies. I should not forget to mention the proximity of a bar and restaurant called New Africa, which frankly, is the best thing on a Friday evening. Right after work our feet take us there, we have given up the idea of resistance. Well, not all of us but some of us. The nearness of New Africa blends with the rightness, the deserved cocktail and glass of wine after a heavy week’s work.

Now I am looking at the birds and aeroplanes, and the breast with the statue. I am startled to see planes almost landing on rooftops of the tall buildings. I am holding my breath and praying. It seems too real like it can happen, like the plane can miss where it’s supposed to land. Assuming I am inspired to fly out via the balcony, I would head towards the breast, past the VDN—a new highway that has swallowed good money—just like the new statue on the breast.

From time to time Akwasi comes to our office to look out the window (to look at the breast). He says he loves our office because it has the best view. He can see people, vehicles, birds, things in motion. I think this is the biggest deal about our new place. You see everything in motion. There’s a strong wind too that sweeps away our papers when we open the balcony door. We didn’t have much wind in the old place. We had a beautiful garden that created stable and secure feelings. It made me feel we were anchored. Settled. The ambience was perfect for stillness and stability. Here in our new place we have strong wind and everything moves. We see buildings coming up. Vehicles rushing to God knows where, cows stopping by to read our sign, and the Mamelle growing taller with the statue. It all gives us a sense of hurriedness, time running out, the need to attempt many things at once, to seize the day, and to embrace feelings of efficacy. This new place gives me assurance that we are right in the heart of where we are supposed to be—among the people and things. Here we have become people. In Mermoz I think we were gods. I am yet to figure out which is better, being people or being gods? One thing’s for sure, we have moved.