Buried amongst the other: what happens when we find our treasures in each other

Right now: in this present moment, my memories have transported me back to Joal. I am reporting to you live from Joal. Seereer village in Senegal. Mostly Chrisitian population in a predominantly Muslim country. We visit this place because it is an anomaly—a rarity. This is one of the only communities in Senegal (a predominantly Muslim country) that have pigs ready to be killed, prepared, and enjoyed.

Here I am. A Christian ? What do these identities even mean in such a religious place? During my time here, I do not think I have prayed once. I thank the Lord, but I say Alhumdillialay. I thank Allah. I hope for things in the will of Allah. Titles and labels immensely separate us from the unidentifiable elements that define us. I suspended these titles and seized every opportunity to lean into spirituality. The fresh moments when the spirit takes over allowed me to pen the following:

To be buried amongst the other. 

We visited a space. A burial site. Dedicated at first to Christians. Catholics. Overtime, more bodies began to be buried here. Muslim bodies. Harmoniously buried there, but still an obvious separation is what I witnessed. There is only a finite amount of space. One student asked if the community of Muslims and Christians (who peacefully live together) were still allowing new bodies to be buried. Apparently, the community is still making space for the dead. Willing and open. 

I repeat, there is a finite amount of space. The burial site is located on an island, with a bridge connecting to it. As time progresses, the burial site is sure to be filled. Who gets priority for such space ? Who lays claim to the land ? Although Joal is majority Christian, will Muslims still be buried there when maximum capacity is nearly reached ?

Titles and labels immensely separate us from the unidentifiable elements that define us.

The larger question still remains: what does it mean to be buried amongst the other ? Laying next to the other. Ceremoniously so. Still with a distance. How can I lay next to you if I am not next to you. We create such a distance from one another in life and in death. The things we want to be close to, we may never ever get too close to. Why ? There is and will always be a distance. Imagine if we experienced the deepest parts of one another in the most vulnerable ways. I want to tell the truth. I want to speak to, with, and through my heart. I want to eliminate the distance that comes from audio streams, vocality, touch, smell, taste, and hearing. I want that “you know what I mean” kind of distance. 

Again, I ask, what does it mean to be buried amongst the other. Sharing the same space where we both ascend to separate heights. Even in death, we will be separate: ascending to our different Gods. I am your other and your are mines. I want to be your other and I want you to be mines. I need you to be my other and I need you to be mines. I want you. I need you. What is black without white ? What is white without white ? I need you in order to understand myself and become the person that I need to become. I need you in my life. And I need you in my death. You make sense of my becoming and my ending. You are the period to my sentence. You are the capitalization to the start of my sentence.

What if we started to see each other in this light. What if we bury ourselves amongst the other ? What if we bury ourselves in each other ? What if we carry each other in the deepest of ways ? I want you to carry me until I cannot carry myself anymore. Teach me how to carry myself, so I can learn a new way. I need to carry you, also, in these same ways. Carry you with the understanding that I am already buried inside of you. I want to carry you knowing that in you is me. In turn, by carrying you I am making the conscious decision to carry myself. 

What if I am too heavy ? What if I take up too much space ? The island is finitely limited. But it is surrounded by an infinite amount of water. The depths to which I am able to carry you is unlimited because I know that you take me in you. I would never take up too much space in you. I am not too heavy because in you is light, both shining and a definition of airiness. I fear not of what I am, will be, was, and will continue to be, because in you is fertile for my evolution. I choose not to be here, but here we are, buried amongst one another. 

I choose not to believe in the idea of the other. Not because there are other ways of knowing, but because we exist as the other. To be buried amongst the other is to put death to oneself so that the other can live. 

We lay witness to each other. 

We die amongst the other. 

We surround ourselves by the other.

We are each other.

My friend Fatima, reflecting on the Christian and Muslim burial site

Edifice found in a public space, located very close to where the sacred Boab Tree is planted.

Local Joal community member comfortably relaxing on the bridge that is used to cross over to the Christian and Muslim Burial Grounds

The God, Glory, and Gateway found on Gorèe Island

On the way to Gorée Island, the ferry was filled with white tourists on the way to the island. Upon arrival, there were families on the beach. Tour guide explained that this place is a pilgramge site for members of the diaspora.Who were these tourists ? Why were there going to Goree ? Was it pure tourism ? Were they really to discover the history ?

There were many people on the island selling various items. They were located on the interior of the island and along the perimeter (closer to the docks). Did these sellers live on the island ? Is there any other diversity to the economy on the island ?

The history that was shared with the group by the tour guide underscored that Gorée Island is a colonial space. Even with function as a colonial space, there is a present community that exists. There was a man leaning against the structure of where slaves used to be sold. In fact, one of the top schools in the Senegal is located on Gorée Island and it functions as a boarding school.

Tour guide of the Maison d’Esclaves said that the reason that African Americans are good athletes is because the slaves that exited the “Door of No Return” were “the best of the best.” Was this reading of history true ? Why as a historian, add this commentary to the tour ? How many times and to how many groups of people has the tour guide shared this information with ?

At a statue donated by Brazil, our professor remarked that the drum of the statue represents the continuum of culture, history, and tradition between the African Continent and the diaspora.

In connection to my experiences in Senegal, I do know that there are catholic churches in the different communities that I have visited in Senegal. One of particular interests is the Catholic Church that I got a chance to visit on Gorée Island. This church has a pilgrimage banner that instilled a hierarchy between the depiction of white Jesus over black African faces. There were rays of light beaming around the figure of this White Jesus and this figure was looking down over these African individuals. This banner was quite large and expansive, as it took up almost half of the church’s exterior. In  addition, this was a clear advertisement to encourage individuals to attend the upcoming pilgrimage. When I asked Jean Louis, who is a devout Catholic about this pilgrimage, he says that a lot of Senegalese Catholics attend this pilgrimage every year. Even on a small island such as Gorée Island, this church stood out amongst all of these colorful buildings for which Portuguese settlers had imported. In terms of positionality, the church loomed over the surrounding buildings with its European pillars and its coating of white created a connotation of purity amongst such “color.” What messages does architecture send to the people of Gorée Island ? Have they become engrained in the conscious and subconscious of the Senegalese people ?

Overall, religion has a way of occupying space that can be masked in a purity that allows for to romanticize its proliferation as in the case of both. Although given historical account can remain objective without injecting emotionality, there is a marginalization is evident in the lack of explicitly sharing the narratives of the trauma that religion has played in these Senegalese communities. 

Thinking of Womxn in Senegal: Reflecting on gender roles and dynamics

In order to understand the manifestations of gender in the Senegalese context we can look to the markers of gender that are found in language, culture, and in society. Although the Senegalese context cannot be entirely understood by these simple markers, these markers can be understood as evidence for the manifestations of gender. In language, it can be understood that familial understanding allows for an erasure of gender when referring to specific family members. For instance, when referring to one’s paternal lineage or geño, one refers to their paternal aunt as bàjjen, which is the contracted form of ‘baay jigéen’. This term has the root baay, which means ‘father’ and ‘jigéen,’ the gender marker for woman. The literal translation for this term is ‘father woman.’ This erasure of gender allows women to take on the responsibilities and tasks assigned to a father. Therefore, a doom or a jarbaat must give the respect of that which is given to one’s father and his paternal lineage. 

This extended respect given to women apart of a paternal lineage, allowed by language, highlights the flexibility of gender role in the Senegalese context. In addition, this flexibility is evident in the culture. The Wolof term jabar or wife also means ‘the one who knows the market.’ This literal definition underscores the expectations of a wife in the Senegalese context: she is expected to buy and cook the food. In my experience, my host mother is responsible for the finances in the household. As a result of her monopoly over the family’s finance, my host-father has to request money from my host mother. However, this relationship between husband and wife is dichotomous. My host mother is very loyal to her family and most of all, her husband. She holds him and his image in high regards. This is evident in the way she prepares his meals, responds to his calls, and caters to his needs. My host mother is very involved in the lives of her children. When I asked her if she ever gets bored during her retirement, she says ‘No’ because she has many duties to keep her busy. She cites: maintaining the household, taking care of her adult children, shopping, cooking, and cleaning. My host mother is just one example of the cultural evidence that points to the manifestation of gender in the Senegalese context. Because my host mother’s responsibilities spawns over these domains, by turn, she is in control over these domains. Essentially, this dichotomy of responsibility and control that Senegalese women lay claim to incapsulates the cultural component of the manifestations of gender. 

In addition to these cultural markers, there are societal markers that are found in the symbols present throughout Senegal. Although symbols may not depict the reality of the manifestations of gender, they represent an idealized state for the Senegalese context. One of these symbols include the African Renaissance Monument, located in the Ouakam region of Dakar. This monument, standing at 52 meters high, depicts a shirtless man with large muscles leaping from the hills. This man is carrying a child on his left arm while a woman who is swept off her feet is hanging on his right arm. Former President of Senegal, Abdoulaye Wade, described his idea for the statue saying “The man, the woman and their child will face the sun, symbolizing the opening of the continent to the rest of the world. It is a force of propulsion and attraction in the greatness, the stability and the durability of Africa." Wade’s interpretation of the statue casts a shadow on the plight of the women in the Senegalese context. This statue is a reminder to the Senegalese woman that she will always be framed within the imagined ideas of her positionality: the larger context of Africa. This means that not only is she a Senegalese woman, but also that she is an African woman. Therefore, she is beholden to these imagined ideas of who she is expected to be. Critiques of the statue find that the reality of Senegalese society should have the woman holding the man because of her critical role in Senegalese culture (). Regardless of the debate surrounding the monument, it stands as a cultural symbol that displays a gendered manifestation of the Senegalese woman: she is by the side of her male counterpart, looking up to him, following him into the direction that he has set.

When thinking of the treatment of women in Senegal and in Africa it important to conceptualize the gender roles and the way they create the space for either the marginalization or integration of women in society. In Oyeronke Oyewumi’s The Invention of Women: Making an African Sense of Western Gender Discourses, the question of Yoruba Women and their positionality in Nigeria adds a layer of complexity to how gender is created, interpreted and critiqued. In Bibi Bakare-Yusuf’s reading of Oyewumi’s work, she cautions readers to be mindful of the risk that comes with “projecting into the society that which is not there at either a discursive or praxial level.” In order to think about the treatment of women in Senegal and in Africa, we must refrain from importing concepts from one society to another. The way one must conceptualize the treatment of women in Senegal and in Africa is to not conceptualize or not theorize. These types of practices limit the activities and complexities of women who exist in these spaces. One must think about the treatment of women without projections of one’s lived experiences. Ultimately,  one must limit themselves from labeling observations with reductive gender inequality or inclusivity. 

As a Haitian-American man, I acknowledge there are limits to my understanding of the questions due to the boundaries of my identity. There are many facets to my identity that affect my positionality when thinking about the answers to questions related to manifestations of gender. As a man, there are moments in my life that I will never experience that women go through such as dealing with menstrual pains and pregnancy. I must constantly reflect on the plurality of the experiences that women have and give credence to the lack of my ability to witness the full nuance in the manifestations of gender.

This question regarding the manifestations of gender requires me to contextualize African women and Senegalese women. Given my positionality, these are lived experiences that I have limited access to. Therefore, when extending my deepest sympathies, I “can only imagine” the harsh realities of what these African women face on a daily basis. Due to the limits of imagination, my positionality requires me to the listen and learn from these women. There are questions that cannot be answered unless I speak to these women and try to understand the complexities of their identity. Due to the intersectionality of trying to understand women who are Senegalese and African it is important is to note that I am an American of Haitian descent. As an American, there is an inherent difference to the ways of knowing and understanding people of different nationalities because of the cultural differences that exist. However, these differences do not limit the opportunities that exist to understand one another. Within these differences exist commonalities that bind us together that center around common themes. 

Bayfall Community: Creating Centrality No Matter What

The Casamance region has an exteriority that extends itself to laying a rightful claim towards the center albeit: geographically, historically, and economically. The Casamance region has always been viewed as the antithesis of the northern region of Senegal. Often described as ‘pay du diggël,’ or ‘false region,’ the Casamance area has never been recognized as real. In addition to this geographic dispute of space, it important to note that imposed colonial definitions of the Casamance region has contributed to its placement in the periphery. For example, colonial administrative documents refer to the Casamance region as ‘colony of Senegal’ or ‘territory cu Casamance’—further emphasizing the “juridicopolitical state of flux” (236). Historically, the presence of the ‘nordistes’ or migrants coming from the northern region part of Senegal have led to the invasion and neglect of the Casamance region. Ultimately, the migratory influx of individuals from the north have led to the clearing and expropriation of the local Casamance lands that have led to the regional wealth that does not benefit the people who live in the region. This economic imbalance is proof of the peripheral treatment that exists in the Casamance region by focal points of Senegal such as the Dakar region. 

The Casamance region reminds me of the Bay Fall community that we visited in Bambey, a community that was first built to exist as a center in what was considered inhabitable land by Sheikh Ibrahima Fall. The Bay Fall people can be understood as a case-study of a community that has seemingly positioned themselves within the center of the center-periphery. The Bay Fall community is a self-sufficient community that have developed their own economic practices. Communities such as these must carve out a niche identity within the economic sphere, political sphere, and cultural sphere because of events such as migration, colonization, and globalization. However, through my analysis of the Bay Fall, I assert that they are recreating their positionality from the periphery with nuance that seems like decentralization. Ultimately, the Bay Fall community is a community that was found a way to thrive within the center-periphery model. In my opinion, the Casamance region is similar to communities like the Bay Fall communities: in which they are independent out of necessity. When I asked one of the members of the community about the increasingly globalized world and how that has transformed communities such as the Bay Fall, she responded that this is unavoidable. The globalized world has impacted the shared history and culture within communities such as the Bay Fall. 

Within this increasingly globalized world, the ideas inherent to globality: inclusion, access, advanced technology, and economic development have always been concentrated in very specific spaces. Overall, there is a centrality to globality that has been cultivated throughout history that has led to the sustaining of center-periphery models throughout the world. In order to uphold this focal point that has been pivotal to the success of globality it is important to maintain the upkeep of global cities. These global cities can be considered London, Tokyo, New York, Lagos, Dakar, and Miami (to name of a few). It is important to note that the development of such cities have led to the marginalization of many other surrounding cities—the creation of the periphery. These centers also rely upon the periphery for its power by harnessing and extracting its resources. By turn, communities such as Bay Fall must rely on the center for essential modes of existence. For example, the Bay Fall community has an increasingly burgeoning artisanal economy that is dependent upon Dakar for the selling of its goods. Nevertheless, the Bay Fall community has found a way to exist within the confines of the center-periphery model. 

Decaying Coloniality: Reminder or Scar ? What should we do about painful historical landmarks

I visited a number of historical sites in Saint Louis that the guide referred to as UNESCO sites. At the present moment, we could not go in because the doors were chained. At these UNESCO sites, it appears that no current work is being done. When asked how the Senegalese people feel about the delay in restoration of the UNESCO sites, the tour guide responded that the people understand that UNESCO is quite busy as they are working on site all of the world. The tour guide also said that the people of St. Louis also understand that UNESCO is the one who will ultimately have the resources to restore this colonial sites.  UNESCO selects sites and makes designates them as “World Heritage” after governments asked for it. But UNESCO does not provide any financial aid for preservation: the Senegalese government and local municipalities are supposed to handle this. It is very complex in St Louis and in Gorée and in the way it involves the inhabitants. 

During the carriage ride, I began to witness that a lot of the colonial architecture was in decay. The sides of building had chipped paint and appeared to be torn down. Some of which also appeared to be vacant, without anyone inside of them. This was a distinct difference between what I had witnessed in Gorée Island, where buildings seemed to have a fresh coat of paint and also appeared to be very well intact. The buildings in Gorée Island also resembled strongly its deep connection to colonial history. The two sites and the images they refer to regarding their common past have not been shaped (by politics, economy, demography, tourism, entrepreneurship) in the same way.

Witnessing all of these decaying buildings led me to question if the Senegalese people in Saint Louis were interested in restoring the colonial beauty of the buildings ? Who were the individuals that restored Gorée Island ? Why had they not come to Saint Louis ? How did the people in Saint Louis feel about the decaying coloniality around them ? Did they want to preserve it ? Was it their choice to preserve it ? Should these buildings be preserved ? Why are certain buildings being preserved and not others ? Should new building be erected that signify a shift towards decoloniality ? What would a change in architecture look like for the Senegalese people ? What would a change in architecture mean for the Senegalese people ?

These places have been the icons of Senegal’s colonial history. These two places would be an interesting case study on these places and the uncovering the historical accounts of the founding of both of these places, particular prior to colonial presence. Understanding the origin stories and asking reflective questions on these particular places propels the research to understand how myths are invented that celebrate the Senegalese people and affirm one’s existence. How do told and retold stories allows one to mediate their identity in a post-colonial space.

I am particularly interested in understanding the founding of these particular cities and role that myths play a role in helping to reclaim the space. Given that history is accessed through memory, it is important to conceptualize how the mystical element of myths aids in the reclamation of the way one understands and interacts with their surrounding with the information given by origin stories. How and when do the Senegalese inhabitants consider the origins of these cities and why? Does it start with colonialism ?  If this is the case, how does it shape their narratives ? How does that lead to historical appropriation? What does it mean about the memory that exists of events prior to colonialism ? What narrative is being used to fill those gaps in knowledge ? For instance, while in Bambey Seereer, I was able to speak with one of the chief of the village and ask him about the origins of Bambey Seerer. When asked about the founding of the village, he began to mention the first existence of the “Toubabs” or the Whites, in this instance, the colonial presence. His connection between the origins of Bambey Seerer and colonial history is very interesting in the way it sets and articulates the memory of the space. It is these types of logical connections that fuel my question of trying to understand the current memory that exists. 

Witnessing the Witness: reflections on religiosity in Senegal

Upon arrival to the mosque in Yoff, there was a woman dressed in yellow who was on the outside with praying beads. Over the course of our tour, she migrated towards the inside of the gates in front of the well and sat down with her praying beads. I wonder if this woman comes here a lot ? Does she live in this neighborhood ? Was there something specific going on her life that made her come her ? What about the mosque makes one linger around the grounds.

When we went inside of the mosque that also served as the burial site for Mohammed, the Senegalese-based students and few of the American students began to meditate around the burial grounds. Most of the students saw this to be a moment to pray. Given the significance of the space shared by the Imam, why was it that students who were muslim and non-muslim felt the need to participate in some form of religious performativity ?

Our professor brought us to a site where the traditional African rituals are performed. He shared that when his grandmother was sick she was brought to this exact location for rituals to be performed. Our professor said that at the end of the ritual, his grandmother had been healed. At this site, there had been a Boab tree that had recently been moved. However, this site still holds its significance regardless of the lack of Boab trees. However, as a physical space there is a lot of trash and garbage that is laying around. Why does the community treat their space as such ?Why wasn’t the mosque nearby held in the same condition ? Who is responsible for keeping this particular religious ground clean?

On the way to witness the healing ritual, there was a public square that had murals of all of the Maurid religious leaders and scholars. During the ritual, the woman how was sick had to lay in between two goats (which were about to be sacrificed). They leader of the ritual seemed to be heavily involved in the community, many of which greeted him. During his talk with the students his phone was constantly ringing. During the ritual, there were multiple blankets placed on top of the woman and the two goats. Members of the community began to come. The musicians started to take their place. Men and women began to dance in circles surrounding the blanket. The men and women were separated by gender in the circle. The energy of the music and the energy of the circle was noticeable. Men and women began to pass out to the beat of the drums and their correlational dancing. What is going to happen to the woman after the ritual ? Was her ailment going to be fixed ? What happens if she her sickness does not go away ? This ritual felt more cultural than religious, why ?

Senegalese religiosity has been a very important mediating factor in the way Senegalese people reclaim post-colonial space. Religiosity and spirituality offers a way to navigate post-colonial spaces as subjects. I believe that it is very important to capture the narrative of the Senegalese people who live in what is considered to be one of the most sacred spaces in Senegal: Touba  and Yoff. The Mouride constitute one of the most important brotherhoods in Senegal, and the most important Sufi brotherhood in Sub-Saharan Africa. The religious center of Mourides is the city of Touba, which houses one of the largest mosques in Africa. Each year, the Mourides commemorate the exile of Marabout Ahmadou Bamba  during Magal, celebrated in the holy city of Touba. Yoff is home to the Layene brotherhood, the third largest of the Muslim brotherhoods of Senegal. Yoff is home to the Grande Mosquée de Yoff, an elaborate mosque, the mausoleum of its founder, and of several of his descendants.

After visiting both of these spaces, I witnessed how much the colonial history is heavily associated with the current beliefs and practices today. The integration of the current belief and practices today seems to aid the people of Senegal in their piety. For instance, possible questions include what are the rules in Yoff and how does it help one occupy the space? How do processes such as initiation allow one to have a direct line of communication with God, and does its spiritual and mystical component aid in one’s existence in a post-colonial space. It is with this information that I would like to study how Senegalese religiosity constitutes itself in the existence of individuals in a post-colonial space.

Kan moo ci topp ? - The beginnings of my Senegal Journey

My Columbia University experience has been a unique journey. Prior to coming to Columbia, I had not heard about the beautiful language of Wolof. At a language fair, I was persuaded by my current professor to take Wolof, one of the most commonly spoken languages in Senegal. As I began to learn Wolof I realized that there was an irresistible beauty to the language that felt so close to my being. I have always been a lover of languages. As a young Haitian-American man, I am one of the few members of my generation who can speak with my grandparents in Haitian Creole and French. The diaspora is important to my identity; it was important to my identity then, and it is important to me now. 

I often wanted to unpack my identity in the classroom, using an academic setting to understand the global reach of my blackness. The diaspora also inspires thought surrounding the plurality of blackness and the many shapes and forms that become apparent throughout the world. The cancellation of the program then and now is refusing this experience to many students. What was offered in 2018 is quite different from what is being offered now. Studying abroad in Senegal under the guidance of Dr. Cheikh Thiam and Dr. Monika Brodnicka has allowed me to create a space for imagining a decolonial future in the realm of identity, history, globality, culture, and beyond.

In Wolof, there is a proverb that says “Nit, nitay garabam” or “A man’s medicine are the people.” While sitting in my wolof class at Columbia, I dreamed of eating Ceebu Jën and drinking midday ataaya. I sought after every opportunity to speak Wolof. I began to volunteer at Harlem Hospital, advocating for communities that are underserved called “Le Petit Senegal” that often get overlooked in the administration of public health. For example, the rate of infant mortality in Central Harlem is still more than eight times the rate in the Upper East Side. My experience in Senegal has provided me with the tools necessary to continue advocating for predominantly African communities in urban areas

I am looking forward to studying abroad with SIT. I am filled with great hope and optimism because I have the opportunity to build upon my previous coursework and expand my academic horizon. Throughout my time at Columbia I have been able to widen my worldview.  In the same vein, I am excited about going to Senegal to hone my abilities as critical thinker, expand my cultural interests, and discover new passions