This is a tirailleur senegalais. Or at least one advertiser's version of one. (The caption translates roughly as "it be good, Banania." Thank God we're past such blatant racism in advertising. Er, unless you go down the maple syrup aisle in any American grocery store.)
The tirailleurs senegalais were West Africans who served in the French Colonial Army. They were by no means all Senegalese (despite the name), but interestingly enough, nearly 2/3 of the African recruits were Bambara speakers, to the point that Bambara became the colonial army's vernacular language. The tirailleurs senegalais were involved in everything from world wars to the Suez Crisis. Despite their heavy involvement in France's dalliances around the world, the tirailleurs weren't always viewed with respect; hence the Banania ads, which led Senghor to pen the lines:
"You are not poor men, with nothing in your pockets, without honor.//I will tear down the banania smiles from every wall in France."
Senghor, who called the tirailleurs France's "black watchdogs of empire," was by no means against military service, but spoke out against the way African troops were treated. Later, when Senegal became independent, Senghor made military conscription obligatory, which is how Sara Kote, a 21 year old villager from Senegal, ended up in the Congo as one of Lumumba's security guards.
Sara Kote is no longer a strapping 21 year old lad. He's old. And forgetful. So when he agreed to let me interview him for the radio, he forgot, and continued to forget occasionally during the course of the interview, stopping me every few minutes to ask how I knew he had been in the Congo. He also forgot that I had brought him kola nuts as a gift, and several times asked for more. Convenient. Nonetheless, what follows are a few of Sara Kote's memories with the Senegalese military.
I left in April of 1960. That was the date of our independence. There were two warring parties in the Congo, and Lumumba invited us to protect him. I was six months there. There were 60 of us between two planes. My plane was called Globe Master and I'm happy to say that all the people in my plane made it back alive. It took us 32 hours to fly from Dakar to Leopoldville.
Why would you ask if I wanted to go? What a silly question - it was obligatory! Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone. I'm not sure who told you that Bambaras (i.e. Malinkes) made good soldiers, but maybe it's because of the gris-gris we had to protect us. I had a gris-gris I wore to keep me safe from any weapons, so I was never injured or even sick. Also, Senghor said of us Bambaras that we would prefer death to shame. Does that answer your question?
While in the Congo, we were assured of food and medical care. Then, back in Senegal, I continued to receive 150 francs a month (about $27). When I left the Senegalese military, I became a literacy teacher. Do I have any souvenirs from my military days? I received a medal, but I'm not sure where I put it.
Oh, you want to know about the Congolese? They're like savages, even the military; they're not assimilated to civilization (I should mention the views expressed here are NOT the author's). They don't even wear pants, just pagnes!
(The interviewee then breaks into a Swahili song he learned while in the Congo. In the meantime, his wife is behind him, on the floor, laughing.) Sure I remember some Swahili. If I say 'koyinda wape' that means 'where are you going?' 'Bibi' is the word for 'girls'.
(Looks off into the distance, lost in thought, then turns to me suspiciously.) How did you know I was in the Congo?
("Yes, Lord, forgive France, who treats her Senegalese like hired hands, making them the black dogs of her empire." - Senghor)
