"Go find out, among them, how one can conquer without being in the right." With these words, Samba Diallo, the main character of Cheikh Hamidou Kane's Ambiguous Adventure, leaves a life of the spirit in Senegal to pursue a life of the mind in Paris. The questions that Kane poses are important - How should one interact with a foreign power imposed on one's culture? Can one learn from the new culture without sacrificing the old?
My 11 year old brother Lamine is in the habit of showing me his school notebook from time to time. The teacher will write copious notes on the blackboard, which the students will copy word for word. This kind of rote learning came to West Africa grace a French colonization. One particular night I was reading Lamine's notes on the Berlin Conference, in which it was decided which European powers got what piece of Africa.
"Do you think this was a good thing?" I asked Lamine simply in French.
He thought for a minute, then clicked his tongue. "That's not in my notes."
"I know, but what do you think?"
After another long pause, "Sure. The Europeans brought civilization."
As I write this, I'm sipping an iced coffee in a cafe in Thies. Yes, the Europeans brought civilization - a very foreign one - to be superimposed over what was already here. What of Sundiata and the great Malian empire? Mansa Mussa and his golden trek to Mecca? Or even more recent heroes like Cheikh Amadou Bamba or Lat Dior. In the same town where I am enjoying my coffee, Lat Dior resisted the French rail system linking Dakar to St. Louis because he knew this would strengthen their hold on the country.
But let me bring this back to Lamine. One night, sitting under the stars with family (one of the rare moments we weren't watching tv) I posed a riddle -
"The rich need me,
The poor have me,
If you eat me, you'll die."
My host family thought and thought and finally, from under a blanket on a cot, Lamine popped out his head and answered, "Nothing."
At the end of Ambiguous Adventure, Samba Diallo returns to Senegal at his father's request. He comes home to find himself caught between two cultures - he is no longer the pious boy of his youth who would recite the Koran and pray five times a day, nor did he care for the Western culture which he found devoid of any soul. Kane resolves these questions by killing off Samba. But it is a finality filled with peace. The angel of death comforts him, "You are entering the place where there is no ambiguity." For Samba, as with many others, there is a surety in reciting the words of the Prophet, a surety in the ritual of prayer, a surety in religion. "Be attentive, for here, now, you are arriving."
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
Interview with a Former Talibe
The talibe are young boys in Senegal who are sent to study the Koran with a marabout. As a part of the process, they are sent out to the streets to beg for their daily sustenance. Many foreigners find themselves endlessly annoyed by these young boys asking for money or food. I sat down with a former talibe and current Peace Corps language teacher, Sahir, to learn about what his experience was like.
- How old were you when you became a talibe?
I was four years old when my parents decided to send me to study with a marabout. The marabout was my dad's cousin. When my dad presented me to him, he said to the marabout "I want his bones!" meaning that whatever happens, make sure I learn the Koran. I stayed with the marabout until I was 7, when my family decided to send me to French school. At the French school, I quickly became one of the best students because, as a talibe, we're taught to memorize the Koran. So later, in the French school, when the teacher would write the lesson on the blackboard, I would have it memorized as soon as he wrote it!
- What were some good and bad experiences you had as a talibe?
One of the best things about my experience is that I'm now able to adapt very easily to any situation. Also, I can speak to people very easily. The worst day I can remember is when the marabout beat my cousin for not memorizing his verses correctly. He beat him - right next to me - until he was bloody. I went home and told my dad about it, but my dad said it was just normal.
- What was a typical day like?
We would get up at 5 to pray. From 6-7:30 we would study the Koran by lamplight. Those marabouts that didn't have electricity would teach the Koran around a big fire in the forest. At 7:30 we would go out on the streets to beg for our breakfast. Sometimes people would give us sugar or uncooked rice and unfortunately the marabout didn't always pay attention to what we had eaten. Although I almost always was able to find food to eat. Some marabouts make their talibe bring them money. If the talibe were able to get extra money, they'd hide it maybe with a shopkeeper and get it later. But my marabout never asked for money. Anyway, we'd go back to my marabout's house to study the Koran some more until lunch around 3:30. The marabout's family would often cook for us, so we'd go out and find firewood for the cooking. There was a hierarchy among the talibe - the oldest boys would help us cross the road and make sure we divvied the food up evenly.
- What was your marabout like?
He was really nice, very open-minded because he was well-traveled. When he would travel, though, it was bad because then we were in the care of the older boys. But when the marabout went to Mecca (he went a few times), he would always come back with lots of gifts for us.
- What did you learn from your marabout?
There are different levels that talibe go through. First you become alphabetized (learn to read), then you read the Koran. After we read it, we memorize the Koran. I can still recite the whole Koran in Arabic. Well, sometimes I forget a line or two. The next level is to translate the Koran into your local language (in Sahir's case, Pulaar). I never got to this level, though, because that's when I started French school. Once you master the Koran, the next level is to study shariah (Islamic law), then finally you get to the level of making gris-gris (leather pouches that have a Koranic sura sewn inside and worn for protection).
- What advice do you have for foreigners who find the talibe to be a nuisance?
Be careful - saying the talibe are bad is like saying Islam is bad! People need to remember that if the situation is bad, kids are the victim. There are two solutions I know of for the "talibe issue." The first solution is to have private Islamic schools where the parents pay for the child's food and supplies. But this requires the parents to have money! The second solution is 1 family, 1 talibe where each family in the community assumes responsibility for one talibe. My children are not talibe, but there's a little boy that comes by my house everyday for meals that we support.
- What would you like for people to know about your experience as a talibe?
Everyday I say thanks to my parents for making me do it. Learning the Koran is not easy - being a talibe is hard! Begging for food is tough, but it taught me humility and I really appreciate that time in my life. Having been a talibe is a real source of pride for me!
- How old were you when you became a talibe?
I was four years old when my parents decided to send me to study with a marabout. The marabout was my dad's cousin. When my dad presented me to him, he said to the marabout "I want his bones!" meaning that whatever happens, make sure I learn the Koran. I stayed with the marabout until I was 7, when my family decided to send me to French school. At the French school, I quickly became one of the best students because, as a talibe, we're taught to memorize the Koran. So later, in the French school, when the teacher would write the lesson on the blackboard, I would have it memorized as soon as he wrote it!
- What were some good and bad experiences you had as a talibe?
One of the best things about my experience is that I'm now able to adapt very easily to any situation. Also, I can speak to people very easily. The worst day I can remember is when the marabout beat my cousin for not memorizing his verses correctly. He beat him - right next to me - until he was bloody. I went home and told my dad about it, but my dad said it was just normal.
- What was a typical day like?
We would get up at 5 to pray. From 6-7:30 we would study the Koran by lamplight. Those marabouts that didn't have electricity would teach the Koran around a big fire in the forest. At 7:30 we would go out on the streets to beg for our breakfast. Sometimes people would give us sugar or uncooked rice and unfortunately the marabout didn't always pay attention to what we had eaten. Although I almost always was able to find food to eat. Some marabouts make their talibe bring them money. If the talibe were able to get extra money, they'd hide it maybe with a shopkeeper and get it later. But my marabout never asked for money. Anyway, we'd go back to my marabout's house to study the Koran some more until lunch around 3:30. The marabout's family would often cook for us, so we'd go out and find firewood for the cooking. There was a hierarchy among the talibe - the oldest boys would help us cross the road and make sure we divvied the food up evenly.
- What was your marabout like?
He was really nice, very open-minded because he was well-traveled. When he would travel, though, it was bad because then we were in the care of the older boys. But when the marabout went to Mecca (he went a few times), he would always come back with lots of gifts for us.
- What did you learn from your marabout?
There are different levels that talibe go through. First you become alphabetized (learn to read), then you read the Koran. After we read it, we memorize the Koran. I can still recite the whole Koran in Arabic. Well, sometimes I forget a line or two. The next level is to translate the Koran into your local language (in Sahir's case, Pulaar). I never got to this level, though, because that's when I started French school. Once you master the Koran, the next level is to study shariah (Islamic law), then finally you get to the level of making gris-gris (leather pouches that have a Koranic sura sewn inside and worn for protection).
- What advice do you have for foreigners who find the talibe to be a nuisance?
Be careful - saying the talibe are bad is like saying Islam is bad! People need to remember that if the situation is bad, kids are the victim. There are two solutions I know of for the "talibe issue." The first solution is to have private Islamic schools where the parents pay for the child's food and supplies. But this requires the parents to have money! The second solution is 1 family, 1 talibe where each family in the community assumes responsibility for one talibe. My children are not talibe, but there's a little boy that comes by my house everyday for meals that we support.
- What would you like for people to know about your experience as a talibe?
Everyday I say thanks to my parents for making me do it. Learning the Koran is not easy - being a talibe is hard! Begging for food is tough, but it taught me humility and I really appreciate that time in my life. Having been a talibe is a real source of pride for me!
Monday, April 23, 2012
Site Visit
Diakhaba ngo lu si konton!
The people of Diakhaba greet you!
Diakhaba (pron. "Ja-ha-ba") is where I'll be spending the next two
years. It's a village of 2000 right on the main road exactly between
Kedougou and Saraya (you should be able to find these two towns on the
map - Saraya is the last outpost before you get to Mali). On one side
of Diakhaba live the Jaxanke people, and on the other side live the
Malinke. I'm actually living on the Malinke side (the poor side of
town). The difference between Malinke and Jaxanke is like American vs.
British English. I will be living with the chief whose name is Sinna
Danfakha. This makes me a Danfakha. You may remember from my first
email that Danfakha means "buffalo killer." (This is my language
teacher's last name.) The men killed all the buffalo and gave them to
the women to cook, but the women ate it all. So the men in the family
are called Danfakha - buffalo killer - and the women are called Damba
- buffalo eater. So my new name is Fatumata Damba (much easier than
Niakhalin!).
My compound spans the generations - the chief and his wives, many
kids, a brother and his family, and a blind grandmother who sits in
the corner and yells proverbs. One of the wives is my toxoma, or
namesake. I was named after her and she has a special responsibility
to ensure my well-being. My family began constructing me a new hut in
the compound but Peace Corps came by and said it was too close to the
outer fence, so they are giving me a hut that's already built. It's
yellow and round with a straw roof. I have my own backyard and
latrine.
The health post where I'll be working is a 10 minute walk down the
street. The head guy there - Diata, whose name means king - is one of
my counterparts, or people I'll be working closely with. He has a
triangular beard, two adorable little kids and one wife (in his words,
two wives equals two problems). He is also among an elite and very
small group of people in my village that speaks French. The closest
volunteers to me are 30km away in the town of Saraya. This is a big
town (i.e. they just built a new hospital, there is a radio station,
and a really great bean sandwich lady) and is easily bike-able from
where I live.
I spent the duration of my volunteer visit ("demystification")
visiting as many families in Diakhaba as possible. It can't be
stressed enough how important greetings are. Let me give you an
example:
Peace is with you?
Peace only!
What's your last name?
Damba.
Damba! Damba!
And yours?
Diakhaby.
Diakhaby! Diakhaby!
How are you?
I'm here only. How's your family?
They are there only.
What's sweet?
Nothing but God. Did you sleep well?
Yes I slept well. You and the day?
Peace only. How are the people where you are from?
Peace only. The people where I'm from greet you.
Peace.
Everybody greets you.
Peace. My family greets you.
Peace.
Okay. Diakhaby. Diakhaby.
Damba. Damba.
And this is the short version!
There were two moments when I wanted to cry during my volunteer visit.
The first was when the Peace Corps Land Cruiser dropped me off at my
village and pulled away with all my friends in it and I thought to
myself "Don't leave me!" as I turned to see all the children lined up
to meet their new toubab.
The second time I wanted to cry was a few days later when it was time
for me to bike to Saraya (not to return until mid-May, when I move
there permanently). My new family strapped my belongings to my bike
and everybody walked me down to the main road, clapping and waving the
whole way.
All in all, it was a great visit. Not everybody's visit went so well.
On of the Peace Corps Trainees woke up in his hut from a nap to see a
python crawling around in the roof. He yelled for his host brother who
came in with a machete and chopped its head off. Python blood sprayed
everywhere - the walls, family photos, everywhere!
One other bit of excitement happened during a potty break on the long
10 hour ride back to Thies. There's a national park in Kedougou. We
stopped at the guard hut and were immediately surrounded by dozens of
monkeys and a warthog! I had given our very patient driver (imagine 10
hours of toubabs singing show tunes in your backseat) Idrissa a bag of
kola nuts as a gift and one of the monkeys came into the car and stole
the whole bag! But don't worry, Idrissa chased the monkey down and got
his kola nuts back. In this same park are also baboons, lions, and
hippos!
The people of Diakhaba greet you!
Diakhaba (pron. "Ja-ha-ba") is where I'll be spending the next two
years. It's a village of 2000 right on the main road exactly between
Kedougou and Saraya (you should be able to find these two towns on the
map - Saraya is the last outpost before you get to Mali). On one side
of Diakhaba live the Jaxanke people, and on the other side live the
Malinke. I'm actually living on the Malinke side (the poor side of
town). The difference between Malinke and Jaxanke is like American vs.
British English. I will be living with the chief whose name is Sinna
Danfakha. This makes me a Danfakha. You may remember from my first
email that Danfakha means "buffalo killer." (This is my language
teacher's last name.) The men killed all the buffalo and gave them to
the women to cook, but the women ate it all. So the men in the family
are called Danfakha - buffalo killer - and the women are called Damba
- buffalo eater. So my new name is Fatumata Damba (much easier than
Niakhalin!).
My compound spans the generations - the chief and his wives, many
kids, a brother and his family, and a blind grandmother who sits in
the corner and yells proverbs. One of the wives is my toxoma, or
namesake. I was named after her and she has a special responsibility
to ensure my well-being. My family began constructing me a new hut in
the compound but Peace Corps came by and said it was too close to the
outer fence, so they are giving me a hut that's already built. It's
yellow and round with a straw roof. I have my own backyard and
latrine.
The health post where I'll be working is a 10 minute walk down the
street. The head guy there - Diata, whose name means king - is one of
my counterparts, or people I'll be working closely with. He has a
triangular beard, two adorable little kids and one wife (in his words,
two wives equals two problems). He is also among an elite and very
small group of people in my village that speaks French. The closest
volunteers to me are 30km away in the town of Saraya. This is a big
town (i.e. they just built a new hospital, there is a radio station,
and a really great bean sandwich lady) and is easily bike-able from
where I live.
I spent the duration of my volunteer visit ("demystification")
visiting as many families in Diakhaba as possible. It can't be
stressed enough how important greetings are. Let me give you an
example:
Peace is with you?
Peace only!
What's your last name?
Damba.
Damba! Damba!
And yours?
Diakhaby.
Diakhaby! Diakhaby!
How are you?
I'm here only. How's your family?
They are there only.
What's sweet?
Nothing but God. Did you sleep well?
Yes I slept well. You and the day?
Peace only. How are the people where you are from?
Peace only. The people where I'm from greet you.
Peace.
Everybody greets you.
Peace. My family greets you.
Peace.
Okay. Diakhaby. Diakhaby.
Damba. Damba.
And this is the short version!
There were two moments when I wanted to cry during my volunteer visit.
The first was when the Peace Corps Land Cruiser dropped me off at my
village and pulled away with all my friends in it and I thought to
myself "Don't leave me!" as I turned to see all the children lined up
to meet their new toubab.
The second time I wanted to cry was a few days later when it was time
for me to bike to Saraya (not to return until mid-May, when I move
there permanently). My new family strapped my belongings to my bike
and everybody walked me down to the main road, clapping and waving the
whole way.
All in all, it was a great visit. Not everybody's visit went so well.
On of the Peace Corps Trainees woke up in his hut from a nap to see a
python crawling around in the roof. He yelled for his host brother who
came in with a machete and chopped its head off. Python blood sprayed
everywhere - the walls, family photos, everywhere!
One other bit of excitement happened during a potty break on the long
10 hour ride back to Thies. There's a national park in Kedougou. We
stopped at the guard hut and were immediately surrounded by dozens of
monkeys and a warthog! I had given our very patient driver (imagine 10
hours of toubabs singing show tunes in your backseat) Idrissa a bag of
kola nuts as a gift and one of the monkeys came into the car and stole
the whole bag! But don't worry, Idrissa chased the monkey down and got
his kola nuts back. In this same park are also baboons, lions, and
hippos!
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