Parking in the city center: A ballet of cars organized by maestros

Every day, hundreds of motorists head towards the city center. But in a city that is already small in size, the center is no exception. So, to park in time, you first have to find out where. An equation for some, with several unknowns. Some, however, find their livelihood there by becoming valets..

It’s Monday, 1:44 p.m. The hot sun of Dakar imposes its law on the heads of men, making a salty liquid drip down the tired faces of some like the equation of motorists parking in the city center. All along Independence Square, under construction, there are parking spots for cars. Next to it, like little ants, men, often in their thirties, are busy parking the cars.

A first black Peugeot 2008 runs along the left lane and luckily finds a free spot near Avenue Georges-Pompidou. A “valet” removes the red and tired cone that was there.

The motorist parks there. He doesn’t get out of his car, unlike others. He’s on his phone, windows down. Due to a lack of parking spaces, some park on the road, occupying the two end lanes, out of four. The others who are circulating are obliged, as after consultation, to form three improvised lanes dividing the two in the middle. A gentleman in a Hyundai Sonata arrives slowly, rolling down his window. He speaks in a soft voice: “Where is the Islamic bank? » Two “valets” had gotten up, thinking that he wanted to park like the others. One of the two, discouraged by the question, turns around as if he were ice skating. The other, pointing his index finger to the left then to the right, takes the time to explain.

“We are here to work and bring something home,” said a gentleman in a swimsuit. It is difficult to say which team, because it is not very clean. Maybe Senegal or even Mali, who knows?! The green color of the jersey struggles with the black layer that wants to conquer it. Next to him, another gentleman in a blouse explains. “These parking spaces that you see are managed by the SDIH company. Some are reserved because the company has given them to workers from the surrounding area. They will pay each month and the Plateau town hall will have its share. He adds, it’s well organized. »

Distress

He restarts. “Those who don’t have a coat only work informally. They are mostly car washers, but also valets. If you can’t find a spot to park, you give them the keys and they will find some for you. If you come back, you wave to them, they will bring your car back to you. » The other in the green jersey reappears after going to get a BMW X3. Just as the one in the blouse finishes, he says: “And the owner gives us an amount that he thinks is reasonable. »

A little further down, opposite the chamber of commerce, a Fiat 500 in the color of the building parks. He put on the hazard lights while waiting for a space to become available. “Come, come!” » exclaims a young man. “You can’t see we’re here,” replies another, visibly older. He wears a blue blouse that is closer to black than anything else. Behind the blouse, it is mentioned in white SDIH. Like the one who wears it, it has lived its time. No free space this time. Two minutes pass, a red Kia Sorento leaves its spot. The slow driver of the Fiat is overtaken by an orange Ford F150 which takes advantage of the space freed up by the Korean. Like kids playing “Parking Jam.” In this heat, staying in your car means defying the heat.

Even with the air conditioning, the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Ten minutes pass. Still no room for the driver of the Fiat. He decides to take the tour.

One offense among several

Perhaps he will find a place on the other side, opposite the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Nothing on that side either. He points to his bumper again and repeats the same thing. With the engine stopped, he presses the button activating the hazard lights.
The police officers, stationed at the entrance to Avenue Pompidou, do not seem to care about the cars poorly parked by the “valets”. The driver of the black 2008 leaves his spot. On the passenger side, a lady took a seat. The driver reverses in the forbidden direction, instead of going around. It cuts off car traffic by leaving the left lane to take Georges-Pompidou on the right. An infraction that one of the valets does not miss. “Boss, boss! » he shouts at the top of his lungs. “Look at that car. » The officer sitting in the police car sticks out a foot and head, noting the infraction. He gets into the car, takes his black beret and, with a wave of his hand, signals the driver to pull over in order to fine him. He approaches. Without waiting to be asked, the driver rolls down his window. Face half closed. The police officer writes him the ticket and takes with him, in his car, the license of the young man in his thirties. He leaves. Slow gait, marked stomach, advanced baldness, he walks towards the agent who has set up in his traveling office. A long moment later, he found the car he was driving with a paper in his hand.

The valet who reported the infraction is particularly active. Green bikini top, black pants. Much darker on certain points. He crosses the road, goes left, right. He does not stop during this spectacle of “stop and go” cars animated by maestros who, at times, make sudden gestures towards their pockets. Their activity is accompanied by an unusual instrumental. At every step, the keys left for them by motorists clash. They hang from the belt loops of their pants. A key with the Mercedes star logo on it hangs alone from a young man’s pants. The latter is dressed in a t-shirt and black denim pants. Her shoes, which shine in the sun, also match the rest of her outfit. She looks like a model by her size. He is also a “valet”. A gentleman in a beige suit and leather satchel in hand accompanies him to a white Mercedes GLE parked in these public parking lots. A discreet exchange takes place. One gives keys, the other a ticket. The ballet accelerates one last time around 2:20 p.m., punctuated by the sound of metal trying to resist being sawed in the fountain on Independence Square.

Around 2:40 p.m., traffic thins, avenue Léopold-Sédar-Senghor breathes. The mild sun lets thick clouds pass below it. Valets without blouses gather at the side of the road. And the discussion turns to football. “Mbappé is very personal. He always shoots at the wrong time. Said one among the group. He’s the problem. »

“A big nonsense”

The one in black from earlier talks about the risks of betting on Real. “I don’t bet on Réal or on the big teams. I prefer to put my money on the line on teams like Benfica or Celtics. » Meanwhile, some are still playing the maestros.

A motorist who appears young at first glance, but whose beard would betray an estimate of his age, unlocks a Clio from the 90s. “Parking in town?! Forget it, it’s a big nonsense. You can drive around for thirty minutes without finding a parking spot. And when you find it, it is often very far from your destination. » He pauses, wipes his greasy, wet face. Gora continues: “Here, in the parking lots of Independence Square, it’s total anarchy. You see people coming from nowhere managing parking. You park, he collects your keys and, when you come back, makes you pay. » On the outskirts of the main avenue, in rue Ramez-Bourgi, Sébastien takes it easy in his car. He’s on break. “Finding a parking space in Dakar is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Where I parked is a reserved spot. If the owner arrives, I have to leave,” he said before placing his left foot on the door, window down.

Boubacar DIOP