I'm becoming a huge fan of Senegalese music.There's a culprit: the guy behind the counter at the Teranga Music store in Saint Louis. He's right on the island and has a very small, yet exquisitely selected, collection of music. He's also very knowledgeable, happy at all times to share stories and anecdotes with whoever happens to enter the store. A real discovery.

This guy, whose name is either Oumar or Ismael (I met them both at the same time) produced from behind his counter at least two compilations that I can't stop playing: one by Bembeya Jazz National (Guinea) and another one by Orchestra Baobab (Senegal, see info in wikipedia & World Music Central). Orchestra Baobab's history seems to me to be very closely tied to the history of the country itself, and so I keep on reading about them and at the same time learning about Senegal.

The band appeared in 1970, when a new club opened in Dakar (the Baobab club). In an attempt to compete with its main rival at the moment, the Miami Club, the newborn business recruited some of the musicians from the Star Band, up until that moment resident of the Miami. This was the Dakar of the 1970s: a city right on top of the wave, with an incredibly strong cultural life in the realms of cinema, literary production, and, of course, cinema, under the auspices of post-independence President of the Republic, philosopher, and poet: L.S.Senghor. This was the Dakar that some directors encapsulated so well in movies such as The Journey of the Hyena, by D.D. Mambety.

The musicians in this initial period of the band had different ethnic and national backgrounds: the two singers were from Casamance, a beautiful region in Southern Senegal (Balla Sidibe and Rudy Gomis); the guitarist was from Togo (Barthelemy Attisso). These formed the core of the band. Then, there was also Wolof griot singer Laye Mboup, Moroccan guitarist Latfi Benjeloum, Casamançais bass Charlie NDiaye, and Manlinkés Mountage Koite and Issa Cissoko, saxo. It has been brought to my attention that ethnic groups in Senegal may not have the significance that Westerners usually attribute to it. However, in this case I bring it up precisely because I think the Orchestra Baobab supports that argument. Also, this mix of origins and musical traditions is said to be the secret of the band. They re-interpreted Cuban music in their own way, mixing it with Western African percussion and griot musical styles. The result is a beautifully composed music with an unmistakable Caribbean flavor, where Attisso's guitar stands up without getting in the way.

After the 1970s came the 1980s. The Baobab Club closed it doors. It was a time of transition for Senegal and a difficult period for Casamance, where a few of the musicians came from. In the political realm there was a new government led by A. Diouf (today general secretary of the Organisation International de la Francophonie). Economically, it was the beginning of a crisis that would result in the collapse of the two main sectors of the Senegalese economy, peanuts and fishing. This, in turn, would lead to a major restructuring of the country's economy in the mid 1990s -- one of those wonderful S.A.P.s (structural adjustment plans) promoted by the FMI et al. And last but not least, the war started in Casamance, hitting some of the musicians' families.

Little by little, the members of the Baobab Orchestra disbanded. They had recorded more than 20 albums (their impressive discography is here). By 1987 it seemed they had become part of Senegalese history, but in 2001 they got back together upon insistence from Nick Gold, director of music label World Circuit, and Yossou N'dour. They played in London. After a very successful tour, they recorded their last album to date: Made in Dakar.

But enough words, enter three songs. Here, their famous song "Lua ka ta kema" (The moon does not burn, otherwise known as Utrus Oras), a cover of the song composed in 1972 by José Carlos Schwarz, from Guinea-Bissau and recorded by Orchestra Baobab in 1982. The language is creole.

More upbeat is the following song, Ndeleng Ndeleng, from his last album "Made in Dakar" (2001).

The absolutely Cuban Cabral will serve to wrap up this entry :o)

It's almost impossible to talk about Senegal without talking about Yossou Ndour. In 2004 the magazine Rolling Stone described him as one of the most famous singers alive, but that's only part of the story.

Nobody doubts that Yossou Ndour is an exceptional musician. Throughout his career (he first performance was at 12, and he's now 50) he has managed to make mbalax known around the world. He's revolutionized Senegalese music and taken it with him wherever he goes -- which is, basically, everywhere. But beyond the music, he's been a world-class political figure: according to Time Magazine (2007) he's also one of the 100 most influential people in the world. He's gotten involved in political movements such as the one to free Nelson Mandela in the 1980s, participated with Amnesty International, or worked with the UN and UNICEF, among others. Also, since 2001 Ndour has been involved in the Joko Project, which he described in a 2005 interview:

Joko is (...) designed to create internet access in rural regions, and to give local residents the chance to learn internet skills and to create a business. We give them the chance to open internet cafes called ‘Joko Club’, which are part of a national network. There, they can conduct training, teach people the use of the internet, sell products via the web, operate telephone lines — there are many possibilities. It’s a way of increasing employment and training in the remote regions of Senegal.

In domestic politics, he's unavoidable. He has no problem talking openly about prickly issues such as clandestine migration (in his song Tukki), the Massamba Seck affair, religion, Panafricanism, or poligamy.

But to know something and feel it are two different things. And even though all these things were in my head as I walked up the stairs of the Escenario de Puerta del Ángel last Tuesday, it was moving to see him alive. To hear him. To dance to his music. It was incredible. After the first song everyone in the crowd was dancing. We danced for about two hours, and three times (3!!) we made the band (10 musicians and 3 dancers) come back on stage. People were happy when we came in, many in their beautifully embroided boubous. And we were happier and sweatier when we walked out. So happy.

I don't know if it's just me, but I had the feeling that the many Senegalese in the audience felt much more entitled to be (t)here because Ndour was up on stage, making all of us move, dance, laugh and sing at his will. He talked about Africa, he made us all answer to his Salaam Aleikum, he laughed and smiled a smile whiter than his white boubou.

Music can indeed be powerful.

Uy .... (she laughs). I always thought abou migrating. Always, always. Because look, I've always loved travelling. And since I was a little girl, I wanted to marry a white man, no matter where he was from. Think about it: I grew up in Saly. My grandfather was a fisherman and my grandmother (who raised me) prepared the fish to sell it. I always went to my grandmother to sell the fish, and there I would start talking with the tourists. We were children. The tourists would always give us something: a bit of money, some candies, and I asked them to take me to their county, because I thought if that's what they give me, they must have a lot of money!! Well, that's children stuff, you know. (...)

When I was older two of my neighbours were modou-modou (emigrants). Since they had left, their houses had all this fancy furniture, their families ate well everyday, they had several wives who all had the most beautiful boubous. And you should have seen their cars when they came home for holidays. So I thought that once you get to Europe everything's easy, money falls off your pockets, it's easy to find a job. Or maybe you don't make heaps of money, but whatever it is, it's more than enough for your family in Senegal.There were so many things that they had and we didn't. If we needed anything, we knocked on their door. Some bread, a bag of powder milk, things we didn't have. So I thought, those Europeans must be dirt rich: I must go there to become rich as well!! (she laughs). (...)

[Migrating to Europe) was the dream of my life. But now that I am here, I've had it. I don't want anymore of this, because Spain is not what I thought it would be. I wish I had never gotten on that boat. Never.

(Fragments from a 5 hour interview with LH7)

Almost two years ago, I discovered this little treasure in Elia's blog (her original entry, in Spanish, is here). Since then I've watched it several times, always feeling bad for not being able to share it with more people because the subtitles were in Spanish. It turns out I didn't look hard enough!! Here you have it, not exactly fresh from the oven but still enjoyable.

The movie is about 25 minutes long. Directed by Javier Fesser, it is one of five documentaries included in the collection En el mundo a cada rato, produced by Tus ojos in collaboration with UNICEF, Renfe (Spanish Railway Company) and TVE (Spanish public TV). It shows how Binta, a 7-year-old girl, helps her dad write a very important letter. At the same time, they try to help her cousin Soda convince her father that girls also should receive an education.

This little tale made it all the way to Hollywood but never won the Oscar award. Don't work too hard looking for its shortcomings, just enjoy! :o)

Q: How can you tell this movie has been made in Northern Casamance?

A: Because the answer to the question: "Kasoumai?" (sp??) is "Kasoumai kepp", and not "Kasoumai baré." (please note that I learnt this phonetically, so this may be misspelled.)

Those who've been to Gambia or Senegal will recognize it immediately. It is a kind of music that blends traditional instruments from Western Africa with guitars, trumpets, and electronic music (for a history of the genre, see here). Its main trait is that very busy rythm so hard to get rid of. In Dakar it's everywhere: markets, bars, night clubs, cabs. Many, specially women, dance it wherever they are, moving according to the last fade in mbalax dancing -- even for this there are trends. The music is said to be primarily Wolof, but it seems to me that it is now everyone's music, thanks to, among others, Youssou N'Dour, Titi, Thione Seck, Ismaël Lô, Omar Pene o Coumba Gawlo Seck. Most of these musicians are from minority ethnic groups (= not wolof).

During my brief stay in Senegal, *the* move of the season was a lateral 2-step. You can see a practical example in the video below, made for the song Maana by Fallou Dieng. I have lost track of how many times I have danced this song trying to emulate the women around me (the results were always disapointing). But, together with this elegant and somehow arrogant move, one always finds a more traditional dancing style. A serer friend called it "the ass-breaker dance" for reasons that will become evident after watching that video (pay attention after minute 3).

Yes, this is what a posh nightclub in Dakar looks like a saturday night. However, and from my very humble point of view, what really caught my attention was to see women with their long skirts dancing Mbalax "sabar style" (sabar is, at the same time, an instrument, a kind of music, and a dancing style). Want to see what I am talking about? The video below, made by a Dutch student, explains a bit the whats, whos and whys of sabar.

And, in case someone still wants more music, below you will find a version of No Woman, no Cry by Titi.

More!? Two recommendations: Femme Objet by Coumba Gawlo or a more "western" tune by Yossou Ndour, here. Dancing time!! :o)

PS: If you see any mistakes in this entry, please let me know. I'm trying to learn more about mbalax :o)

Someone really likes products with funny names. So when I went to a gas station in Ouakam, Dakar, a while ago and saw this ... well, I had to take a picture of it :o)

If anybody knows what Wonderfam Affection may (not) mean, please let me know, because I see no connection with Danish butter cookies. Hmmm....

Note: see the cookies right beside? They're Spanish. Not a single cookie made in Senegal in the whole store.

We're hearing a lot about the plight of (mostly Sub Saharan) migrants, asylum seekers, and refugees in transit countries like Morocco or Lybia these days. It won't come as a surprise: the European Union is externalizing border control to countries who have not shown the slighest interest in things like human rights or Geneva conventions. And as long as they keep the unwanted ones out of our waters, our islands, our neighbourhoods, the EU will keep not only overlooking these abuses, but even encouraging them through more and more assistance (development aid, military training, preferential trade agreements). A sad but well-known fact: some human's rights are more important than other's.

So while waiting for better news (of which there are many waiting to be posted) take a deep breath and get ready for more from Berlusconi, Lord of the Dark side of immigration policy. The news are not that new (almost two months old) but they're worth some thought. Have you ever heard non-refoulement? It's refers to the protection of refugees from being returned to places where their physical security or freedom may be at risk. Or, in 1951 legal wording:

No Contracting State shall expel or return ("refouler") a refugee in any manner whatsoever to the frontiers of territories where his life or freedom would be threatened on account of his race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion.

Guess what: Italy signed this convention. Lybia did not.

The principle of non-refoulement has become one of the corner stones of international humanitarian law since the Geneva Convention in 1951. It was originally applied to refugees alone, but these days, with mass "voluntary" repatriations at the borders of Europe, it had also become a rule of thumb for undocumented migrants. Some countries have broken the rule (see Spain in late 2005 in Ceuta and Melilla), but they did it under the table like a child who doesn't want her mum to know she's broken a 1,000 $ Chinese vase. Well, maybe that's no longer the case. We've witnessed an increased disregard of the principle of non-refoulment for refugees and migrants alike. And one of the few fully documented cases is this, by François de Labarre and Enrico Dagnino from Paris Match (part 1 & part 2, in French). The video below shows how 79 migrants on their way to Italy are sent back to Lybia wihtout any kind of review procedure (often there are legitimate asylum seekers, children, and pregnant women in the boats) on what has been called "the first Frontex-led forced repatriation of migrants at sea".

Via Fortress Europe & Statewatch News.

Next time, good news. Promised!

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.