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| Dispatch From Dakar: ‘Mom, Did You Get Kidnapped?’ | Dispatch From Dakar: ‘Mom, Did You Get Kidnapped?’ |
| (about 7 hours later) | |
| DAKAR, Senegal — The man sitting in the front seat of my car was bleeding through his shirt. It had been three days since the attack outside the Splendid Hotel in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, where he was passing by when gunmen sprayed the area with gunfire. | DAKAR, Senegal — The man sitting in the front seat of my car was bleeding through his shirt. It had been three days since the attack outside the Splendid Hotel in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, where he was passing by when gunmen sprayed the area with gunfire. |
| In all, 30 people were killed. My passenger, Anthelme Djibril, was one of the more than 150 injured. I met him outside the government building where he was told to show up along with the families of the dead to meet with officials. | In all, 30 people were killed. My passenger, Anthelme Djibril, was one of the more than 150 injured. I met him outside the government building where he was told to show up along with the families of the dead to meet with officials. |
| As he waited for the meeting to start, Mr. Djibril stepped behind a tree for cover and took off his shirt to show me his still-tender wounds. On his left shoulder was what looked like a cigarette burn. The entrance wound — clean and precise. After it sliced through his arm, the bullet apparently ricocheted off his shoulder blade, making a sharp right turn straight out his back, which was a mess of blood and torn flesh. | As he waited for the meeting to start, Mr. Djibril stepped behind a tree for cover and took off his shirt to show me his still-tender wounds. On his left shoulder was what looked like a cigarette burn. The entrance wound — clean and precise. After it sliced through his arm, the bullet apparently ricocheted off his shoulder blade, making a sharp right turn straight out his back, which was a mess of blood and torn flesh. |
| As I drove him home, Mr. Djibril explained that the gunman had looked directly at him and fired. | As I drove him home, Mr. Djibril explained that the gunman had looked directly at him and fired. |
| Bullets were still flying that night when a passer-by loaded Mr. Djibril into his car and drove him to the hospital. Mr. Djibril had forgotten to ask the good Samaritan’s name, so he had stored the man’s phone number in the contacts of his smartphone under the word “aide,” or “help” in French. | Bullets were still flying that night when a passer-by loaded Mr. Djibril into his car and drove him to the hospital. Mr. Djibril had forgotten to ask the good Samaritan’s name, so he had stored the man’s phone number in the contacts of his smartphone under the word “aide,” or “help” in French. |
| The attack in Ouagadougou was the first work assignment I’ve had since I moved my family to Dakar, my home base for my job as West Africa bureau chief for The New York Times. The beat covers a wide swath of Africa: 25 countries, including Senegal. The assignment was eerily similar to the last story I worked on before I returned to America for the holidays and packed up our Brooklyn apartment to ship our belongings abroad. | The attack in Ouagadougou was the first work assignment I’ve had since I moved my family to Dakar, my home base for my job as West Africa bureau chief for The New York Times. The beat covers a wide swath of Africa: 25 countries, including Senegal. The assignment was eerily similar to the last story I worked on before I returned to America for the holidays and packed up our Brooklyn apartment to ship our belongings abroad. |
| In November I stood outside the charred remains of another hotel frequented by Westerners, the Radisson Blu in Bamako, Mali, which was attacked by Islamic extremists. A troubling pattern is emerging in West Africa, and it looks as if I’m going to have a front-row seat to the aftermath. | In November I stood outside the charred remains of another hotel frequented by Westerners, the Radisson Blu in Bamako, Mali, which was attacked by Islamic extremists. A troubling pattern is emerging in West Africa, and it looks as if I’m going to have a front-row seat to the aftermath. |
| When I first arrived in Dakar last fall, I was alone, living a bachelor’s life as I flew off to write about the Ebola virus and terrorism. My children were still at home with my husband, so my parenting duties were limited to phoning home to check in on the kids as they wrapped up the fall semester at their Brooklyn elementary school. Our conversations centered on their new bedrooms in Dakar and the tour I’d taken of their new international school. | When I first arrived in Dakar last fall, I was alone, living a bachelor’s life as I flew off to write about the Ebola virus and terrorism. My children were still at home with my husband, so my parenting duties were limited to phoning home to check in on the kids as they wrapped up the fall semester at their Brooklyn elementary school. Our conversations centered on their new bedrooms in Dakar and the tour I’d taken of their new international school. |
| Now, my three kids are with me in Senegal, and it is much harder to sidestep the troublingly real subject matter that has engulfed life around us. | Now, my three kids are with me in Senegal, and it is much harder to sidestep the troublingly real subject matter that has engulfed life around us. |
| On Thursday morning I was back home at my breakfast table in Dakar, firing off text messages to Ouagadougou to check on Mr. Djibril (he’s doing better, has antibiotics and his bleeding has stopped). My second-grade daughter was sitting beside me and had a burning question about the time I spent in Burkina Faso, where, as she now knew, anti-Western terrorists had been on the loose. | On Thursday morning I was back home at my breakfast table in Dakar, firing off text messages to Ouagadougou to check on Mr. Djibril (he’s doing better, has antibiotics and his bleeding has stopped). My second-grade daughter was sitting beside me and had a burning question about the time I spent in Burkina Faso, where, as she now knew, anti-Western terrorists had been on the loose. |
| “So,” she said, with all the casualness of asking me to pass the jam she wanted to smear across her crepe, “did you get kidnapped?” | “So,” she said, with all the casualness of asking me to pass the jam she wanted to smear across her crepe, “did you get kidnapped?” |
| When I told her that in fact, no, I had been just fine, she shrugged and headed off to brush her teeth. | When I told her that in fact, no, I had been just fine, she shrugged and headed off to brush her teeth. |
| I’m happy my children haven’t internalized the dangers of the world, and I hope those dangers never hit home for me on the road or for us in Senegal, where, like too many places these days, everyone is uneasy. | I’m happy my children haven’t internalized the dangers of the world, and I hope those dangers never hit home for me on the road or for us in Senegal, where, like too many places these days, everyone is uneasy. |
| So far at least, our family life in Dakar could be playing out on the set of “Leave It to Beaver,” with an African-Muslim twist. | So far at least, our family life in Dakar could be playing out on the set of “Leave It to Beaver,” with an African-Muslim twist. |
| In our neighborhood, a mix of Senegalese and expat families, moms lure their children home by opening their front doors and hollering, competing with the loudspeaker at the local mosque. Little kids walk themselves to school and ride bikes down the middle of the street. Hot dishes appear at our front door from friends — fish and onions and freshly picked corn on the cob. Peddlers ring our bell to sell embroidered tablecloths or vegetables. | In our neighborhood, a mix of Senegalese and expat families, moms lure their children home by opening their front doors and hollering, competing with the loudspeaker at the local mosque. Little kids walk themselves to school and ride bikes down the middle of the street. Hot dishes appear at our front door from friends — fish and onions and freshly picked corn on the cob. Peddlers ring our bell to sell embroidered tablecloths or vegetables. |
| One recent afternoon, I stood under a palm tree outside our house wondering how my daughter, barely four feet tall, could possibly have managed to propel a sandal into impossibly high branches, where it was wedged, coconut style. Before I could come up with a rescue plan, a security guard who worked down the block rushed over with an extra-long metal pole and finagled the shoe out of the tree. | One recent afternoon, I stood under a palm tree outside our house wondering how my daughter, barely four feet tall, could possibly have managed to propel a sandal into impossibly high branches, where it was wedged, coconut style. Before I could come up with a rescue plan, a security guard who worked down the block rushed over with an extra-long metal pole and finagled the shoe out of the tree. |
| How then, amid such kindness, does a parent explain to children the madness of terrorism that could arrive at any moment? I’m sure I’m not the only one asking this question. | How then, amid such kindness, does a parent explain to children the madness of terrorism that could arrive at any moment? I’m sure I’m not the only one asking this question. |
| This is part of a continuing series of Dionne Searcey’s dispatches from Dakar. |