By Anthony Dentener

We embarked on our journey to the west of Africa. A partially familiar side of the world for some (mostly me) – while the polar opposite for others. Once we arrived in Dakar, we were greeted by the vibrant African summer sun. We were in search for adventures accompanied by experiences the soul needed. This was the first glance at a country deteriorated by nepotism and kleptocracy, I thought to myself. It must be like elsewhere. But myself and EP were on a mission to discover the true meaning of success and to see the real Senegal.

We arrived by the warm comfort of Bandias village like the sun welcomed us off the plane in Dakar. We endulged into traditional cuisine and spieled in a splendour of different activities with the kids. Once the sun toned the horizon kissing the due point, we left to rest our bodies upon the journey guided by the Senegalese fishermen on their resilient wooden boats. Our next trip began as one closed. We stepped gracefully on the boats and headed straight to Bandias lodge that he manages.

Not any lodge, the Hukana lodge. One that meant a lot to those that have been there before. We spent three nights under the stars that liberated the darkness in utmost consolation. Numerous activities were planned and executed. Including trips to and from the local neighbouring village, where we found our first Catholic Church. While meeting new faces on the way, human and creature. Then in a flash bags packed themselves, mandated by our itinerary. As we morally did not want to leave just yet. A piece of our heart, left behind. We traveled onwards.

Eight hours! A drive that lasted a lifetime came before us. A drive that transpired into an opportunity to try different local foods and finds taps to wash our hands along the way. Washing away under the process of consolidation upon our very hands and soul. While embracing the sliding of wheels on our vans across the unexpectedly newly tar roads, away from cattle and bikes. The roads were not the Africa I thought I knew. We eventually arrived at THE village.

Niognani – a place that witnesses and coincides with the beauty of family and community cultivating into the aspirations of life long lasting survival. As without this sense of togetherness there is no Niognani. Amongst half a hundred children to a sick chief, this place provided so much to think on. Most of all is the sense of belonging and respect everyone has for one another. Whether you’re a South African or a Senegalese native, this place felt like a home. We experienced the most traditional experience while enjoying the splendours of what a river could offer. Washing away the petty social constructs the western society has taught us through propaganda and social engineering. With many examples, playing football with myself and Blake Blerry on one particular occasion stood out to me like an American would in Dakar.

An occasion that no professional photographer could capture. You had to be there. The kids smiles illuminated the fogged sky while playing the most beautiful football id ever seen for kids that age. Smiles that lasted for the entirety of the time spent in Niognani. Like how the distance an African sunset travels kilometres on end through the gaps between the branches of the renowned baobab trees. What I’ve learned during the course of time at Bandia and Kecouta’s villages is that we are stronger together. A phrase my national rugby team at home is renowned for. That life has a deeper meaning than material goods. These people from Senegal are rich in knowledge, experience’s and memories. While the western world the polar opposite. Money.

On night there we spent reminiscing times spent watching Bambi and Madagascar in real time. This trip was my first time on a safari, which seems ironic since I’m from South Africa. We toured the biggest national park in West Africa and stayed in a small lodge deep in the bush. That night we spent time catching the splendours gifts the Gambia river provides to us homosapenians. Watching Alex and Flag become fisherman of the day under the watchful soft eyes of Mr Alter. The final few meters were driven before we came out of the longest drive way of a park I’d ever driven.

Twelve hours! A drive dodging the erosions of transportation routes amongst Senegalese developing infrastructure. Mama and I sat beside each other talking about Senegal and Europes magic. Myself and Mr Smith talked history. We arrived at a Spanish like villa that overlooked the sparkling waters off the hills of what is regarded as white foreigners hill.

My time as leader of the day had ended abruptly. Perspective and success is the focal point of this blog post. How we shall not disrupt the way we live when coming to a different place. But rather stay true to your morals and values while learning and adapting to the new faces of regions that come across our paths in life. What I’ve learned from Bandia and Kakuta is that there comes a time to hand off the baton to the next youthful generation of the community. To invest into the future of the planet. One child at a time. One step at a time. Just as Senegal has shown me its true nature.