Saturday morning was spent in a lecture on what are referred to as "joking relationships" in Senegal. Our expert was Ibrahima Yaffa, President of a Socio-cultural organization in Casamance, a respected elder, and a facilitator/negotiator in the Casamance rebellion peace talks.We met him days before in Ziguinchor when touring churches, mosques, and cemeteries
Joking relationships are characterized by our speaker as unique and important methods for conflict resolution that are uniquely Africa. A form of verbal back and forth that pacifies, curtails aggression, and assists with intercultural communication. These relationships are multigenerational and can be between specific ethnic groups and certain families. We didn't get a lot of specific examples but we did hear the Priest in Ziguinchor jokingly refer to Fallou's family name (Ngom) as being gluttonous--something to the effect of, "....you Ngom's like to eat a lot, like pigs..."Rules as to who can participate, and to what degree are seemingly rigid. They are given credit however, for some of the tamping down of hostilities here----they are an extraordinary force that keeps behavior in line within families, cultures, and communities. One does not violate the constraints of a joking relationship. To do so would bring shame upon you and your community that can last for centuries.
Apparently these relationships do not apply to certain Spanish visitors. At the pool Saturday evening, a group of around 6-7 Spanish road building contractors spent the day drinking and having a good time. Several of us interacted with them at times, always pleasantly. I myself was over on their side of the pool late evening when a fellow said something terribly racist about Africans that was overheard by a member of our delegation. I quickly withdrew but the damage was done and tempers flared. One does not get into physical altercations in foreign countries without there being extraordinary consequences---something I know first hand from being a young man in Puerto Escondido, Mexico----and I did my best to calm things down(but pretty ineffectively)----but our leaders did so quite capably and the evening ended with a lot of noise and bluster but nothing worse. The danger was that the hotel staff was siding with "us" against the intoxicated Iberians and many might have lost their jobs had things gotten worse.
Sunday, we ate lunch and trundled into the vans to go back to the Ziguinchor airport for the quick flight back to our "beloved" Dakar. Flight was to be at at 5. We arrived around 3. Ramadan is still in effect here and we got to witness the effect that hunger has on demeanor up close. No joking relationships here apparently either. First, some airport employee with a badge had a physical skirmish with the Senegalese equivalent of a TSA policeman. I think he may have punched him but did not see it. There was a lot of shouting. Personal items crashed to the floor. Surrogates got involved. About two hours later, the real police showed up and the instigator was asked to follow the them back to the station in his own car. Last seen he was still swaggering and didn't seem worried. Cops were all business. TSA guy still manning the x-ray machine sans the shirt part of his uniform. Discourse is a bit louder here than what we are used to---I am often startled by simple conversation---and altercation is pretty dang loud, the voices are literally booming and going very quickly.
Meanwhile for two more hours we wait while a parade of seemingly important officials and other passengers attempt to check boxes of mangoes and 100lb bags of sugar on the plane. These are all wrapped with miles of tape. Apparently Casamance mangoes are better. A young Euro woman however has luggage over 20 kilos. This is a no-go apparently. Mangoes are more "acceptable" than the luggage of a Toubab. (They must have loaded 25 boxes of mangoes on the plane.) She arranges things finally to everyone's expectations and is allowed to board..
Later as we are obediently marched into the waiting area, the plane arrives from Dakar. While in this zone there is another loud altercation at the x-ray machine. A man from Congo---a handler for what looks to be a Chinese businessman---is irate. They'd arrived later, hadn't checked in--and apparently the ticket was sold to the 20ish African girlfriend of a 70ish French guy. Creepy. She, entitled and quite attractive; he a troll of the first order. The shouting was to no avail. Girl got on the plane. Chinese guy did not. He says...."I am never flying this airline again". This is the ONLY airline.
Flight takes 40 minutes. We are back in our old Hotel El Afifa by 7. Dinner at 8. I have the 3 cheese pizza from the menu.
Joking relationships are characterized by our speaker as unique and important methods for conflict resolution that are uniquely Africa. A form of verbal back and forth that pacifies, curtails aggression, and assists with intercultural communication. These relationships are multigenerational and can be between specific ethnic groups and certain families. We didn't get a lot of specific examples but we did hear the Priest in Ziguinchor jokingly refer to Fallou's family name (Ngom) as being gluttonous--something to the effect of, "....you Ngom's like to eat a lot, like pigs..."Rules as to who can participate, and to what degree are seemingly rigid. They are given credit however, for some of the tamping down of hostilities here----they are an extraordinary force that keeps behavior in line within families, cultures, and communities. One does not violate the constraints of a joking relationship. To do so would bring shame upon you and your community that can last for centuries.
Apparently these relationships do not apply to certain Spanish visitors. At the pool Saturday evening, a group of around 6-7 Spanish road building contractors spent the day drinking and having a good time. Several of us interacted with them at times, always pleasantly. I myself was over on their side of the pool late evening when a fellow said something terribly racist about Africans that was overheard by a member of our delegation. I quickly withdrew but the damage was done and tempers flared. One does not get into physical altercations in foreign countries without there being extraordinary consequences---something I know first hand from being a young man in Puerto Escondido, Mexico----and I did my best to calm things down(but pretty ineffectively)----but our leaders did so quite capably and the evening ended with a lot of noise and bluster but nothing worse. The danger was that the hotel staff was siding with "us" against the intoxicated Iberians and many might have lost their jobs had things gotten worse.
Sunday, we ate lunch and trundled into the vans to go back to the Ziguinchor airport for the quick flight back to our "beloved" Dakar. Flight was to be at at 5. We arrived around 3. Ramadan is still in effect here and we got to witness the effect that hunger has on demeanor up close. No joking relationships here apparently either. First, some airport employee with a badge had a physical skirmish with the Senegalese equivalent of a TSA policeman. I think he may have punched him but did not see it. There was a lot of shouting. Personal items crashed to the floor. Surrogates got involved. About two hours later, the real police showed up and the instigator was asked to follow the them back to the station in his own car. Last seen he was still swaggering and didn't seem worried. Cops were all business. TSA guy still manning the x-ray machine sans the shirt part of his uniform. Discourse is a bit louder here than what we are used to---I am often startled by simple conversation---and altercation is pretty dang loud, the voices are literally booming and going very quickly.
Meanwhile for two more hours we wait while a parade of seemingly important officials and other passengers attempt to check boxes of mangoes and 100lb bags of sugar on the plane. These are all wrapped with miles of tape. Apparently Casamance mangoes are better. A young Euro woman however has luggage over 20 kilos. This is a no-go apparently. Mangoes are more "acceptable" than the luggage of a Toubab. (They must have loaded 25 boxes of mangoes on the plane.) She arranges things finally to everyone's expectations and is allowed to board..
Later as we are obediently marched into the waiting area, the plane arrives from Dakar. While in this zone there is another loud altercation at the x-ray machine. A man from Congo---a handler for what looks to be a Chinese businessman---is irate. They'd arrived later, hadn't checked in--and apparently the ticket was sold to the 20ish African girlfriend of a 70ish French guy. Creepy. She, entitled and quite attractive; he a troll of the first order. The shouting was to no avail. Girl got on the plane. Chinese guy did not. He says...."I am never flying this airline again". This is the ONLY airline.
Flight takes 40 minutes. We are back in our old Hotel El Afifa by 7. Dinner at 8. I have the 3 cheese pizza from the menu.
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