In Conversation: The Director of The Museum of Black Civilizations

In his novel Foreign Gods, Inc., critically acclaimed Nigerian novelist, Okey Ndibe, tells the story of Ike, a New York-based Nigerian cab driver who sets out to steal the statue of an ancient war deity from his home village and sell it to a New York gallery. Driven to this point of desperation by a series of unfortunate events in his life as a migrant, Ike hatches a plan to steal this statue that, in modern times, he believes, means little to his people—but one that could fetch him a pretty penny if it gets into the hands of collectors in the West.

I could not help but contrast this image with that of me walking into the new Museum of Black Civilizations in Dakar, flanked by busloads of Senegalese school children eager and excited to see artifacts from around their continent, in their own continent. The fact that African art did not have to leave the continent to be valued is perhaps the most vital aspect of this fabulous new museum.

The museum draws its architectural inspiration from the inner atriums of the homes in the Casamance region in the South of Senegal and the Great Zimbabwe. These houses consist of rooms built in a circle with a round and empty patio in the middle that is used for catching rainwater. This design creates a tunnel of light reaching the center of the building. In the center of the museum is a 40 feet tall steel baobab tree sculpture by Haitian artist, Edouard Duval-Carrié. Inside, the museum is broken down into four sections: The Cradle of Humanity, Continental African Civilizations, Globalization of Africa and Africa Now.

I meet Hamady Bocoum, the museum's director, in his office. He's a seasoned archeologist, researcher and erstwhile Director of the African Institute of Basic Research in Dakar and who speaks passionately about the issues. The work behind the museum, he tells me, began in the 1960s at the encouragement of Senegalese president, Léopold Sédar Senghor—in 2015 the plan was revived and it opened last year with the mandate of being for all people of African origin worldwide.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity

You've said that in the creation of the museum you found it easier to articulate what it shouldn't be rather than what it should be. What is the museum not?

Some of the things we agreed on is firstly, that this would not be a museum on ethnology. Ethnology to us is about westerners looking at Africans—for example, the Masai people are a nomadic… the Hausa are…—rather than us looking at ourselves. The second thing was that this museum would not be an anthropological one. This is because anthropology is what was used to rationalize the concept of race—a concept that has had devastating effects for those outside the power structures, especially black people. Anthropology allowed the enslavement of black people to be legitimized. The third thing we agreed on was that this would not be a subaltern museum.

Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, an Indian scholar, literary theorist, and feminist critic describes subaltern in the postcolonial context as follows: "Western intellectuals relegate other, non-Western (African, Asian, Middle Eastern) forms of "knowing", of acquiring knowledge of the world, to the margins of intellectual discourse, by re-formulating these forms of knowing as myth and as folklore. To be heard and known, the subaltern must adopt Western ways of knowing, of thought, reasoning, and language."]

Our determination to not be a subaltern museum was the reason we did not model the museum on any museums such as the Louvre, Musée d'Orsay or other well known museums. We wanted the museum not to be held to western standards in terms of how it should look. Our museum would traverse the whole story from the origin of mankind to contemporary times.

The overarching sentiment was that the story of black civilizations is a story of humanity. The Manden Charter of the Mandingo people of West Africa was created in the 13th century making it one of the oldest constitutions in the world—albeit oral. It has its first law as "All life is equal." Africans never placed people above animals, trees, lakes or forests. In Africa, when we prayed or ask for forgiveness before killing an animal for food, we did not do this out of superstition. We did it because of our view on humanity.

Africa was the locomotive of human civilization for over 7 million years ago. Colonization was around 550 years of that time period. We want the museum to be representative of African history in its entirety.

What's your favourite story behind how artifacts came to your museum?

When the British destroyed Benin city in 1897 they stole all the masks of the Oba People.These are on display in the British museum. What they didn't know was that there were two copies of each of the masks. The others were with the queen mother who lived outside of Benin City. When she heard that her son, the Oba (King) had been imprisoned, she hid all these masks. We have her collection here on display. They have been available for display in different parts of the world. They recently came from Miami and we will be sending them back shortly to Nigeria.

To read my full interview on Okayafrica, click here.

Dakar’s Museum of Black Civilizations is a vital step for a people reclaiming their history

The recent release of the groundbreaking study by Senegalese economist Felwine Sarr and French historian Bénédicte Savoy calling for the restitution of Africa’s looted assets has sparked debates from the art historians of Paris and London to the museums and cultural centers of Africa’s major cities.

With over 90,000 African artifacts in French museums and thousands more spread throughout different museums in Europe, the debate rages on about whether Africa should be “loaned” back her looted assets and whether we have the ability or interest to safeguard our treasures. This is why the recent opening of the Museum of Black Civilizations in Dakar could not have been more timely.

The massive 14,000 square meters complex has four floors that draw its architectural inspiration from the inner atriums of the homes in the Casamance region in the south of Senegal and from the Great Zimbabwe kingdom. The first thing the viewer is confronted with is the huge baobab sculpture by Haitian sculptor Edouard Duval-Carrié in the middle of the museum. The beloved tree of life is of great cultural, spiritual and historical significance in Senegal with some of the trees being between 1,000 – 2,500 years old and having more than 300 uses.

The museum hopes to represent all black civilizations, but the fact that it is based in Dakar is not mere coincidence. Art lives and breathes in Dakar. With its founding father and the brain-child behind this grand museum – Léopold Sédar Senghor – having been a poet, cultural theorist and leading pan-Africanist thinker, it makes sense that Dakar would be the home of this museum.  The literary movement of negritude—a framework of critique and literary theory was developed mainly by Francophone intellectuals, writers, and politicians of the African diaspora during the 1930s. Key among its founders were Senghor, Martinican poet Aimé Césaire and Léon Damas of French Guyana. As such, Dakar is very well-suited to be the continental home of this movement.

Follow the link to read my full article on Quartz.

African women in the workplace

When Anta Babacar Ngom Bathily was appointed to be the new director-general of Senegal’s leading poultry company, she was hesitant at first. “I asked myself, why me?” she says. Even though she had risen through the firm by virtue of her hard work, dedication and an intricate knowledge of the sector, she had doubts as a young woman in a male-dominated field.

Bathily’s experience is not uncommon amongst female leaders. While almost everyone suffers from impostor syndrome to some extent, its effects tend to be more strongly felt by women. An often-quoted figure is that men will apply for a job if they meet 60% of the criteria, but women apply only if they meet 100% of them.

It is easy to say that women simply need to gain in confidence, but the reality is that women are not treated equally.  In a recent study in the US, researchers found that male and female entrepreneurs were asked different kinds of questions when applying for investment. Two-thirds of questions asked to men were about potential gains and plans for success; two-thirds of questions asked to women were about risks and testing whether they had “done their homework”.

This reveals an implicit belief that women cannot lead or must at least be held to much higher standards. It was this conditioning that prompted Bathily’s self-doubt. According to her, it took a real mental effort to shift from thinking “Why me?” to “Why not me?”

“Yes, I am young, a woman, black, African,” she says. “But I have every right to lead as much as anyone else.”

Hurdles and ceilings

The hurdles for women advancing up an organisation are many and well-documented. At the recruitment level, women are frequently passed over in favour of men with the same or lower qualifications. They earn less for doing the same job, get promoted less often, are given less credit for their work, and are awarded fewer second chances than their male colleagues. Furthermore, women who are not appropriately demure or self-effacing are often considered “unfeminine” or aggressive.

Creating an un-level playing field is not just bad for women. A 2007 study of 520 companies found that firms with the highest proportion of female board members far outperformed those with the lowest. The quarter of companies with the best female representation on their boards generated a 42% higher return on sales, 53% higher return on equity, and 66% higher return on invested capital than those with the poorest representation of women.

Correlation does not mean causation, but companies with more female decision-makers are likely to have more inclusive workplace cultures, policies, and programmes to support meritocratic employee advancement. Having more female representation also attracts more qualified women by demonstrating that the company is a place where their ambitions are rewarded. All this in turn has an effect on the bottom line.

To read the full article please click the link to access African Arguments

The story of portraiture and photography in Saint-Louis, Senegal

There has been increasing interest to unearth and understand Africa’s photographic history in recent years. Whether this is driven by the growing treasure trove of black and white images from the continent resurfacing; a need to dispel myths about what Africa is and is not; or a growing interest in photography for storytelling purposes in the Instagram-obsessed age, this journey promises to be an interesting one.

The latest treasure to be revealed on that journey is the Saint-Louis Photography Museum in Saint-Louis, Senegal, which opened last November. The museum hopes to eventually build an extensive collection of historic portraits, but has started off with the impressive personal collection of its founder, Amadou Diaw, a Senegalese businessman and founder of Groupe ISM, one of the region’s most respected business schools. The striking collection, mostly dating from 1930 to 1950, highlights the country’s rich and deep photography tradition.

Many of the most well-known photographs from West Africa were captured by Malick Sidibe, an internationally renowned photographer from Mali who captured iconic black and white images of the region in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. Sidibe died in April 2016. But the history of photography in West Africa stretches further back. It begins in the coastal town of Saint-Louis in the north of Senegal, where a photo camera, believed to be the first to be used in West Africa (link in French), was sent by the French Minister of Marine and Colonies in 1863.

Saint-Louis was a leading urban center established by French traders in the 17th century. To maintain their stronghold, French colonists relied heavily on the establishment of a metis (mixed race) society. This society was born out of a union of French traders or soldiers (who usually had their own families in France) marrying local women (usually of a high class) to further their business interests. These women and their female descendants, known locally as the Signares, are an important part of Saint-Louis’ culture and history.

To read the full article, please follow this link to Quartz. 

How do you say "facial paralysis" in French?

[Flashback from September 2016]

Today I am smiling....cause I physically can. It's so exciting. It's the little things in life that actually mean the most. Over 2 weeks ago I was diagnosed with a rare but treatable nerve condition that results in facial paralysis "Paralysie faciale a frigore"/"Bell's Palsy." It's been a trip but I am filled with so much gratitude at the moment that I am recovering well.

It all began with what I thought was an earache, then tonsillitis. After taking some antibiotics that are quite similar to penicillin my face started to swell - like Will Smith in Hitch. I called a doctor and was put on treatment for the tonsillitis. He expected the swelling to go down on it's own. 2 days later there was no progress - the doctor came to see me. That's when he had me attempt to do simple actions such as "Close your eye", "Smile"etc- and that's when I realized that even though the message in my brain was saying "close your eye", "smile" etc, nothing was moving on half of my face. Half of my face was completely paralyzed. Of course all this was happening in French. So when he diagnosed me with "Paralysie faciale a frigore" I thought to myself I had had a stroke - cause that's what I looked like. A person with a stroke -drooping face, no control of facial nerves and muscles etc. He saw the look on my face and told me not to worry. It's treatable and will go in a few weeks....A few weeks??? How am I to function without half of my face working?

I had to google what I had in English. Of course it was scary finding Palsy in the English name of this condition. I thought to myself "Palsy" - that must have something to do with my brain. I haven't yet finished book 2 - I think I need my brain to be fully functional to do this. I was worried.

I went to see a neurologist and the diagnosis was confirmed. It gave me some peace of mind because the neurologist confirmed that with immediate treatment, I could be fully functional in 3 weeks. Thus began my daily injections (on my butt en plus,) daily physiotherapy sessions with electroshock therapy to my facial nerves and a whole lot of meds.

I would describe myself as a light to moderate night-time drooler in general - though maybe Wakonyo Kimeria, Hajila Koitoto Kimeria and Phoebe Makhulo might beg to differ. The first few days of Bell's Palsy - I turned into a drool monster. When you can't control half your face, you can't open or close your mouth - or prevent drool from dripping. Eating was an activity I could only undertake in private - it made me remember the difference between the german words "Essen" for when humans eat and "Fressen" for when animals eat. It was not pretty.

One eye couldn't close - ever. You know what is more creepy (or more romantic depending on the setting) than finding someone watching you sleep? Waking up to find yourself watching you sleep- now that is material for a horror movie right there....I would manually close the eye using my fingers then wake up again a few hours later to find my eye wide open.

Smiling - I smiled like the joker. My mouth would completely go to one side.

Brushing my teeth -the bathroom floor would become a swimming pool.

So many moments during the past few weeks made me laugh. Sometimes you have to laugh - cause things can always be worse....and I always believe that having a positive attitude about things never hurts. Of course thinking positive will not fix everything, but negativity is definitely not your friend..

That day when I urgently needed to get to my neurologist appointment and I told the cab guy to take me to "Clinique du cap" but because my speech was affected by the palsy, I could only say "Clinique du caf"....He pretended he knew where that was. Halfway there, he asks for my phone (because he has no credit), but needs to call another driver for directions. He calls and asks for "Clinique to CAF" and i'm telling him "Not CAF", "CAP"...but of course I have no Ps.....so he says, "Yes, Clinique du CAF"....and I'm there in the backseat feeling like crying out of frustration...Like really.....The letters I had to lose with this issue were the ones needed to direct me to the hospital? We were late for my appointment - and I had to wait in the reception for 2 hours till the doc got back from his lunch break.

That moment I told Mou Na I was going on a tinder date and she was making fun of me, "Meme si tu es malade tu chasse toujours des hommes Senegalais"/"Even when you are sick, you are hunting after our Senegalese men"....and I wanted to tell her the hunting equivalent of "Mficha uchi hazai"/"One who hides their nakedness won't give birth" or "Mchaguo jembe si mkulima"/"He who chooses a hoe, is not the real farmer"/"You should work with what you have.....even if that's half a face............Yes. It was a good tinder date too.

Or the first day of physio when I was given a list with exercises I need to do daily and I could only recognize words such as nose, eyebrows, teeth etc....I learnt a lot of French that day ''Pucker your lips","Puff up your cheeks", "Frown", "Flare your nostrils" etc.

Or the evenings when I am doing my facial exercises (including blowing 30 kisses) and i'm sitting by the huge mirror next to the window....and the gardien is patrolling - likely wondering why I am blowing kisses.

Or the daily physio sessions where your face gets hooked to sensors - and you're feeling all G'd up like 50 cent in "Go go go shorty...It's your birthday"....Yeah...maybe it was his chest and in this case it's my face...small difference. So there I am like 50 hooked to the machine that literally shocks your facial nerves. In the beginning the sensation is exactly like when you were a dumb kid and you went sticking a fork or knife into a socket - only to be left on the floor having been pigwad a good shock. What were we even trying to plug in at that point? Not like we had phones or anything? It must have been something silly - that we were not even supposed to be using - iron box, kettle....Anyway yeah, so the machine shocks your facial nerves...It's a strange sensation at first, but after a few minutes I could not stop laughing..I think it somehow tickles your brain. I was telling myself "Shhhh Ciku. Now people in the hospital think you are OFFICIALLY mad."

Or my wonderful Cape Verdian physiotherapist - we would spend the session (in between shock treatment) discussing Cesaria Evora, Lura, Thiofs in Dakar etc. Amazing girl talk.

Or having to chew gum throughout - it helps..Feeling like such a naughty teenager. I don't know if there is a way to chew gum as an adult and not look frivolous.

I did that African thing where I didn't want to tell everyone I was unwell because things always sound much worse to family when they are far. Then my brother Tony Kimeria calls me last week and I knew I had been outed...Then he tells me my other brother William Kimeria had the same exact issue in 1998 but of course, he also never told my mum or the rest of the family because he didn't want to worry her. The weight of secrets:-) It was good though talking to my brother and hearing about his experience and his recovery. I had never ever heard of this condition till I got it...

I know you're wondering - did the thought that I had been jujud ever cross my mind? Of course - I would not be a real African if I did not give that some consideration. It has to cross your mind when you wake up and your mouth is completely facing one side....I had also been warned that West African juju is stronger than East African juju. I ruled it out though. I've not wronged anyone in Senegal for them to go and tell the jujuman to cast a spell on me.

I got so many lessons from this whole experience. I think one of the largest that I can apply to life is about self-improvement. We will never ever be perfect. Perfection doesn't exist - in anything we do in life, but what's important is continued improvement. I got this revelation as I sat by the mirror day in, day out doing my facial exercises. Day 1 of "raise eyebrows" - nothing happens. Day 7 - Nothing happens but there is some twitching....Day 12 - my eyebrow can move - all on it's own!! It was so exciting. If my eyebrows can do push-ups, I can freaking do push-ups too.Salma Ait Hssayene knows doing a full push-up has been one of my physical goals for 2016. If my eyebrow can do it, by hell I can do it too:-)

So what causes Bell's Palsy? It's completely random. When you have chicken pox, the virus remains latent on your nerve cells. In very rare instances - 0.025% chance - the virus can get reactivated leading to the swelling of the 7th cranial nerve close to the base of the ear - that then results in the nerve being blocked and the paralysis of facial activity - it usually affects half of your face.

Still on meds, treatment etc. for the rest of the week but I feel so brand new - and I am able to marvel at the little things....like closing my eye, raising my eyebrows, eating in public....and smiling.....

So today I am going to smile at everyone and at everything - mosquitoes, strangers, trees,my own reflection.....cause I can smile.

I fell off a horse today

[flashback from July 2016]

I fell off a running horse today. I should start by saying I'm 100% ok..My lipstick didn't even smudge - Mac is the 8th wonder of the world.

I was always afraid of falling off a horse. You know that's how Don Draper's dad died. I think he fell off a horse and it kicked him in the face. Mine was less dramatic than that.

I think what happened is that my horse - Oasis - has been watching Usain Bolt and was inspired. We were three riders - Aurelien Chu who is an expert rider. Mou Na who is also a novice like me, but loves speed. Me who has ridden a few times but only with very calm horses that rarely/never gallop.

We start off, it's lovely - Aurelien is galloping, me and Mouna are mostly strolling or trotting.i see signs very early that my horse is an overachieving leader - never a follower. Oasis wants to be ahead of everyone while me I'm ok with staying close to the reassuring presence of the guide. By the ocean, she wants to run in and play around. I can appreciate that - I'm a water baby too..

Then the excitement begins. Mouna wants to go fast but her horse (my horse's twin) will only gallop for 5 seconds then chill. My horse on the other hand wants to go for gold. Every time anyone gives the call for their horse to run, it's my horse that goes off running. At first I'm freaked out by the speed - then I start to enjoy the adrenaline. I learn to lean forward when she's galloping and really squeeze my thighs hard so that you don't lose balance. We are at an ok rhythm - she gives me that nice adrenaline rush but when i kanyaga brakes, she stops. Everytime Mouna or Aurelien tell their horse to run, it's Oasis who runs fast.

Women, they never tell you. Wear a sports bra for horse riding. The ladies had long escaped from their prison.

Then we are galloping and she decided she has to be number one. So me I'm kanyagaing brakes telling her number last is ok. She wasn't having any of that. Now she's trying to overtake Aurelien's horse - sibling rivalry has already made her pass Mouna's horse. She's flying (at least that's what it felt like to my novice self.) She sees Aurelien's horse in the distance and says "bilaz! It can't end like this." Now she's really flying - I'm pulling the reins saying "Arrête! Arrête!" forgetting she's more conversant in wolof than in French. I lose balance and feel myself fall...

Oh my gosh! I've fallen off a running horse. I roll as far as I can - I don't want her to land on me! Turns out I have no need to worry, Oasis didn't even look back.. I thought we were friends! I petted you before the ride. The guide saying "Elle aime les câlins"/"she loves cuddling"…Me too! We have some sort of sisterhood!

Naaa aaah - this girl went for gold:-) Are you ok? Yeah - except my ass really hurts. I landed on it - which is a good thing.... Many worse ways to fall. I stand up ...hold up! What is that noise in my ear? VOK? Turuuuuuruiiiiii turuuuuuruiiiiii

.. Why do they sound so far? I fall on my ass again... .i momentarily remember there a major connection between balance and your ears.. After a few minutes I'm ok to stand up, get back on Oasis and finish the ride - with the guide holding her reins..

Oasis you're cool - we cuddled and took a selfie and all after that, but please don't judge me next time when I take Mouna's horse. It's not you.

It's me.

Celebrating Christmas in Senegal

This time of year, when you take a walk in the streets of Dakar—the capital city of Senegal, that is 92%-95% Muslim in one of the hottest parts of the world, you stumble upon decorated snowmen, Christmas trees with cotton snowballs, traditional masks covered in Christmas lights. It lifts your spirits and gives you hope the end of the world might not be as near as it seems.

The other day I told someone here I love the religious tolerance in Senegal. They told me it’s not “religious tolerance” but “solidarity.” I love that.

I’ve always been uncomfortable with the term “tolerance.” Something about it inherently means there is something wrong about the other—that it has to be “tolerated.” It’s like how you have to tolerate your kleptomaniac friend or your hypochondriac relative. The word ‘tolerance’ gives us the feeling that we are somehow more superior in some way, but graceful enough to not detest our object of tolerance—even though we feel we have every right to.

Teranga—that’s the cornerstone of Senegalese society. Senegalese people are known to be extremely warm and welcoming to each other and to strangers. It is something they highly value as a society. In addition to that, they respect other people’s cultures and way of life even if it’s contrary to theirs. In the streets of Dakar, you will see women in small shorts or mini-skirts alongside other women in Hijab. No one will bat an eyelid. Your way of life will be respected and in turn you should also respect their way of life.

Full article available here on Quartz. 

Up close and personal with sea creatures

Two months into my Dakar move, I heard about a grand annual race that takes place from Dakar to Goree island – a distance of 4km. I love swimming! Me and a few friends decided to start training for the race by swimming from Ngor to Ngor island and back a few times a week. I still recall that first time. It was something from a bizarre comedy. This was my first time swimming in the ocean. Of course I have swam in the Ocean a few times, but it’s more of jumping, catching waves etc. – not intentionally leaving the shore to swim into the deep of the ocean – get to an island across and swim back. I have also swam in other water bodies including a river in Arembepe, Bahia in Brazil. There I was enjoying the swim in the peaceful river when my friends called me back. “Watch out for the snakes!” So river swimming – yes there are risks. My favourite open water swimming was in Lake Tanganyika in Rumonge, Burundi. That water was perfectly clear, freshwater lake – no salt, calm…and I was told that in this particular part there are no hippos or crocodiles. It was such an idyllic place to swim.

The ocean though – I had my concerns before. What about the salt? I was going to wear goggles but you know you can never trust those things – the number of times they get misty and you can’t see anything. What about the waves? We were going to swim at 7am and the waves were not expected to be terrible. What about the sharks? There have been only 4 shark attacks in Dakar from 1828 – 2004. Basically if I got attacked by a shark, then it was fate.

There were 5 of us the first morning. We got to the water at 7am. The view was lovely – the sun rising over the ocean, rocking boats by the beach, a nice view of the island we would be swimming to. We began swimming and everyone got to their natural rhythm. We were all swimming at different speeds and doing different strokes. I chose to do breast stroke as it was the easiest to breathe in, given the waves coming in from the side. I would have drunk too much water if I tried to do crawl – and crawl is tiring for a long-ish swim. Everything was going perfectly up until I was really close to the island. One of my friends is an outdoors rockstar. She had already done the Dakar to Goree swimming race twice, rides a scooter, surfs all the time……ooooh and by the way, she also happens to be an amazing project manager at DalbergJ, in addition to being a really nice, kind, fun person! Before we started swimming, she warned us “When you get to the other side, there will be rocks but don’t worry. They appear much closer than they actually are.” At that point, I had wondered why rocks should be something to worry about – I would soon learn.

I got to the rocky part – the rocks were still far beneath me. With my goggles I got to see lovely small fish swim past me. I was marveling at nature. I went a bit further and because the tide was low, the rocks were much closer to me. It was becoming hard to swim as the water was now really shallow and the rocks were touching my thighs. The obvious instinct was to walk on the rocks…..

But……

The rocks were covered in poisonous sea urchins.

At first I didn’t see the sea urchins. I stood on the rocks a bit. At this point, Tania (the rockstar) turned back and told me – “Ciku don’t stand. Keep swimming. Swim flat so that you don’t touch the rocks. There are urchins on them!”

Up to this point, my interaction with sea urchins had been limited. There had been a plate full of live urchins that my crazy cool Japanese friend – Natsuno – had ordered the first time we went together to Point des Almadies. Those things are ugly! So I knew they were ugly and move like something from a nightmare.

I had later learnt that on top of being a very creepy meal, they are extremely dangerous. Two weeks before, Tania had been surfing and landed on sea urchins on a rock. Her knee had been the size of small football for 4 days.

I knew I wanted nothing to do with these urchins – not on my plate, not under my skin.

“Ouch!”

“Did something sting you?”

I replied, “Yeah. My foot hurts and my finger too.”

“Oh no. You’ve been stung by sea urchins. Let me see if there is a way to get to the beach without having to pass these rocks.”

By this time I was petrified. I had no desire to get to the island anymore – we were close enough, but would have to go through poisonous territory to get there. I decided to turn back and swim back to the mainland. By the time I got to the mainland, my foot and finger were stinging. From an inspection of my wounds, we suspected that my finger had been stung by a jellyfish, while my foot had sea urchin spikes in it. Tania got a needle, heated it usinga lighter and got to work. I thought I would need a shot for the spike removal but it wasn’t too bad.

Some spikes were really deep inside and Tania advised to call a doctor home to come remove them immediately or risk getting really swollen and having to deal with lots of pain. A doctor was called and I needed quite a bit of language support from my friends as I could not even pronounce what got me Les oursins (sea urchins) et une meduse (jellyfish). I kept on saying Les Oiseaux (birds.) Clearly the doctor must have been wondering how “birds stung the sole of my foot.”

Aaaah. I got up close and personal with these sea creatures! Be warned. These stings get worse day by day. On the first day I thought “this is not too bad.” By the 3rd day it was really painful to walk. I had to bail out of a weekend trip to Gambia.

Sea urchins, next time I will eat you.  

The face of 14th century traditional Senegalese wrestling in a changing world

It is dusk. You are one of the thousands in the roaring crowd at Demba Diop stadium in Dakar. You catch snippets of conversations in Wolof and some French – but such sports events rarely need explaining. You look down at the stage to see the two opponents preparing for their big fight. Each has a marabout or two who leads him through a series of rituals that while steeped in traditional Senegalese culture also heavily borrows from mystical Sufi Islamism that is practiced by most Senegalese. A huge well sculpted loin-cloth clad wrestler walks through a wooden loop four times to ward off any negative spells that might have been placed against him to cause his defeat. Another equally huge sculpted loin-cloth clad wrestler wearing leather charms and amulets douses himself in an oily looking liquid handed over to him by his marabout (spiritual leader). This potion is to increase his strength, make him invincible and assure him victory. The match is about to begin and there are hundreds of people in the sandy stage below. You take a minute to assess everything else that is going on there – just a minute – any longer and you might miss the actual fight. Awrestling school’s members are run-dancing a lap round the field. They are clad in their jerseys – every so often they stop and break out into the most amazing dances – each wrestling school has their own signature songs and dances. To the right you see a drumming troupe – the crowd gets more excited the faster the sabar plays. Near the drumming troupe there is a dancer who moves as if he has no bones in his body – the drumming tempo increases, he dances with even more vigor, the crowd is elated. Near the center stage there is a group of women singing. You are taking it all in then you remember that the main event is the fight. You look back at the main fight – they have started. Years of preparation for the wrestlers, hours of smaller fights and the side-shows at today’s event – all culminating in this one large fight. If you are lucky it might last four minutes. If not so lucky it might be a quick fight where one wrestler simply knocks the other on the head and within less than 5 seconds the whole match is done – once the wrestler falls to the ground howling out in pain (as was the case the evening I watched a match between Ama Baldé vs. Gouy Gui). In any case, you will have been fortunate to see a 14th century Senegalese wrestling match come alive right before your eyes in a 21st century stadium.

La lutte or laamb as it is known in Wolof has existed since at least the 14th century in Senegal when the first known wrestler – Boukar Djilak Faye lived. While traditional wrestling is also common in other West African nations, La lutte is unique in how it has managed to grow, adapt to the times while still holding on to the interesting cultural and mystical elements that make it a must watch. It is one of the few bare-fisted wrestling forms that exists worldwide. The fame of modern day wrestling in Senegal is attributed to a wrestler called Tyson who started off in the 90s. He is credited with changing it merely from a sport to a real business becoming the first Senegalese wrestler to earn lots of money from the sport. Traditionally wrestling served various purposes In Senegal. It was a form of entertainment – after the harvest season villages would organize wrestling matches against each other. It was sometimes a way of paying homage to respected leaders – wrestling matches could take place at funeral remembrances of community greats. Sometimes it was used during initiation, to court wives or a show of masculinity. The sport has now grown to become even more famous and attract larger sponsors that football.

In a country where at least half of the population is unemployed. The fame and fortune that wrestling promises attracts many fighters – especially those from less privileged backgrounds. But what really is the potential earning from wrestling? There are around 3000 registered wrestlers in Senegal. Of these, only a dozen or so earn the legendary figures sometimes quoted of $100,000 - $300,000 a fight – and most times these wrestlers will only earn that once a season – wrestling season runs from January to end of July. Majority of the other wrestlers make around $2000 per season (which is still significant in a country where the UN estimates of annual income per capita are less than USD 1000.) As such people who are turning to wrestling might still not be wrong in thinking that this might be a good alternative option for them to create a livelihood.

But what about all the violence that such sports encourage? It might be counterintuitive but with high unemployment and frustration, violence is typically on the rise (as seen in many countries.) To create an outlet where people can channel these emotions within a controlled environment might calm some of these tensions. In reality the option is not really between wrestling and formal employment for many, but really wrestling and unemployment (or underemployment.) Senegalese society is also quite peaceful in general. Even during the matches themselves, people are not out for a bloodbath, but really for entertainment. Many Senegalese will speak of a wrestler known as “The Butcher” with derision – he was known for leaving his opponents bloody – the fans did not like it. During the matches, people are not baying for blood but really for an entertaining match that combines skills, culture and technique. Violence among fans as a result of the sport is also a concern, but the incidences reported are nowhere near as serious in magnitude as those witnessed in European countries after English Premier League matches or even sometimes in my home country (Kenya) after some football matches. Past incidences have been attributed to the fact that betting on the matches is really high and a vast proportion of youth from neighboring environs who place bets get violent when they lose their money – if the match does not end in their favor.  Increased security at the matches can ensure that they remain safe for all who wish to watch it – sports betting globally increases with popularity of a sport.

Why La Lutte is really fascinating is that it is further evidence of a growing trend on the continent where we are beginning to look within ourselves, embrace some of our unique cultures and find ways to grow them locally and then internationally. It is Africans refusing the rhetoric that arts and culture on the continent never existed before colonialism, that the most interesting thing about our countries is colonial history and post-colonial struggles and that the only good things to be found in our countries are those we got from the West. There is a cultural revolution taking over the continent – one that has started with music and literature and is spreading into even more aspects of our cultural heritage. We need to realize that even across the different African countries, people hunger to know more about other African countries. My education system taught me little other than we had some kingdoms, then we enslaved each other, then Arabs and the West came and took slavery to another level, then colonialism happened, we put up a good fight (The Battle of Adowa, Mau Mau rebellion, and so many other not so successful rebellions including using some magical potions that were to ward off bullets (Maji Maji rebellion). After that the colonial powers left us to our own defenses and we made a mess out of everything – descending into war, famine, disease etc. The West then came back to save us in various forms and anything good or interesting taking place on the continent right now is because of the benevolence of the West.

We as Africans need to change this rhetoric – and what better way to do that than owning and embracing our unique cultures, discovering them and monetizing them (La lutte attracts numerous corporate sponsors, but has still managed to remain authentic.)

La lutte in Senegal is a must see – now my next article will be on this little pesky visa situation that makes it EXTREMELY difficult for an African to travel in Africa. Thank you Senegal though for not requiring a visa for most people – lots of other countries need to take up this initiative.

First published on Suluzulu