Diewol

So good to be connected with you all again!!! I have internet in Louga, but usually the cost and the frustration involved with trying to use a local internet connection is too much to bear-- plus I really have been busy with work, which has prevented me from getting to the internet cafes during their opening hours. So here I am back in Thies ready to start training again. All of the volunteers in my group have only been at site about 10 weeks but are already so changed!! The people from really far south have become pirates, the people from pulaar regions have taken on strange walks and interests in livestock... I could go on. thies feels big and bustling even compared to my busy town.

An interesting weekend past that I would love to share-- it is a bit complicated, so please bear with me.
Senegal is primarily Muslim- 95%, remaining Senegalese are Catholic or animist. The kind of Islam practiced here is a bit difficult to describe because it is based on brotherhoods as well as the teachings of spiritual leaders. In addition the fact that Islam was introduced and then the spread of colonialism hundreds of years later has led to a real mixing of legends, stories, myths.
I've participated in several religious ceremonies over the last few months, but this one last weekend was a big one.
So it's called Diewol, and it is specific to the brotherhood to which my family belongs. My mom here in Senegal is really involved with her religious group so I knew I needed to go and participate. The communication barrier between myself and my mom always presents some challenges-- she is amazing, but is really hard-core Wolof-- and speaks it so fast with such an old-lady slur that even her own children don't quite understand. So any way, she told me we were going, and I was okay with that, no questions asked.
Only after arriving at the Diewol (an empty clearing in the desert marked only by an empty well and a rusted sign at the side of a disintegrating road) did I learn the particular significance of Diewol. Apparently it is a really big deal, people come from all over the country in a pilgrimage to the place where their Grand Marabout once spent the night. I was actually quite impressed with the operation-- thousands of Senegalese came from all over, piling their food and enormous iron pots, tents and even livestock on top of fragile-looking buses we call Alhams ( they all have Allxamdulilah painted on the front, which is an Arabic blessing and seems to be an eerie prayer for survival when riding in aforementioned public transport). So anyway, thousands of rural, hyper religious Senegalese gather in the desert, far from anyone around, for what? I was asking myself the same thing-- then I got more explanation than I every could have wanted. The following is a conglomeration of the many different versions I heard over the weekend, you get to pick your favorite options just like a Choose Your Own Adventure.
So the marabout lived in Touba when the Tubabs (French colonizers, white people) came to the city called St. Louis-- this is late 1800s. The tubabs called the marabouts from all over the country to come to st. louis, an order from Charles de Gaulle. Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba refused to come from Touba because he said his god had not ordered him to come. So de Gaulle said he would send his soldiers to get him. So C.A.B. asked god what to do and god said he should go. So he left with all of his followers. While in transit he met the tubabs in teh desert at Diewol, he asked god what to do, god responded stay the night and pray. So all the followers stayed the night. During the night the colonizers dug a well but found no water, then the marabout found water. Then he encountered the devil (which I believe is somehow equated to the tubab) and cast him out of the desert. Then the Angel Gabriel came to him. Then the colonizers put him in the well, but he got out. and the end.

well, that's what I got out of it. Anyway, turns out I was naturally the only Tubab among all of these believers at Diewol-- well cared-for by my family, but that doesn't make it any less weird-- I was a real fascination for all people present, especially in my traditional Wolof attire.
Then I was asked to speak on the documentary that was being produced (on handheld ancient video camera with half-broken flood light) about what it felt like to be present at Diewol. My Senegalese mother coaching me from the side "Tubab bi dafa mettiwoon, wante leegi baaxna" (tubabs used to be difficult, but now they are good), which I dutifully repeated into the camera and then hung my head in shame.

Then we stayed up all night and blasted prayers through burnt out speakers into the desert until the dawn prayer-- then we went home. Oh yes, and my whole family who came to attend the celebration? They were there until curiously shortly after dark when they almost all split.... very tricky....

but still I was very glad I went-- my senegalese mom (and my American mom) set an example to live by. She took the best care of me, and welcomed hundreds of virtual strangers into our makeshift home to feed them and give them a place to sleep and then managed to stay up all night to pray-- quite a cultural experience.

man, writing one story just wears me out... is this good for now? hopefully I will get another one in soon