Eggs are "nen" in Woloff.
Fish is "jen"
Meat is "yapi"
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Senegalese literature and film
We watched this film the other day after a seminar on "Islam in Senegalese literature and Film", led by our seminar director, Professor Mbaye Cham of Howard University. It was amazing, heartbreaking, uplifting. I could not find the whole film with English subtitles but will post whole thing in French and the a short clip with subtitles.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOqaL-T-kRA&t=31s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bf_k5D40dhw
People with physical and mental disabilities endure lives we cannot imagine in a number of places I've traveled. Here in Senegal their seems to be underfunded efforts to assist them in participating in society but you see them struggling daily. Many eke out an existence panhandling. Whole troops of people in wheelchairs congregate on medians here in Dakar. People missing limbs are not numerous but they are here, breaking your heart a bit---I wonder often how this happened to them---what strange accident or difficult birth has befallen them? Little people are here too. I see what seems to be a mother and child near the hotel a few times. They are proud. They are beautiful in a way that I cannot describe here with words.
On the ferry home from Goree Island I am at the bow of the ship, photographing the port of Dakar as we come in. A young man crawls up to me on my bench. His legs are withered and of hardly any use to him but he manages to move, sit up, halfway stand. He tries to sell me some simple paintings on parchment that I don't really have a desire for...I say no for the hundredth time today it seems---Goree is a gauntlet of street sellers wearing you down---they are even on the boat. He tells me that his wheelchair is broken. I still say no, selfishly not wanting to get my wallet out in the throng---inviting perhaps even more unwanted interactions. He resignedly crawls away on the dusty, filthy deck. I am ashamed. As I exit, I look for him. He is propped up against the wall of the port, already hawking his wares. I quickly walk over and hand him almost $20 in Francs. Fix your chair I say. He thanks me. I do not recount this to engender your praise for my "generosity". But as I write this I have tears in my eyes. Sometimes the world seems a place beyond hopelessness and I feel powerless to change anything. I felt the same way in Russia one day as I watched a boy in a wheelchair trying to descend from a bus with atrociously inadequate disabled facilities---the driver trying to expedite his exit by closing door on him as he and his elderly mother tried to disembark. The faces on the bus impassive.....The cold there sapping my own healthy body of any will to continue on. I see it on my own campus sometimes as fellow students avert their eyes at someone without their own innocuous physical advantages---or who simply look different. Words escape me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOqaL-T-kRA&t=31s
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bf_k5D40dhw
People with physical and mental disabilities endure lives we cannot imagine in a number of places I've traveled. Here in Senegal their seems to be underfunded efforts to assist them in participating in society but you see them struggling daily. Many eke out an existence panhandling. Whole troops of people in wheelchairs congregate on medians here in Dakar. People missing limbs are not numerous but they are here, breaking your heart a bit---I wonder often how this happened to them---what strange accident or difficult birth has befallen them? Little people are here too. I see what seems to be a mother and child near the hotel a few times. They are proud. They are beautiful in a way that I cannot describe here with words.
On the ferry home from Goree Island I am at the bow of the ship, photographing the port of Dakar as we come in. A young man crawls up to me on my bench. His legs are withered and of hardly any use to him but he manages to move, sit up, halfway stand. He tries to sell me some simple paintings on parchment that I don't really have a desire for...I say no for the hundredth time today it seems---Goree is a gauntlet of street sellers wearing you down---they are even on the boat. He tells me that his wheelchair is broken. I still say no, selfishly not wanting to get my wallet out in the throng---inviting perhaps even more unwanted interactions. He resignedly crawls away on the dusty, filthy deck. I am ashamed. As I exit, I look for him. He is propped up against the wall of the port, already hawking his wares. I quickly walk over and hand him almost $20 in Francs. Fix your chair I say. He thanks me. I do not recount this to engender your praise for my "generosity". But as I write this I have tears in my eyes. Sometimes the world seems a place beyond hopelessness and I feel powerless to change anything. I felt the same way in Russia one day as I watched a boy in a wheelchair trying to descend from a bus with atrociously inadequate disabled facilities---the driver trying to expedite his exit by closing door on him as he and his elderly mother tried to disembark. The faces on the bus impassive.....The cold there sapping my own healthy body of any will to continue on. I see it on my own campus sometimes as fellow students avert their eyes at someone without their own innocuous physical advantages---or who simply look different. Words escape me.
Vendor
Street sellers here are a rough bunch. There is no peace. A multitude of entreaties----"my friend", "best price", "come look", "I have a gift for you". They are everywhere, small towns, big cities, roadsides. In St. Louis I overhear the following embittered diatribe when someone tries to say no: " You Americans are no good....no spend money....bad for Africa." Perhaps one loses their cool a bit, struggling all day to make enough to survive, when he see our annoyed expressions and furtive crossing of the street. The dance must infuriate him near the end of his day, in the heat. Our privilege is a reminder that his reality is confoundingly different. No wonder his epithet.
Bus ride
Our bus driver on the drive to Sokone and Toubacouta reveals himself to be a connoisseur of African music and my roommate, an expert on the cross pollination of African music and Caribbean/Latin music, expounds on the diversity and character of what is revealed on the sound system of the bus. He(the driver) plays Peter Tosh, Youssou N'Dour, Orchestra Baobab, and a mélange of artists I do not know....punctuated by the Mbalax style as well.It is thrilling to ride through the countryside with this varies, excellent soundtrack. The music you hear is deep and varied---it is the sound of Senegal.
Outside of St. Louis, going south you can see the beginnings of a natural gas pipeline. Huge unburied pipe, 1.5 meters in circumference snake across the desiccated countryside. People here say this is going to change the country profoundly. The deposits are apparently offshore and many of us shudder to think of how this will affect the fortunes of the fishermen----and what we know will be noise that will torture dolphins, whales and other things in the sea. The project stretches for uncounted miles....countered by herds of Zebu, goats, donkey carts, lonely groups of humans in the sparse shade.
At one point we pull off for one of the numerous bathroom breaks. Our group files off. The Talibes descend. People buy a variety of sweets drinks, bags of strange chips, tea, etc. Suddenly two Euros pull up on expensive touring bikes---with panniers. Both have red shirts and light, high tech stuff for what looks like bicycle trek across Senegal. They pause to eat yogurt, pound some juice, and good naturedly converse with a few of our group. They are Norwegian. Man and woman---maybe 45-50 yrs old. Relaxed and calm. They do not seem to have exerted themselves at all. Bad-ass in my view. As the Finnish comedian Ismo would say: "this means bad" and bad means good, courageous, tough. I take a last look at them as we pull away. They seem happy.
Our driver is not one who does things moderately. He accelerates with force---he does not tolerate slow things on the road. Children, carts, taxis, trucks, donkeys, Zebu, goats, pedestrians---all get a jarring, loud, impatient blast of the horn. When we approach a speed bump---they are in every town and village----he pounds the brakes, up and over, and then lurches forward. He is not a patient man. He is friendly enough but speaks very little English. Dresses with great pride. An impervious expression on his face. Interacts with locals often at our stops.
Outside of St. Louis, going south you can see the beginnings of a natural gas pipeline. Huge unburied pipe, 1.5 meters in circumference snake across the desiccated countryside. People here say this is going to change the country profoundly. The deposits are apparently offshore and many of us shudder to think of how this will affect the fortunes of the fishermen----and what we know will be noise that will torture dolphins, whales and other things in the sea. The project stretches for uncounted miles....countered by herds of Zebu, goats, donkey carts, lonely groups of humans in the sparse shade.
At one point we pull off for one of the numerous bathroom breaks. Our group files off. The Talibes descend. People buy a variety of sweets drinks, bags of strange chips, tea, etc. Suddenly two Euros pull up on expensive touring bikes---with panniers. Both have red shirts and light, high tech stuff for what looks like bicycle trek across Senegal. They pause to eat yogurt, pound some juice, and good naturedly converse with a few of our group. They are Norwegian. Man and woman---maybe 45-50 yrs old. Relaxed and calm. They do not seem to have exerted themselves at all. Bad-ass in my view. As the Finnish comedian Ismo would say: "this means bad" and bad means good, courageous, tough. I take a last look at them as we pull away. They seem happy.
Our driver is not one who does things moderately. He accelerates with force---he does not tolerate slow things on the road. Children, carts, taxis, trucks, donkeys, Zebu, goats, pedestrians---all get a jarring, loud, impatient blast of the horn. When we approach a speed bump---they are in every town and village----he pounds the brakes, up and over, and then lurches forward. He is not a patient man. He is friendly enough but speaks very little English. Dresses with great pride. An impervious expression on his face. Interacts with locals often at our stops.
Fallou Ngom
This is the esteemed Fallou Ngom. Professor of Anthropology at Boston University. His specialty is Ajami, the ancient practice of writing African languages in modified Arabic script. He is the consummate teacher, but also a scholar of epic reputation. He was a big hit with our group of course. It is good to see Fallou again. He led our Fulbright-Hays group in 2016 with charisma, maturity, flair, kindness, professionalism, humor, and scholarship. It is an honor to know this fellow and to be in his company. I have learned so much from him.
Saturday, January 12
One agenda item last Saturday is titled :"Hip Hop Artists and Musicians". As some of you know, I have some familiarity with the production of live music having been in the business in the 1990s---so I am intrigued and hoping for an opportunity to share some of what is learned with my much younger students.
The roundtable is moderated by a fantastic woman named Fatou Kande Senghor---she's sort of the caretaker of the Dakar hip-hop scene---an avid promoter of all things on the cutting edge here. She jokes about now bringing her kids to shows. She brings 3 fantastic young musician/poets.
Kemit www.kemitmusic.com A tall thin fellow with faraway eyes. Thoughtful, kind and a profoundly talented musician and rapper(in French and other Senegalese dialects like Woloff). The women in our group are entranced and he takes a generous number of selfies with everyone.
Xuman Begge. This guys is already pretty famous. He has an air of infinite cool and calmness. You can find him all over Youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tajAvQYw2I
Samira: This incredible young woman is blazing all kind of trails for her gender in poetry and hip-hop here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O62_P51FL6U and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CG_XG8A5s0
They show some of their work, talk about their influences. Xuman speaks English well but the others need some help from Fatou. They are oozing musician charisma. They are kind, patient, and fascinating. I'd love to be part of helping them break out in America.
I ask a question about how they make a living. They spend a half hour on this. Their experiences mirror those of my musician friends all over the world. It is tough out there. Live performances, social media, merch sales, production, workshops, music lessons, downloads are all cobbled together so that the GEN X, millennial, and post-millenial generations can continue their soul-sucking addiction to "free" artistic content. Buy some of their music if you like it. I am.
The roundtable is moderated by a fantastic woman named Fatou Kande Senghor---she's sort of the caretaker of the Dakar hip-hop scene---an avid promoter of all things on the cutting edge here. She jokes about now bringing her kids to shows. She brings 3 fantastic young musician/poets.
Kemit www.kemitmusic.com A tall thin fellow with faraway eyes. Thoughtful, kind and a profoundly talented musician and rapper(in French and other Senegalese dialects like Woloff). The women in our group are entranced and he takes a generous number of selfies with everyone.
Xuman Begge. This guys is already pretty famous. He has an air of infinite cool and calmness. You can find him all over Youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tajAvQYw2I
Samira: This incredible young woman is blazing all kind of trails for her gender in poetry and hip-hop here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O62_P51FL6U and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CG_XG8A5s0
They show some of their work, talk about their influences. Xuman speaks English well but the others need some help from Fatou. They are oozing musician charisma. They are kind, patient, and fascinating. I'd love to be part of helping them break out in America.
I ask a question about how they make a living. They spend a half hour on this. Their experiences mirror those of my musician friends all over the world. It is tough out there. Live performances, social media, merch sales, production, workshops, music lessons, downloads are all cobbled together so that the GEN X, millennial, and post-millenial generations can continue their soul-sucking addiction to "free" artistic content. Buy some of their music if you like it. I am.
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