Kindness Shattering Bias in Senegal

by Alexandra Mosher (United States of America)

Making a local connection Senegal

“You can’t have an authentic relationship with Senegalese people, they only want you for your money.” It was one of the first ideas I was introduced to during my three-month-long stint in Dakar, Senegal. I was there to teach English to the son of French and Belgian ex-pats in the West African coastal city but my true desire was to know Senegal. Not through the lives of foreigners, but through the lives of the Senegalese. So I tried with all my might to fight their bias with ideas of people being inherently good but try as I might, the family made my best efforts feel as though I was only a stereotypical American girl experiencing Africa for the first time. So there I was, stuck with this toxic thought that framed every experience I had with the local people. It oozed into all of my interactions, into every kind gesture, and effectively blockaded any warm and fuzzy feelings created by genuine hospitality from entering my soul. But I would find my antidote among the sand-laden streets of Saint Louis. Their names would be Alioune and Anna and their pure hearts would suck the burden of prejudice from me. Four hours north of Dakar, Saint Louis was the former capital of the French colony before the country gained its independence in 1960. Colorful and sometimes crumbling colonial buildings trace the city’s narrow roads. And it was on my second day in this UNESCO World Heritage Site that I met Alioune. “You’re just sitting here alone?” He said in French. Peering at the slightly older Senegalese man from behind my sunglasses, my bias rose up in me with suspicion. “Yes, but I enjoy being alone,” I replied. My bias sighed a breath of relief, “Good idea, protect yourself.” “Well I’m from Saint Louis and if you want I can show you around.” I hesitated but the grumbling in my stomach spoke for me, “I am hungry, can you show me a good place to eat?” “Absolutely!” he said with a smile, warm like the arid landscape surrounding us. And then that whisper, “But what does he want in exchange?” I shoved my skepticism aside to enjoy the present adventure with Alioune. Later, as he was showing me what looked like a mom and pop restaurant, the Islamic call for prayer rang out over the low buildings. “Don’t let me stop you.” I said more out of courtesy than permission. “I can show you around tonight as well if you’re not doing anything.” My bias was getting weaker with every passing moment that the gentle man did not ask me for anything. “No I’m not doing anything,” I said with an appeased smile. “I’d like that.” Moments later, Anna would stop me on the side of the street. “I love your dress.” She said to me. “Merci,” I said as she stopped to have a conversation with me. “Does she want something?” We proceeded to have a very pleasant conversation and then she offered to show me around that evening. I was shocked. Why are these people so kind and what are their motivations? When would they show? “I’d like that,” I said. Hours later, the bustle of the night called me out of my hotel to where Alioune and Anna were waiting for me like old friends. We strolled about the town, Alioune on one side and Anna on the other as they excitedly pointed out everything they could possibly think of from fruits, to bats in the sky, to significant buildings and small children inside a Koranic school. Then they asked me if I’d like to take a chariot ride, which was basically a few wooden boards nailed together on wheels, drawn by a slim-looking horse. “Yes absolutely!” I said, having the time of my life. I reached for my wallet but Anna stopped me. “No please, allow me,” She said as she pulled out a small coin purse from her pocket. Like a glass shattering on the ground because the person holding it had been startled, my prejudice lay in shards. I took a deep breath, allowing the kindness to soak in and boarded the chariot with a grin.