stories.

{ June 13, 2011 @ 4:34 pm } · { Uncategorized }

Lately, I have been listening to some of the TED talks on my ipod (Ideas Worth Spreading). This morning over my oatmeal and Starbucks VIA instant coffee in my huge wooden chair in my hut (coffee courtesy of mom and dad), I listened to one by Nigerian author Chiamamanda Adichie about the danger of a single story. That was quite inspiring and made me think of the way I portray my life here, the different people I meet and how it is perceived to others.

There are some aspects of Senegal that I have come to see as somewhat universal, characteristics that I see as defining my view of a Senegalese national identity (some of which I describe in my last post). Some of these characteristics include overwhelming hospitality, a love for music, a passion for religion, and some less inspiring ones like extreme tardiness (Africa time…), and sometimes frustrating indifference. But, if I described one ethnic group, region, family or village, I could never be describing these as universal to Senegal. A story of my Malinke host mom, the doctor I work with at the hospital and the president of the English club are all going to be stories of Senegal that differ in so many ways, that if I told only one story, I would be selling you all short of what my experience of Senegal is. And again, as Adichie describes in her talk, Senegal cannot be descriptive of all of Africa. As we like to say, Africa is not a country.

So I will tell you some stories.

My host mom in Saraya, Sadio Tigana, Na Sadio as we call her, laughs at most things. And not just most things I do, but most things in general. She is an old woman with gray hair that still searches for shea in the bush to make shea butter, still farms in the fields and when she is not working out there, she is at home, shelling peanuts for hours on end. But she also is a social butterfly. She takes me around to weddings, funerals, baptisms. She is always invited to parties in other villages and puts on her fancy outfits and dances the night away. The other evening, she took me to a wedding but the dancing celebration was cancelled so we went into a boutique playing music and danced ourselves. Gotta feed the dance bug right? I told her about snow and she could not handle it, I showed her my computer, with photos of my family vaca in France, and told her about the vinyards and how those are the fields that French people work in. “oh bababa,” she could not believe it. I don’t think she has been farther than Kedougou, does not speak a word of French and is one of the contagiously happiest people I have had the pleasure of getting close to in Senegal.

The people I work with at the hospital are mostly Wolofs
and come from Dakar, Thies and Kaolack. Most of them do not speak Malinke, which is funny when I go on sorties out in the bush with them and its three Senegalese from the hospital who can barely communicate with the people of the village, and then I come out, the white chick who can speak their language. Somehow people accept it. Sometimes I think people may have the idea that I come from a Malinke village in the United States. Anyways, they are educated doctors, nurses, midwives and social workers. They play scrabble in their free time, are generally a lot more religious than the people of Saraya and many have traveled as far as Europe, the United States and even Japan. They are just as Senegalese as Na Sadio. (Some may say even more because some people say that if people do not speak Wolof that means they can’t be Senegalese. This doesn’t make sense to me but some say it).

Then there is Salouma Cissokho, the president of the English Club at Saraya High School. He speaks excellent English and if he sees one of us volunteers around, he will corner us and practice his English until his face turns blue. He told me he doesn’t know why he loves it so much, but he just loves speaking English. But he doesn’t even ask us how he can get to the United States or think about getting out of Senegal as quickly as possible. Quite the opposite almost. He was born in Dakar. His mom is from around there and his dad is from Khossanto, a village near Saraya. He came back here because he wanted to see his roots, to be with his father’s family and learn about his past. He is one of those promising young people that I could see maybe going to travel the world, studying abroad or something and coming back to serve his country. He is one of the students at Bob Marley day talking about how it is up to his generation to develop Senegal. He is proud of his identity and again, no more or less Senegalese than Na Sadio or my doctor friends.
So even out here “in the bush” there is a Senegalese melting pot of ethnic groups, languages and worldviews that create my experience of Senegal. I am sure that I could never describe one of these people to you and feel satisfied that I have explained my life here adequately. I could never even describe one day I experience here and be satisfied that that is my experience of Senegal. So I will keep trying to describe the diverse people, lives and visions that exist here in my quirky unpredictable experience in Saraya.

http://www.ted.com/