Although somehow fragmented, there is a very intense scholarly interest in African Studies in North America. Some groups are better organized and more active than others; some still hang on to a very colonial approach, while others have as their main goal to build bridges between academy and development efforts. The ASA, based at Rutgers, has a very good reputation. Groups that I am familiar with and recommend as reference points include the CAAS in Canada (with associated academic journal CJAS) and the African Specialty Group of the Asociation of American Geographers (which publishes the AGR). Yes, there is still much to do, but the potential is there.

One interesting resource for academics, more accessible than journals, is Africa Past and Present, a podcast about history, culture, and politics in Africa and the diaspora. Audio files can be listened to online or downloaded.

And since my interest is particularly in Senegal, I will highlight the following podcasts:

Transnational Islam, with Anthropologist Mara Leichtman.

Slavery in West African History, with Martin Klein.

Senegalese "history from below", with Ibrahima Thioub.

Amadou Bamba and the Muridiyya of Senegal (recommended reading) with author Cheikh Anta Babou.

Today is a big day: Tabaski. This is the name that Senegalese Muslims use to refer to Eid al-Adha, the Festival of Sacrifice that commemorates Prophet Ibrahim's devotion. As the story -- also present in the Old Testament and the Jewish Torah -- goes, God asked Ibrahim / Abraham to kill his son Ismail. Abraham, torn but determined to carry out God's will, covered his eyes and proceeded to fulfill the sacrifice. When he looked, he found that God had placed a sheep instead of his son. And this Muslims of all denominations commemorate all over the world in what is one of the main celebrations of Islam, which coincides with the annual pilgrimage to the Mecca, the Hajj.

So, I thought, it would be a big day for the Senegalese Muslims living in my city.

But I was wrong.

I had the pleasure to be invited to a little Tabaski celebration. My hosts where generous and kind, although they also seemed sad and disappointed for the lack of celebration. Some of my friends left Spain for Senegal in a rush last week, and one of them said: "I want to celebrate Tabaski the way it should be." Meaning, with your family, friends and neighbours in a party that lasts several days. A party so important that Wade's government had to pass laws regulating the places, number, and conditions under which animals will be sold for the sacrifice.

But those who were here had nothing to celebrate. Isolated in a quiet, non-descript building of a working-class neighbourhood somewhere in Granada, the food just made home seem farther.

A young woman knocks on the camera lense. "Hello? Hello?" This goes on for a couple of minutes, as her voice grows more and more impatient.

This is how Lara Rosenoff, a colleague at the University of British Columbia, introduces her photo essay on Beatrice, a girl living in an camp for Internally Displaced People (IDP) in Uganda. Through her pictures and texts, Beatrice and Lara's reflections on each image, moving between the personal and the public, Beatrice's private life and the political conflict that wraps her life, we are introduced into the everyday life of a young woman who

would be uncomfortable to be known only as a former child soldier. Or simply as a former abductee...or as an orphan...or as a child head of household.

Her name is Beatrice.

I could try to explain more about her photo essay, but she does a superd job at it and her words and pictures are just a click away from you, here. So I will just share a picture that I particularly like for personal reasons.

It is a picture of Beatrice in the river, washing a blue bucket. She is pregnant, and doesn't know how to tell Lara or face the consequences of her current position.

I feared looking into your eyes. I feared telling you of my child. I thought that you would quarrel with me.

I don't want to minimize the importance of this news on Beatrice's life, which we barely begin to learn about in the caption by Lara, or pretend that this picture is more important for any reason than the rest in the series. It's a personal choice. I have chosen it because it resonates with my experience: it shows one of those moments when, after months of being in a place where you don't belong, asking yourself if what you're doing is worth it, you find out the answer. This is one of those rare moments when you realize you're not on the outside anymore.