I cannot believe that I have been in Linguère for three weeks now! I am living with a host family this year, who I eat all of my meals with. I have my own room with a wardrobe, an electric fan (major key) and the largest bed I have ever seen (the majority of my room). My host grandmother, three aunts, and an uncle currently live in the same house, with many cousins/uncles/aunts living in nearby houses. My host father and mother are currently out of town at a larger hospital as they just had a baby boy. The community lifestyle here means that different family members are often stopping by for meals or to say hi. As a member of a family here, I have been given a Senegalese name – Pape Samba Sy. It is fun to have a name that makes me a part of the family, but it is also fun to observe people’s reactions when I introduce myself and many friends/family here find my name humorous.
Since it is the weekend I am off from work. Yesterday I went to a tailor with my host uncle and then spent the remaining morning visiting with family under a shade tree. Lunch is eaten in the early afternoon (usually around 2 in my house). We had Cebb u Jenn, the Senegalese national dish which consists of a bowl of Rice (Cebb), with Fish (Jenn) and a large variety of vegetables resting on top at the center of the bowl. A delicious onion/tamarind sauce was also covering the rice.
Today I started the day with a shower (a must in the evening and morning) and had a baguette with onion sauce and coffee with sugar. I also attended church in Linguère, which consists of a few families and the pastor. The liturgy and sermon are a mix of French and Pulaar both of which I understand little to none. I look forward to learning more language throughout the year.
The countryside of Linguère. It is currently the rainy season and vegetation blankets the surrounding land. I took these photos while on an evening run outside of town.
Young adults serve in the spirit of accompaniment, walking alongside global companions in a manner that practices mutuality, interdependence and solidarity.
– ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission
I have now been in Senegal for two weeks. I have observed and participated in the exchange of Arabic, French, and Wolof greetings with neighbors, language teachers, security guards, and shopkeepers. Our group attended church at the Dakar Parish of the Lutheran Church of Senegal last Sunday. Despite little French or Serere understanding we shook hands with and greeted every member of the small congregation before church. Later in the week our group visited a hardware shop where Pastor Kristin made a point to mention that she visits this hardware shop because one of her coworkers is friends with the owner. Through experiences of daily life in Senegal the greetings and ensuing relationships you have appear quite important to this hospitable place. I have become more aware of why thanks to an afternoon of orientation at a cultural center in Dakar (I must disclose there were fewer games than at college orientation- the silver lining in this case was definitely the Senegalese meal).
Mbokk in Wolof (the dominant local language in Senegal) refers to a person’s relatives, although this encompasses more than blood relatives. Everyone in your community is Mbokk – that is not just your family or close friends, but your surrounding neighborhood, faith community, and friends of friends as well. These are people you include in wedding and funeral invitations and other significant events in your life (unlike many literal “family members” of the US who are carefully avoided). There is no mushy “love your neighbor” language encouraging you to reach out to others, as Mbokk is an intrinsic component of Senegalese culture. Essentially your Mbokk has got your back.
I have been seeing the concept of Mbokk surface as my Senegal journey became more real. I first thought of Senegal as a distinct piece of Africa last year when one of my roommates mentioned a trip to see family and their destinations in-country. As I applied to various gap-year programs and made an effort to learn more about communities around the world I was connected with family, friends, professors, and members of my synod that spent time in Senegal among other places. Conversations about my future home base continued to be even more valuable as my living space has changed a handful of times since my parents’ move last summer. When it was determined that I would be going to Senegal a sense of closure arrived as I had a destination to look towards and friends to learn from. As I look back to the process that led to my involvement with YAGM I realize how my Mbokk has grown. Before I left I was able to say goodbye to family, friends, and my faith communities that formed me and led me to the decision to participate in YAGM.
Proceeding through the application to YAGM and navigating the different interviews and events of YAGM itself has also expanded my community. I have made new friends through the placement event in April in Chicago, and YAGM orientation this August before my departure. As a self-proclaimed introvert (I thank my college education for this liberating identity), alone time is a place where I have time to find myself and recharge. During the country selection event in April and even during orientation mid-August in Chicago I found myself pushed to spend time with others and engage in the motivated, fun group of young adults around me. Finding myself in this position frequently, I pushed through my discomfort and into a chance to hear from others. As I listened I heard words of understanding and many of my own thoughts as others shared my concerns about a year in an unfamiliar context.
The central tenet of YAGM is that of accompaniment. As I meet others and enter new social circles throughout the year I anticipate that how I value and perceive my Mbokk will change. These will be the people I look to next door for strength in times of weakness and across the globe to join in happy family moments. As I contemplate the time before me and what a new community means I know that I will need to be intentional about the choices I make, whether that is starting a conversation or making purchases at the hardware store.
“Fee fahn le?” “Sindia” “Maima watch” were the phrases exchanged before I got out of my “7 place” taxi in Sindia, Senegal. I had decided to take a day off of work and visit a new place. Earlier in the morning I had taken the Tata, a public busing system in Dakar. This hour ride over pavements of varying conditions ended at the Dakar garage. The “garage” in Dakar is the pulsing heart of transportation in Senegal, with yellow taxi cabs, coach buses, “7 place” station wagons, and many other shapes and sizes of vehicles to accommodate a traveler’s needs. Every town in Senegal has a garage on each side of town where vehicles are waiting and transportation can be arranged. Each vehicle comes with a driver or chauffeur who owns or borrows it. As passengers arrive and pay for their spot in the car the driver is paid. In addition to seats each vehicle also contains praise phrases, pictures of religious leaders, charms, and decorations. After I got off the bus I searched for a 7 place driver with my destination among the rows and rows of cars destined for all major cities in Senegal.
A “7 place” station wagon – this model of car is the standard method for travelers between cities in Senegal.
I found a driver and entered the car. A man was inside waiting, as cars leave once they are full. If one is on a tight schedule this part of travel can be especially frustrating. He was happy to converse so I put the little Wolof I knew to the test, learning he had been visiting family in Dakar the past weekend. My destination was before his, however he assured me stopping early to drop me off would be possible. As we waited others slowly seated themselves in the vehicle, and after some debate about whether I would pay a fee for my luggage we were off.
The vehicle was pretty calm during the drive and I listened to music to pass the time. As we left Dakar the sides of the highway filled with people and goods being sold. This could be anything from fresh fruit to lawn chairs to soccer jerseys. Senegal’s Petite Côte or small coast occasionally would come into view as well. I often asked what town we were passing through to ensure I did not miss my early stop. Finally, the man I’d visited with earlier tapped me on the shoulder saying we were in Sindia and I got out.
Mangoes, citrus, and various melons are some of the fruits that fill roadside stands.
I was soon in Sindia’s garage sitting in a car. The term car in this case is used very loosely; it was really a van with three bench seats in the back that could hold 14 people. I was quite concerned when I arrived as one person was seated inside, meaning I could be in for a long wait. To my surprise the car filled up in a few minutes and the short drive to the small coastal towns began. Our driver periodically stopped to let passengers off as they requested by knocking on the metal frame of the vehicle. Eventually my turn came and I squeezed my way over other people with my large bag.
An apprentice rides on the bumper of a “ndiaga ndiaye.”
Following my visit I had the chance to ride in a vehicle new to me, a ndiaga ndiaye. These large van/buses are named after a man that drove a large Mercedes Benz van at some point in Senegal. Paintings or script speaking of Mercedes Benz cover these vehicles in addition to the normal decorations and charms. The car loads from the back and contains rows of bench seats that can hold 30 or 40 people. Two apprentices hang onto the frame of the vehicle haphazardly while standing on the back bumper. These young men tell the driver when it’s time to go and when it’s time to stop by tapping the body or rear door of the car with their hand. If the vehicle begins to leave and they are not on they must run to catch up and jump onto the bumper. This larger method of transport is far slower than a 7 place taxi, but in exchange for the frequent stops a unique community spills into the vehicle from the surrounding roadside. During my two-hour return to Dakar numerous characters came and went. Both young and old entered the vehicle, I observed numerous grandmother/grandfather figures nimbly make their way between the bench seats to open seats. At one stop a young boy who is a talibé entered the vehicle. He sang some verses of Arabic while holding a can of coins for tithes, before getting off. Though most people were traveling between adjacent towns, a couple adults including myself stayed on for the duration into Dakar.
After getting out at a Dakar intersection I made the short walk to Dakar’s garage. When uncertain of the route I would question passersby who happily pointed me in the correct direction. I observe people asking each other questions all the time and I have found this to be a very normal part of life in Senegal. If I am uncertain of the way I simply ask someone nearby and I will soon have a route to follow and a vehicle to look for. Once in the garage I made my way to the bus destined for Linguère to secure a ticket and place. Though I was a couple of hours early a number of individuals were already seated. I then scoped out a nearby food mall filled with people selling coffee and baguettes with toppings such as beans, peas, onions, or meats. I found a baguette with beans and a cup of Cafe Touba before taking a seat. Cafe Touba is a special brew of herbs and coffee dedicated to the Muslim Sufi leader Amadou Bamba. I have taken quite a liking to it and my family here prepares it daily.
Starting my morning off right with a cup of Cafe Touba and a bean-topped baguette.
On the return trip, my bus stopped frequently as the driver slogged through the Dakar rush hour before reaching the open highways outside of the city. As it moved along men selling anything from perfume and toothpaste to gris-gris (spiritual charms) would board and give a long greeting. After pushing their choice goods for a few minutes they’d get off to find other clientele. During stops sellers of fruit, nuts, and water would swarm the two entrances of the bus for a minute or two before it was time to continue the journey. During one of these exchanges I bought a couple bags of oranges for my Senegalese family to enjoy. Serriché are gifts for family and friends that the traveling family member distributes upon their return. At home seeing my host family was thrilling and my missing them was reaffirmed by their own declarations.
Hospitality can take many shapes and forms. Upon entering a store in the United States staff are at your side immediately showing terrific interest in whatever question you have. During my undergraduate orientation staff and students welcomed us newcomers with snacks, smiling faces, helping hands, and small talk. When someone moves to a new neighborhood like my family did last year, neighbors stop by to welcome you and introduce you to your new surroundings.
In September as I arrived to Linguère I descended from the bus and was immediately assisted by the staff member that had traveled with us in loading my things into his pickup. We then drove to what would be my home for the year. After using the small amount of Wolof I know to greet and introduce myself, I was invited to sit on the porch with my host uncle. After attempting a few phrases in English, I realized this was not going to fly. I retrieved my Wolof notes from my room and began to ask basic questions about family members, work, and of course food. I was encouraged to speak by my host uncle and he showed me great patience as I attempted to form unfamiliar sounds with my throat and tongue. This was surprising for me, coming from a country where there are high expectations that one speaks the dominant language well. Following his genuine excitement in proclaiming one of the local dishes, we shared a bowl of vegetables over spiced beans prepared by my new host aunt. After this pleasant meal, we were served soow – a locally produced yogurt with lots of sugar.
Teranga is a traditional value in Senegal where strangers/guests are seen and honored. During the guest’s stay they receive the full attention of their host including respect, food, and shelter. Teranga is carried out by families to ensure that when their children travel they are in good hands during any misfortune that might arise. In traditional Senegalese form the meanest act one can commit is to tell the stranger “I don’t know you” and therefore you are not welcome. The welcome and hospitality of Teranga is a code lived out by the people of Senegal.[i]
Here is the outside of my home this year. There is a courtyard and house inside the gate. My host mother is a tailor and runs her business out of the gray door on the right.
One evening a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in front of my house with some family members. Another man I had not seen before was laying in front of us on the short concrete wall between the porch and the sidewalk. I am uncertain of the level of support available here for mental illness, but the man did not seem well. He did not communicate (very odd here as greetings are quite long), he was not a member of the family, and he seemed unaware of his surroundings. When my host aunt brought out glasses of soow for us to enjoy my host uncle took one to the man, addressed him – “monsieur” – and presented him with a glass. This act of hospitality has stuck with me. The gesture was simple but a genuine act of kindness.
Last week I visited a village with my coworkers to see a friend of theirs. The five of us got in the small Toyota pickup and after finding the correct path out of town began the drive over the savanna. Our journey was quite rough and set a new standard in my mind of what driving in the country means. After stopping for directions a number of times and 40 minutes of deciphering the proper paths across the winding, twisting, and bumpy paths of sand, grass, and trees we arrived at our destination. Here we were greeted and escorted through the various huts, wooden fences, sheep, and goats to a rectangular home of cinder blocks with a metal roof. Respite from the sun was pleasant, and soon mats and pillows were brought for us to sit on. Shortly after a woman arrived and began preparing ice cold milk with sugar, a tasty treat during the heat of the day. I tried to keep up with the various languages being spoken before me, but before long my only concern was a bowl of rice and meat placed in front of me. This was no ordinary bowl but a heaping mixing bowl of rice, meat, and onions presented exclusively to me. I dug in and enjoyed the savory mixture before I had eaten to my content. Not 10 minutes passed before a shallower, wider platter of even more rice and meat was presented to our group. I was invited to join in for another meal. After insisting that my stomach was indeed full the plate was taken away and a young man with a tea kettle and glasses came. To my surprise he greeted me in English and I was able to converse with him. He is currently completing a master’s degree in English studies. I enjoyed two cups of tea – the first one bitter and the second sweeter before we returned home.
I recently visited a hardware store up the street with my host father. It was fun to learn that the owner speaks English, and after greeting him he pegged me correctly as a Midwesterner. I found this so surprising in my new community and learned that he lived in the United States for a number of years, but likes the slow, free, uncrowded space in Linguère. Yesterday I passed he and his family sitting in front of the store. He introduced me and insisted I join them for lunch – this week! I cannot wait for further conversation.
These few events I have described are very reflective of my experience thus far living in Senegal.
As I learn more about the history of West Africa and reflect on the awful parts of the country’s history, the majority stem from white people arriving with a narrative centered on personal gain and inconsiderate of the local peoples. Colonialism is one such dark, disgraceful period in human history. The French developed much of Senegal through treaties exploiting the people and the resources here. Earlier in orientation our group spent a day at Gorée Island – a short boat ride from Dakar.
Here our group shared a wonderful meal and took in the historic buildings and ocean views before visiting the museum and slave house there. It was appalling to see the living conditions people were forced to accept before being separated from their families, and exiting the “door of no return” onto a boat destined for a life of subjugation to the will of others. While walking through the museum I read a display about the countries that played a role in the slave trade; I was shocked to see that the “peaceful” and “just” countries of Denmark and Sweden played a significant role in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, a part I thought only other European nations had taken. And despite these past violations of humanity I am still welcomed with open arms?
Here I find some dissonance with most media coverage during my last couple years of college in Fargo-Moorhead. There is a lengthy history present in Senegal that gives plenty of reason to not welcome others, yet conversation and hospitality are forthcoming. As refugees/immigrants of lands with languages and traditions distinct from the dominant European culture of Midwesterners arrived in need of shelter, they have largely been less than well-received. I can think of numerous letters to the editor that expressed unkind remarks. This is in addition to a state government in my home state of North Dakota that is more concerned with treating immigrants as security threats rather than people. Numerous instances come to mind where friends or neighbors expressed hate and fear over difference rather than curiosity about a new, unfamiliar way of life.
The hospitality I have received here in Senegal has been genuine and warm. When I tell my host mother (who is Muslim) I am going to church, she happily asks me to pray for her. She does not react with disdain or apathy.
Embracing the idea of Teranga in the world of today is an absolute necessity. We need more instances where hospitality and kindness are one’s first thoughts instead of “I don’t know you.”
[i] “The Concept of Teranga” – Diahate and Engelberg, Africa Consultants international
Kristian in Senegal 