You will live these sunsets as if they were the last of your life
Nobody tells you what you are about to discover when you get on the boat that takes you, along with a couple of dozen other people, from Elinquine to this tiny island in Senegal.
Nor do you sense it while the boat moves, with the engine at half throttle and without any hurry, through an exotic mangrove swamp. You don't even know when you finally reach your destination, at the mouth of the Casamance river, about an hour after setting sail.
But then you reach land, take off your life jacket and, while those who have steered the boat tie the ropes to the tiny port, you jump with energy ready to discover what is so special about this place. Hey, and you don't know why, but it gives you a good feeling.
The colored barges rest on the shore
you are in Carabane, a small oasis in the south senegal perfect for those looking to disconnect from the world for a few days. There is no telephone network here. There is hardly any Wi-Fi. What exists here are dozens of palm trees guarding beaches of fine white sand and blue waters who would already like to own some famous beach destinations. That said: the perfect place to escape.
Then you begin to walk, backpack on your shoulder, the unpaved streets of this small island. Of course: you will have to dodge puddles constantly. After all, Carabane belongs to the Casamance region, the greenest and most leafy of Senegal, and here the climate is 100% tropical. That is to say: humidity invades everything and the rains appear when you least expect it, but the sewage system is simply non-existent.
You are immediately aware that, in this corner of the world, tranquility invades everything. you contemplate the mother who, with her baby in tow, walks slowly her while she also carries a basket of freshly washed clothes. Very close a group of preteens play an impromptu game of soccer.
This is how you understand that Carabane is like an oasis in space. Like a parenthesis in time. On this island, life moves at a different pace, there is no rush and there is nothing more to do than let go, walk and live. You can't think of a better plan.
Carabane is reached by boat
Once you have chosen your hotel -the very modest Camp Le Barracuda is one of the most chosen by tourists who come here-, you go on to inquire what is cooking on the beach. A hammock tied to two trees is enough to paralyze your plans and make you achieve the greatest happiness. Lying on it you enjoy an incessant rocking with which to embrace calm and let yourself go for a few minutes.
You look around you and you like what you see. A good handful of colorfully painted barges They rest along the kilometric shore. By renting some of them you can explore the neighboring mangroves, full of bird species that delight ornithologists.
The sand is tasty of that so extremely fine that it sticks to your feet as if it were flour, and borders the island shaping dream beaches or where you can lie in the sun for as long as you need.
This is precisely what Carabane is about. Here what conquers is witness how the days go by without anything relevant happening. Observe life attentively; feel it and share it with the locals. Because one does not come here looking for great monumental claims or enigmatic stories from the past. Although beware, because there are some.
And it turns out that this small island that you see today with its dilapidated houses built with the most varied materials -from sheets to cement bricks or pieces of wood-, and without a clear network of streets, it housed the first French commercial settlements at the beginning of the 19th century.
Here you can witness the passing of time without anything relevant happening
Little remains of that colonial past today, although some remains scattered along its sandy paths endure over time. For example, church, a building with a yellow facade and Breton style whose bells are rung from time to time.
A few steps up the building that houses the school. Despite keeping your windows closed you decide to browse. Behind the glass you discover the desolate space of an empty classroom and, although it is summer and there are no students, the blackboards still have the last lesson written in chalk.
Next to the beach, another memorable visit. There it is, among trees and bushes, the curious catholic cemetery: French settlers and sailors were buried in it. The tomb that catches your attention the most is a vertical one. It is about the Captain Aristide Protet who, it seems, died in 1836 after being hit by a poisoned arrow during an uprising by the Diola, the largest ethnic group in the area. He asked to be buried standing up to continue contemplating the sea even after his death.
But the prints continue to happen in Carabane as if they were living postcards. Beyond what catches your attention is the hanging clothes, which give color and impregnate the streets of the island with a certain joy. It is everywhere, flying in the wind almost at ground level.
Paco's tailor shop
In the nerve center -to call it in some way- of Carabane, is Paco's tailor shop . Paco is a native of Carabane and famous for sew tailored suits in record time. You chat with him animatedly and something tells you that he is a guy with a lot of charisma. He is quite fluent in several languages, including Spanish.
Outside, in the outside area of his shop, various models of his creations hang, all of them made from African fabrics of the most striking colors. The success among the few tourists who arrive here is resounding.
In a narrow street you come across the maternity hospital, where you get to talk with his midwife, the only one on the entire island. Women from the surrounding area come here to give birth in conditions that, if we stop to compare, leave much to be desired.
a little later a small two-room building houses the public library. Inside, a teacher patient manages to give private lessons to a group of children of various ages.
When sunset comes is when Carabane transforms. You contemplate the sea while the yellows and oranges color the landscape and shape a beautiful sunset that you live as if it were the last in your life.
However, the function has only just begun: as soon as the sun says goodbye, the sound of a djembe is heard. Get the party started.
music comes from Calypso, a small place by the beach from which several musicians cause African rhythms to take over the environment. At the foot of the joint, the waves of the sea reach the facade when the tide rises. The bodies begin to dance without any control and what seemed to be just a hobby becomes a real show that lasts until late at night.
And so, between dances, talks and music, You decide to let yourself go once again. It is clear: this is how life works in this small corner of the world.
In this little piece of Senegal in which Africa takes shape in its fullest sense.
Life here runs at a different pace and with another color