Xol bu sedd: a cold heart

Baobab Tree in Soudiane Village, Fatick, Senegal

According to ancient Chinese philosopher and writer Lao Tzu, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” But in my case, it began with one tata (form of local transport), tata number 31 to be exact. After reaching the Gare Routiere Des Baux Maraichers in Pikine (the spot to find a sept-place going just about anywhere), my interpreter Cherif Ndiaye and myself found each other and piled into a sept-place (a 7-passenger car aka station wagon) heading to Saly for 1,000cfa.

We went about 500 meters before the police stopped us. The driver stepped out of the vehicle to discuss and after 5min, everyone ended up getting out of the taxi. Apparently, the driver didn't have the right documents and wasn't supposed to be driving. These are the sort of “hiccups” that used to really bother me as I expected everything to be a certain way – but this time, I wasn't even phased, no one complained, everyone just headed back to the garage to take another car. Before I knew it, we were on the road to Saly.

From Saly we took a clando (very old beat up car that has set routes for its passengers) to Mbour (100cfc). From the garage in Mbour we took another sept-place to Nguéniène for 900cfc. By the time we reached this village, it was afternoon and time for prayers*. While I waited for my interpreter to come back from the mosque, I hung out inside a small restaurant and used my limited Wolof to chat with a woman as we peeled garlic cloves. She tried to persuade me to marry her brother, but I wasn't convinced. 

Cherif as he heads to the mosque in Nguéniène

From here we traversed across the flat, yet bumpy, barren landscape deeper into the interior of Senegal heading to Soudiane Village, Madam Marième Bamba was waiting for us.  

As the hot air further tangled my hair and there wasn’t a cement building as far as the eyes could see, I felt more content than I had in several weeks. Sometimes The bustling city of Dakar is too much for this small town Wisconsin native.

The road we were on stopped being a road and was more of a sand path which weaved between bushes and trees. Even Google Maps showed us in the middle of nowhere. We came upon small villages and just to be sure, the driver, Boubou Tall, verified we were heading in the right direction. Although I speak very little Wolof, I manage to understand quite a bit, especially through nonverbal communication. Even he wasn't exactly sure where we were heading.

Finally, we had made it! Upon arrival, we quickly greeted the entire family, which was spread throughout the large compound doing various daily chores and activities. Lunch was waiting for us, Marième had prepared ceebu ganar, rice with chicken. After some small talk, greetings, and a short introduction of me and the research I was doing, my first interview was underway.

Some of Marième's family eating and sorting through groundnuts.

The purpose was to get a better idea of who exactly Marième Bamba was, where she came from, how she got to where she was, and most importantly, her work with Tostan as a Social Mobilization Agent.

Dressed in a colorful boubou, Marième recounted her childhood to us, first sharing with us that she went to do the tradition** at the age of 8 and was married at the age of 12, against her will. One Saturday her Uncle came to her and said, “Next Monday you will be married.” She explained that in their culture, your father’s brother was like your father and therefore, he was able to tell her and not ask her.

It is tradition in Senegal that after a marriage, the woman (or girl in some cases) moves to the husband’s village, very rarely do husbands move to the wives village. She explained that when you “join your husband” sometimes your family would place a thrash-belt into your luggage so that your husband can keep you in line. She said this was something more common in the past but still seen today.

Marième remained smiling and laughing while sharing all
of these stories with us.
Truly a resilient and optimistic woman.

So at the age of 12, Marième was married to a Marabout*** and for the next several years she traveled around Senegal living in several cities as her husband worked. She gave birth to two boys before she divorced the husband at age 16. One of the children**** had died and the husband took the other without her permission and moved him to Mali – she has only seen him twice since then. She was married again two years after that and had four children (lost one) with her new husband, who she is still married to.

Shortly after Demba Diwara came to her village and sensitized the community on themes around Tostan’s curriculum (back in the mid to late 1990s), the classes started in her community and she enrolled. But soon, all of the participants had dropped out of the classes and Tostan was on the verge of leaving the community due to lack of interested. Having never attended formal school, she was worried about missing an opportunity to finally get some sort of education. Marième took matters into her own hands: she went around door to door in an attempt to convince and motivate her community members to attend the classes. She was very successful. After this, Tostan chose Marième to be one of five Social Mobilization Agent (SMA) for the Fatick region, and the rest is history.

We took a pause after about 90min of questions and story telling. Marième removed a metal plate from the top of a large calabash in the corner of the room. She offered water to Cherif and I. Although I drink Dakar water, I was warned about “village water”…I took my chances anyways. So far so good.

I am particularly interested in the work of the SMA because their method social change, or social mobilization, is much different than what we have historically seen around the world. Usually, we see one figure leading a large movement of social change that happens rather quickly. Take for example Martin Luther King or Mahatma Gandhi. These people were very well known and received celebrity status for their work. Here we have the opposite: not only are the SMAs working as a team but they are relatively unknown outside of their own communities. This slow yet impactful change is what Tostan is calling “generational change”.

I asked Marième to tell me about how being a SMA made her feel. As I said, my Wolof is limited, but I was able to pick up “xol bu sedd”. In English, this means “a cold heart” which may at first sound like a bad thing. On the contrary, in Wolof culture, it is one of the best feelings you can have. This is said about something that touches you deeply – something that makes you feel good all the way to your core, to your heart.

For Marième the objective of her work is simple: she wants to see an end to FGC (female genital cutting) in Africa. I also asked her about why the SMAs work in teams. Through translation she replied, “Because we complete each other.” She recounted a story about one time the team went to sensitize a village that did not welcome them nor their educational agenda. They accused the SMAs of being paid and wouldn't even gather for a village meeting to hear what they had to say. The team traveled a long distance to get to the village and had to spend the night sleeping in front of a small shop on the street. When in remote villages, there are no hotels, hostels, places to stay – usually SMA stay with village members but in this case, they weren't so lucky. They waited until sunrise to take a horse drawn carriage to the next village. Despite all of this, the team remained positive. They stuck together, and continued their work of organized diffusion.

She stressed the importance of being flexible and patient while working as a SMA, never forgetting the objective. She stated, “Whatever happens, it’s worth it in the end.” When asked about looking towards her hopes for her daughter’s future, she focused on education and explained that she wanted to make sure that her daughters got the kind of education she was never able to get.

After taking a family portrait, I was given a tour of the family compound and offered some attaaya. Night was coming quickly. We said our goodbyes and were on our way back to Dakar. 

Marième Bamba and Family

During the long drive back, Cherif and Boubou were discussing in Wolof, which allowed for time for ample reflection on this interview and my research. 

The landscape of baobab trees and unaccompanied children 
playing as the sun was setting made for a scenic ride home.

Landscape on our drive to and from the village

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* Senegal is about 95% Muslims. Islam is based on five pillars, one of which says they are to pray five times a day. Depending on where you are globally and the time of the year, these times change. Currently, here in Senegal prayer times are: 05:57 (suba or fajar), 13:15 (tisbaar), 16:34 (takusaan), 19:22 (timis), and 20:29 (gee). Not sure why (I will look into it), but tisbaar seems to be the most important.

** “The tradition” refers to Female Genital Cutting or FGC. This is the ritual removal of some or all of the external female genitalia. It is practiced throughout the world but mostly in African and Asian countries. It is practiced for various reasons (religious, traditional and cultural beliefs, etc) and in varying degrees. Tostan’s programs have had huge success in cutting back the rates of FGC in Senegal and surrounding countries where they also have programs.

*** A marabout is many things. He (rarely she) is a spiritual leader or guide who is sometimes believed to have the ability to see events in the future, give prescriptions on how to protect oneself from the evils of the world (known as gris-gris), and help people attain certain goals in their life. They are sometimes seen more as a sort of doctor and less of a spiritual leader and other times they are purely someone who follows and teaches the Quran. A piece in the NY Times does a great job telling a story about his experience with one type of marabout in Mali. This is definitely a topic I will write more about in another blog post as a paragraph isn’t enough.

**** When counting your children in Wolof culture you never call them children. Doom in Wolof means son or daughter but you will never ask how many children a person has, or tell someone how many children you have by using the word doom. You will call them banti maam yalla, which literally translates to “God’s bits of wood” Why? Because people are worried that if they count their children and call them children that something bad will happen, notably evil spirits will come to possess and kill the child. In Senegal, and in many parts of Africa, there is a very strong appreciation for and fear of the spiritual world. This is something that is very hard for many foreigners to understand and is at times even ignorantly mocked by them. Don't do this. Do not write off what you do not know and understand. “God’s bits of wood” is also the name of a book written by Ousmane Sembène (arguably the most famous Senegalese author and film director). I have yet to read the book but I’m sure its great, it's a Senegalese classic!

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And finally to end, as promised, another Wolof proverb:

"Jàngi na nuyoo"

Literally: "She went to learn how to greet"

Greetings are so important in Senegal and Wolof culture that you must do them pretty much before doing or ask anything. The proverb above is the answer you might get if you ask for someone without first greeting the person to whom you are asking the question.

In the next few weeks, you can look forward to:

1. More personal stories on Social Mobilization Agents;

2. My trip to Kolda for field observations, including a village sensitization visit;
3. A cultural festival in Thiès!