“At the turn of the century, less
than half of Senegal's population was Muslim. Today more than 90% of
the population embrace Islam.”
At the most recent count, this is now
94%. Currently reading Senegal: An African Nation Between Islam
and the West by Sheldon Gellar.
It was the only book I was able to source before getting here and
published in 1982, it is very much dated in how it looks at Senegal,
taking a very Cold-War geopolitical approach of West vs Communism,
making constant note of Senegal's rather midway Socialism. Indeed,
the style of the analysis is rather pase these days, but still offers
a very interesting look at Senegal, and as with most books about the
country are written in French, there is limited information available
in English, for any era.
From
it I have learnt that Thies' (the city in which I live) University
was built and initially staffed by Canada, which helps explain the
Quebec flags flying at the entrance. Also that by the mid-80's a
proposed bridge across the Gambia will be built, which as I found out
last week, certainly never happened. It also says that 2/3rds of
Christians live in towns, and that seems to have continued today,
with most of the Christian population being limited to two tribes,
based in Dakar, Thies and Ziguinchor. It also lists the city of Touba
as having less than 25,000 population, and as the current 2nd
biggest city in Senegal, with over 1million people, its rapid rise in
size and importance is nothing short of amazing. So of course I had
to visit the place. Expressly forbidden from doing so by the ICS
co-ordinator, for no better reason than it is “full of Muslims and
unsafe”, I, along with Georges and one of my host-brothers went
along anyway, to brave the Mohammedeen masses and visit not only the
biggest mosque in West Africa, but also home to the most important
Sufi brotherhood in Senegal. Three hours away by Mouride (the Muslim
brotherhood) subsidised bus, it is a fascinating city. On the bus in,
the usual hawkers appear at every stop, normally flogging locally
grown peanuts, mangoes or water. This time, a guy got on selling
booklets on how to be a good Muslim, from the prayers and songs, to
how to wash and pray, which I guess means that not all of the
residents or visitors in town have long been practising Muslims!
Clearly newly built, the city radiates out from its most important
building, the grand mosque. Street lights, a frequent, new and
punctual city bus service, rubbish bins and relatively clean streets,
the city is a million miles away from much of the rest of Senegal, or
indeed west Africa. With smoking and drinking forbidden, and only
Qu'ranic schools permitted, the city is very much Muslim, but with
the Sufi school being very flexible in terms of dress, there is no
provision on head scarves etc, outside of mosques.
(Just what the place needs, more minarets)
The mosque in
question is huge, with the current five minarets having two more
brothers (sisters?) added. The building itself is nothing special
architecturally, with the body of the founder of the Mouride
brotherhood lying in state in the centre (and about the only factor
marking this as a Sufi, rather than Sunni or Shia mosque). The
current subtle and rather tasteful Moroccan tiling which decorates
the prayer areas, along with the minarets, and I think the floor, is
in the process of being covered in white marble, all the way from
Italy. It will have the unfortunate effect of making the whole place
look like simply another ostentatious 'nouveaux' mosque in the
oil-states mould. The annoying, and unshakeable 'tour-guides' aside,
it was nice to visit at least, and the calm was welcome, before
braving the chaos of the market. With Touba being run effectively as
a semi-automous region, with the head Cheich holding powers over tax,
employment, and who the million plus followers vote for in national
elections, it really does feel like a different place, and the market
highlights this. Mouride traders are (in)famous throughout Senegal
and France - where many now reside, selling crap to tourists under
the Eiffel Tower – for their ability to sell sand to the Moors, and
our twenty minute foray, mainly just to see the place, proved this to
be true. Within seconds, we had an entourage, offering to
find/sell/buy anything and everything under the sun, some with very
good English, and all totally unresponsive to calls to bugger off.
Needless to say I didn't buy anything, as the whole experience was
unnecessarily stressful – sometimes the bland and thoroughly bored
customer service back home is very appealing.
Touba is also
famous in Senegal for its titular coffee, with cafe Touba making a
nice change from the Nescafe I get for breakfast. With the coffee
beans roasted alongside peppercorns, there is a subtle spice to the
brew, which, alongside a liberal helping of sugar, makes a really
rather nice drink. Served, seemingly exclusively in small plastic
cups, it is by now means posh, but for 12p a shot, doesn't break the
bank, and with slightly less sugar used than normally, and maybe a
touch stronger, the cafe Touba in Touba actually does taste better!
(Which is more than can be said for the Chicken Kievs in Kiev)
The bus ride home was hilarious. A
deodorant (and toothpaste) seller got on, and sacrificed a can to the
bus, so everyone could get a smell, and subsequently apply some as
needed. After only selling 2 cans, I can't help but think he needs to
change the model. He managed to speak for five minutes about the
virtues of the stuff, and Georges and I had fun imagining what he was
saying, as it was all in wolof. With all our smiles and giggles, he
took it to mean we liked the stuff, and announced in French to the
whole bus that “the toubabs (foreigners) like it!” Smiles and
laughs all round. Someone got on with two chickens, I was hit in the
head by a falling bag, a normal journey really.
I had a much needed
haircut tonight, as it was getting a little crazy, although my lack
of French really influenced the result, as I am now the proud owner
of a totally shaved head, the shortest it has ever been! Sorry mum.
What was very strange though, and highlights the still strong
animalist religious beliefs that pervade all aspects of life here,
was that my hair was collected in a bag and given to me, to avoid
other people using it to make charms or spells against myself or the
village. First time I have been given my own hair after a hair cut,
and at first I assumed it was for the compost or the pigs and made a
joke about voodoo, before being given the above answer totally
seriously.
Sunday saw me at
church, rounding out a very religious weekend. There is a Benedictine
monastery about thirty minutes from Thies, famous for its goats
cheese, and singing and chanting in the local wolof language. The
music really was beautiful, with a traditional harp-like instrument
and drum accompanying much of the songs, and the chanting indeed
being lovely. Large murals, in a 1960's African style, of key scenes
from the bible offered a strangely modern backdrop to twenty men in
robes, but I thought they were beautiful, and Richard, your promised
postcard (I sent one from Sierra Leone, honest-injun) features one.
Alas, the goats cheese is only available after the rainy season is
solidly underway, and being over a month late this year, I was out of
luck on that front, although I was able to buy some local fruit jam
to supplement my chocolate spread on bread breakfast.
Next stop, Lac
Rose, the former finish spot for the Paris-Dakar rally, and somewhere
solidly on the 'tourist day trip agenda from Dakar', with bus loads
of grey haired French people keeping the tourist shops and
restaurants which blight the waterfront, unfortunately in business.
With the lake being decidedly only pink-ish (it depends on the light
apparently), we trooped off to the beach, over huge forested sand
dunes, and were greeted with golden, rubbish free and relatively
empty beach stretching along the coast. The water was lovely and
warm, and the waves big enough to actually body-surf, but my gosh was
the undercurrent strong, and even treading water one would be sucked
out to sea very quickly. Not a spot for weak swimmers, but immense
fun while my energy lasted!
Other random
thoughts that have come to me this week:
With
the three month summer holiday from school and university being
solidly underway, football seems to be the activity of choice for
Senegal's males. Organised training, alongside pick-up matches take
priority of the school pitch near my house, and it certainly isn't
for lack of practice that Senegal is only ranked 62nd
in the world right not!
If anyone remembers the video I
uploaded of sand sand and more sand on the journey to Saint Louis,
the rainy season has absolutely transformed the country, in the space
of two weeks. Grass and clover now cover everywhere, and what had
before seemed like useless desert, is now being farmed. I have had to
adapt my running route to now avoid people's farms, crazy.
Yet another drive along the motorway,
and the endless stalls of mangoes and peanuts, all staffed by the
lady of whichever house grew the product, and I can't help but think
that a locally organised co-operative system would work wonders for
the rural economy. With all the products being exactly the same, and
priced the same, it would be easy enough for a rota to be made, and
one lady each day to man the stall, thus freeing up huge amounts of
female-power to be used in an infinite number of ways (but
realistically here, in the home, looking after kids, and cooking and
cleaning). The current system is such a waste of labour, it is
amazing nothing has been done to change things.
My initial joy at the food here has
been tempered somewhat, largely by the dinners at home. A large bowl
of carbohydrate (pasta, rice, couscous), with meat on top, and bread
on the side, it is remarkably similar to the food in Kazakhstan,
thankfully with less oil. Pork is held as an elicit pleasure by the
Christians here, talked about in whispered tones. Vegetables are a
garnish, and I haven't had one for dinner in a week. As in
Kazakhstan, it is such a shame, as vegetables are everywhere, and
very tasty, yet carbohydrates offer quick and cheap options, and meat
is again held in the highest regard.
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