He is 35 and has been in Spain at least since 2004. He never thought that Yossou Ndour, one of the most popular Senegalese singers, would talk about him in the Second Conference on International Cooperation for development that took place this week in Dakar (commentary on this event by Madame Toubab here -- in Spanish). Or that he would create a diplomatic crisis between the Spanish and Senegalese governments. But, thanks to a video by Spanish-based Senegalese producer Lamine Mbene, he has.

For most people, the Massamba Seck affair started on June 16th, when a video where Massamba was forced to get into a plane in Madrid to be deported to Dakar appeared in several news channels, blogs, and online newspapers. It was not clear who he was or why he was treated like that, and as the contradictions increased (particularly regarding his involvement in criminal activities in Spain) his case became more and more famous. Few sources approached the people involved directly (with exceptions such as P+HD and Xibar.net). In the meanwhile, the issue grew into an IR quasi crisis. The Association of European Immigration Lawyers filed a complaint. The Spanish Embassy in Dakar wrote a press release complaining that the controversial video "shows only part of the incident and omits the first part of the episode, where the man (expulsé) refuses to embarque in the plane and resists violently to the police" (source here). The Senegalese Minister of Justice, in a show of concern for his co-nationals abroad that the members of his government should exercise more often, vowed to protect the rights of Mr. Seck and Lamine Mbene. And now Youssou Ndour also has something to say in front of the magnificiently pampered attendants of the Second Conference on International Cooperation for development.

But there are many, many cases of people who go through similar deportation procedures, so why should Massamba's case receive any particular attention? Maybe it's worth stepping back for a few moments to consider Massamba Seck's story, because it's about time we put migrants' story in context. Massamba Seck was born to a Serer Mouride family in Diourbel, the largest town in the region of the same name (and the only one with an ATM, BTW). His family moved to the rural community of Darou Mousty when Massamba was very young. There his parents became a referent for the community due to their involvement in the local school (they were both teachers) and in the local branch of the Mouride brotherhood. In fact, Massamba's family has very good connections with the Senegalese political-religious elites, which may be why his case has received so much support from the Senegalese government.

What makes this case interesting is that Massamba Seck is all that uncodumented migrants are not supposed to be. If there is middle class in Senegal (and there may not be), his family is. All the kids went to school. Both mum and dad worked until their retirement. They have a pension that is not too good, but they manage to make ends meet with the money that one of their daughters sends from the US, where she is a successful Fatu-Fatu (the female equivalent of a Modou-Modou, or successful migrant who lives in a Western country and returns to Senegal only in vacations with a lot of money). Massamba's story proves that migration is not a business for poverty-ridden and backward-minded people whose hopelessness pushes them to risk their lives through the one and only available means: the pirogue.

But, alas, from the moment Massamba Seck got on that pirogue (or cayuco, as they call these fishermen boats in Spanish) he became simply a paperless migrant. His background dissappeared. And what is he now? He's black. He's poor. He's male. He came on a boat. He was a peddler selling CDs and because of that he got arrested by the police. He is a backward Muslim who abused his girlfriend and because of that he was taken to the police. He did not have the papers and because of that he spent a month in detention and then they tried to sent him back to that country where he came from. He resisted and because of that they kicked him, handcuffed him, and taped shut his mouth. Now, he's been shaped into the perfect undesirable migrant.

But unfortunately for the Spanish side of the official story, he's not. Unfortunately, his family and political connections don't think the same. And even worse, Youssou Ndour seems to have chosen the Massamba Seck's affair as his new PR campaign.

Not that long ago, I took a close somebody to visit my tailor in Guediawaye, Dakar. We were close to the Lycée Limamoulaye, certainly not the richest part of grand Dakar, some 2 hours from downtown traffic allowing. Lamine (the tailor) had his workshop right in the middle of the market. I could barely hold my excitement -- I had visitors, and a few families had invited us over for dinner. To make a long story short, I guess I walked a little too fast through the very narrow, filthy, and badly ventilated passages inside the market. When I turned around my companions were grabbing each others' arms for life dear, and the palest one said in a high pitch voice: "Please don't walk so fast, I'm afraid if we lose you they will put us in a pot and eat us alive."

I was not surprised to hear this, since the first thing I did every morning was to fight my adoptive sisters and their very sharp forks right outside my bedroom door.

Jokes aside, a few minutes later, he actually asked me to get them out of there in the first taxi, and I had to cancel the many activities I had planned for their entertainment that evening: a dinner with my adoptive family (they thought my house was disgusting), a wrestling match (they thought the stadium was disgusting), and some more socializing around (I guess they thought my friends were disgusting as well). What a disappointment. They thought everything I liked was revolting and scary. But how could that have happened? We've always been such good friends!! We've spent so much time together, we've read so many books together, danced so many songs together, watched so many movies together!! I remember for example when we watched Indiana Jones, oh, our beloved Indy with his brimmed hat and shiny little eyes, whip hanging from a side to keep under control those little wicked-looking colored people, some of which ate hearts from living humans. Or wait, that super cool movie, King Solomon's Mines. Now that's a classic including some pot and human cooking action!! Those good old times of popcorn and brave white men who could always avoid being devoured by the savage peoples. Sigh. Now that I think about it, no wonder my companion felt intimidated being one of the only three whites in a sea of blackness: he had forgotten his whip at home (although he remembered to bring the hat and the Coronel Tapioca jacket).

Via funkhundd

Anyways. I couldn't help thinking of this person yesterday when I read the news. It was with big pleasure that I sent him a link to this article, published recently in several African newspapers and titled: Les premiers Européens auraient été cannibales -- the first Europeans ate human flesh. And the remains that confirmed this were precisely in Northern Spain, the place where this person comes from. They found some human-sized pots in the area as well.*

In the subject line, a reminder: "humans for dinner today -- just like in the good old times!"

* This part is not true, I admit. But the rest in this post is.

Going alone to the cinema can barely be classified as a forbidden pleasure, but if the amount of joy derived from it was proportional to its degree of perversion it should be the first of the 8 (no longer 7) deadly sins. At least some movies have that effect.

The Journey of the Hyena is quite likely not a very good movie for contemporary standards: it lacks the rythm, the plot, the dialogue, and the post-production that would make it so. The Journey of the Hyena is purely a product from the 70s -- hippies, drugs, bell bottom pants and all included. The pace is set from the very first moment via the smoky voice of Josephine Baker singing (caressing)the beauties of Paris, the ever present main character of the story. "Paris, Paris, Paris" -- she sings -- "you're paradise on earth." And slowly but surely the two main characters weave a series of unlikely plots in order to reach it.

It is strange how timely some movies can be. The director could not possibly have anticipated the echoes that this story, essentially a story on the longing to migrate to Europe and the cleavage between different generations of Senegalese, would have right now. Yet that same longing, that "I'm going to Europe no matter what" attitude, as if "Europe" was the solution to all problems on Earth, remains present in the Dakar of today. The solution that is more an escape than an answer. Paris, Paris, Paris, the song keeps on playing, under the scorching song, over the water of a sea that feeds the illusion.

I liked the story. I liked its pace, so French, so unique, so Godard. And yet it is much more than a French movie, it is (from this humble perspective) one hundred percent Senegalese. An amazing work of cross-cultural syncretism for $30,000 in 1973 featuring nudity, animal cruelty, long silences, and broken dreams. Definitely not everyone's cup of tea.

But what I enjoyed the most about the movie is the way it sinks into the streets and spaces of Dakar. Having spent the last two and a half months licking its misery, I found it painful to see what I already knew: that the Dakar of the 1970s much better off than the Dakar of 2009. My jaw dropped when I saw the Square of the Independence, now a dilapidated sort of public space, in its splendor. The cars running on the city's freshly painted streets were the same that one can find today -- same models, same license plates -- only 40 years younger and with doors that didn't belong to any other car before. This was the time when Senegal, and particularly Dakar, was the shining star of West Africa, with the best university, the best port, the best everything. So many things have changed, and yet, not surprisingly, the heartache remains: all means are legitimate if the end is on the other side of the ocean.

Or so it seems.

After the unavoidable marriage offer, the taxi drops me at Thiaroy-sur-mer, a neighbourhood of Grand Dakar. Once off the “highway” nothing is paved. On the street the goats eat the trash and the donkeys carry material for the many construction sites. The children swarm the car when we stop in front of the Collectif des Femmes en Lutte Contre l’immigration clandestine, where Mme Diouf works. She’s a celebrity in Thiaroy-sur-mer, Dakar, Senegal, and well beyond, as the pictures pinned on the walls of the office show (just to give you an idea, Mme Diouf is shaking hands with Segolene Royal in one of them). What follows is an abridged version of our interview, but for those interested much has been written on the group’s activities on the internet.

L: Thanks very much for receiving me. To begin with, could you please talk a bit about the work of the collectif, and the reasons why you decided to organize?

A group of us organized after we lost our children, who had taken the pirogues to cross the Atlantic and reach Europe. We started in 2006. The pirogues were taking undocumented migrants to Spain before, but it was in late 2005 and early 2006 that the issue became more poignant.

L: And why Spain has become such a favourite destination?

Because Spain is the bridge between Africa and Spain. It’s the closest European territory.

L: What pushes people to leave Senegal to go to Europe?

Here there is no work, there is no company that will employ them, the fishing industry is not as good as it used to be and the agricultural sector is not working. It’s the economic situation of the country.

L: But is it just about money? Because I hear very often that “to be a man one has to go to Europe”…

Yes, people here think that Europe is ElDorado, that here there’s no work, but as soon as they arrive in Europe they’ll find a job and have money right away – with that they’ll get the respect they seek. That’s why we’re working on a documentary to show, here, how immigrants really live in Europe. It’s a campaign to break with that unrealistic image that people here have of Europe. We want to show it to those who want to leave so that they know.

L: And why do you think there is such an image of Europe?

Because of colonisation: we were colonized by Europe, and people always have an inferiority complex, we feel that we are an under developed country. We have no resources: no iron, no diamonds … and through tv we see the show, the luxury of Europe, and people think that the answer to poverty is to go to Europe to look for a job.

L: And what about the modou-modou? (Senegalese emigrants)

Yes, I know of Senegalese emigrants who get loans so that they can show off when they come to Senegal for holidays. But they don’t talk about what really happens in Europe. We want these people to say the truth, that Europe is not what we think it is, but they are scared: they want to look good, they want people to think that they are smart and rich. That is why we really need to work on informing those who want to migrate of the reality of migration. Then, together with this we need to provide alternatives, here at the association we need to show that we can create jobs. Here we also finance initiatives to show that it is possible to succeed here, that business is possible also in Thiaroy-sur-mer.

L: These are women who have lost their sons at sea. Is there any woman in your association who has lost a daughter?

Women don’t usually travel by pirogue. The few that do are pregnant women who hope that by having their child in Europe, she / he will have the nationality and they will be allowed to stay. But really, women are a very small portion of those who leave by pirogue, because here their duty is to stay at home. This is a patriarchal community, and it’s men who make the decisions. Women are subdued. In that sense, this association is quite exceptional, because we don’t put up with that kind of domination.

L: Yes, I really can’t understand it, because when I visit families it’s always the women who are working to keep their families afloat – it’s them who do the housework, who go to the market to sell, who cook, who do the laundry by hand … but they don’t seem to have any saying, even when they’re actually providing what their husbands should provide according to traditional gender roles.

No, they don’t have any saying, nobody listens to them. Most people who migrate illegally do so supported by their mothers (note: this may be specific to Thiaroy-sur-mer, because research has showed this is not always the case). It’s the mother who pays for the trip, who sells their jewellery so that their sons can get on a pirogue. Because if the son succeeds in Europe, he’s going to be a pride and support for the whole community and thus for their mothers – it is a great honour to have a successful emigrant son. But if he does not succeed, if he dies at sea, people are going to say that the mother was cursed: the family is not going to take her. Even the President of the Republic has put the responsibility on this women, which is simply not fair. That’s why they’re encouraged to pay for their son’s trip, so that they’ll be respected by the community.

L: But then about half the people who leave disappear or die at sea.

That’s why we created the organization, to show women that they should not finance their sons’ trip.

L: So you really are proposing almost to change the culture, the mentality of the people.

It’s not about changing the culture, but to bring about change little by little, through a pacific revolution, so that people will start thinking differently. From within the community, little by little. And always working with people. If it’s not that way, we can’t succeed, because it’s a very cohesive community here. To work here one has to work not only on issues related to emigration, but also with health, genital mutilation, literacy, domestic violence … Things that happen here and are directly related to the problem that we want to solve.

L: So for you, the status of women in Senegalese society and illegal migration are …

Intertwined. Especially in fishing communities like the one in this neighbourhood, they’re very conservative. We work here at Thiaroy-sur-mer but also at Ouakam, Yoff – they’re all very similar.

L: And do you think that there are well organized groups behind this kind of migration, with the pirogues?

Well, yes, it’s somehow organized. It’s usually someone who has their own money to pay for the construction of a pirogue, then other people who go out searching clients, others who deal with the gasoline, the food … So there is some structure. In 2007 I heard of 2 traffickers who were in prison, and I heard they were people from my own community. I thought, I need to go talk to them. I went to talk to them and they joined the association – one of them is the person who gathers the mussels that the women then smoke, package, and sell. He trafficked people, he was the one who used to convince people to get in the pirogues.

L: You’ve really managed to get the support of very unlikely people: a trafficker, a marabout, a wrestler, singers …

Yes, during Ramadan one has to listen to everything that the marabout says, so I managed to get the support of a marabout who, during Ramadan, explained to people what the Coran says about such risky travels (note: some people think that migration is something of a holy enterprise, and that they will go to paradise if they die at sea). And those who were thinking about migrating were discouraged, because it was the marabout who said it, who said the Coran does not encourage migration, that they will not go to paradise if they die in the pirogue. Then about the wrestler, here in Senegal wrestling (“la lutte”) is the national sport. So, we organized a combat with a prize, and we took advantage of the occasion to talk to people and try to discourage them from migrating. One has to get such people with authority within the community to change the mentality of people.

L: And what do you think of the militarization of the border?

I am absolutely against it. Totally against FRONTEX. Because if we had just told them those young people the truth, they wouldn’t have left. One needs to speak the truth, find alternatives, talk to people, organize them, engage in a dialogue. That is the only solution, because they really know the problem and are the only ones who can solve it. But FRONTEX … well, that’s the state. That’s the way they work.