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]
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.”
Kristian in Senegal 