Senegal responding to the pandemic

Given the way things have developed, you won't be surprised to read that I didn't get back to Touba - indeed the Kazu Rajab was cancelled, along with all other religious pilgrimages for the next month, and indeed all gatherings of more than 50 people.  Which includes the gathering of the faithful at Friday prayers.

The power of the Mourides, which I mentioned in my previous post, came to the fore briefly as the government put in place measures to react to the pandemic.  A handful of imams ignored the ban on Friday prayers at the mosque (indeed one made a public pronouncement that matters of life and death are in the hands of God and not for man to try to interfere with!).  Video footage from Yoff, in the northern suburbs of Dakar, went viral - where the police went in to arrest the imam, and the faithful rioted (well, watching the footage, I'd say the bored, unemployed, young men rioted...) - but it was noticeable that no police dared to enter the Great Mosque in Touba, where prayers also went ahead.  Despite Touba being the place with the most cases in the country.

It was a delicate moment, I guess, but there were conversations behind-the-scenes, and the leading lights in the various brotherhoods here have now all endorsed the government's approach.  This was another moment when I felt quite proud of this country.

It will be fascinating to see how they deal with the coronavirus.  So far we have some 120 cases, nearly a quarter of which originated from one man - a "Modou-Modou", the term used here for Senegalese who emigrate to Europe, especially Italy, where the majority go.  He returned to visit his family in Touba, and seems to have been one of the super-spreaders, I think.  Poor guy was interviewed in hospital and said how embarrassed and ashamed he felt to have brought the virus in.  I'm not the only white resident of Senegal who feels a little relieved at this, so unlike in a couple of other countries in the region we are not (at the moment anyway) being targeted by angry locals as 'virus-carriers'.

The government here should have shut the airport earlier, as so many cases have been brought in, but they left it too late as we have already reached the stage of community transmissions (although only a handful as yet), meaning the virus has spread beyond the chain of known contacts.  So what does the government of country such as this do, at this stage?  They have banned large gatherings, they have shut schools, national parks, theatres, etc, they have drastically restricted the number of people allowed in a vehicle at one time so as to enforce social distancing there (and all bus passengers are supposed to wear one of those stupid masks!) - and they have introduced a night-time curfew, from 8pm until 5am.  Of course these measures will help, but the virus does not go to sleep during daylight hours when people are still out-and-about.

However, the consequences of a daytime lockdown are scary.  Many people here (I'm sure I read somewhere 60%) live from day-to-day, that is, they earn enough in a day to buy food for the next day - and that is all.  They have no savings, no cupboard full of stockpiled food, no access to credit, and there is no social welfare system - that's one of the main reasons the birthrate is so high, as your children are your insurance policy for when you get too old/infirm to go out each day hustling to earn money somehow.  So a lockdown means that either these people starve, or we get serious social unrest.  Plus any cutback in activity (including the current effective closure of restaurants, bars and the tourist trade) will result in more unemployment, more poverty and more childhood malnutrition.

Additionally, we have to consider that the poorer section of the population (the majority) live in cramped accommodation where it is not possible to maintain the required distancing.  Nor do they have easy access to clean water, and will not spend money on soaps and sanitising gels if they do not have enough to eat.  Thus the major elements of the public health measures recommended by the World Health Organisation - social distancing and hygiene - are extremely difficult, if not impossible, to implement here. 

& all this is to prevent the spread of a virus which mostly threatens older people, in a continent where only 6% of the population is over 65.

I have no idea what the answer is (and am not necessarily suggesting that we sacrifice a portion of those over-65s to save the rest), but if you can mentally distance yourself from the suffering of individuals and consider the bigger picture, it is a terrible, although fascinating, dilemma for the government.

the spiritual heart of Senegal

The ongoing panic over 'the virus' has even affected me out here in Senegal, as my employer has forbidden all except critical international travel.  Whilst wondering (as regional head of a department whose work necessarily involves international travel) what I am going to find for my staff to do over the next few months, and realising that my own life is about to get a lot more expensive as I suddenly have to fund my own food and drink, and use electricity, water and gas at home, now that I shall not be spending half of my time in hotels, it does at least give me some time to see the remaining corners of Senegal.  As ever, there was work I could have done on Sunday - but with time to do it on Monday, I was able to take the Sunday off.

I'd never been to Touba, Senegal's second city in terms of population but in terms of its influence on people's lives, its most important city.  It's not a tourist centre, and there is no paid accommodation available for visitors as any such places would apparently risk becoming centres for the consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, both of which are banned in Touba.  But the Great Mosque of Touba, consecrated in 1887 by Sufi saint and founder of the Mouride Brotherhood, Amadou Bamba (who also has his tomb there) and subject to constant works to upgrade it, seemed to be something I should go and see.

Unlike many mosques, it is not one you can wander into on your own.  Even standing on the other side of one of the streets around the mosque you have to be properly dressed, so I was soon stopped as I had brought a scarf but had not realised that trousers on women are considered inappropriate.  But only a few yards further along the street I was stopped again, this time by someone in a guard's uniform, and as I explained that I was on my way to the junction to walk away from the mosque he countered that he had already pressed the call button on his phone and did I want to speak to one of the mosque guides, who would provide me with one of the organisation's sarongs before taking me in.  A well-organised place!

The guide appeared quickly, and I asked the price of a tour.  No price.  But an obligatory donation.  OK, well I'd come this far (183km, talking nearly three hours) so I agreed and got kitted up.  Once in the courtyard, he asked me how much I was going to donate.  I told him I had no idea ... as I didn't know whether the tour was going to last 5 minutes or 30, nor how interesting it would be.  He assured me we'd be a minimum 30 minutes but it could be much more if I wished, so I promised CFA10,000 (equivalent to $18) and clearly that was enough, as we actually spent more than two hours wandering around the place, watching the goings on, with him explaining something of the history and religion and me taking lots of photos.

The interior is beautiful, heavily decorated, some of it tiled but there is also a lot of stucco work, plus stained glass windows and generally a lot of light and space.  To be honest I've forgotten now how many people it holds, how many metres high are the minarets, and so on, but that information is probably out there in wikipedia anyway.

The mosque is at the centre of the Mouride brotherhood, which is the most powerful of the various sufi brotherhoods in this very devout country.  Sufism can perhaps be described as a mystical form of Islam, whose followers search for the union of their spirit with Allah in this life, not just in the next - not through the regular ways of orthodox Islam, but through ritual and meditative types of prayer - and in some sufi traditions such as the gnawa in Morocco, through music, or for the dervishes in Turkey and Sudan though their whirling 'dance'.  All of these aiming to take the followers away from the distractions of the material world.

Whilst it stresses the direct relationship between the believer and Allah (this being the distinguishing feature), it does also place a lot of emphasis on the spiritual guide (referred to in Senegal as a marabout), and these are handsomely rewarded for advising their followers, and are heavily involved in business as well as more spiritual matters.

Mouridism is only one of the sufi brotherhoods in Senegal, but the only one founded by a Senegalese, and the most dynamic and powerful due to a large extent to their belief in the sanctity of work and their historical connection with (one could say monopoly over) the production of groundnuts, a major export crop of Senegal.  They also control the transportation sector.  Whilst only some 40% of the population, they have a great deal of political clout, such that all politicians, even those who are not themselves Mourides, seek endorsement from the leader of the Mourides (the grand marabout or caliph) in Touba.

So it was a place I felt I had to visit, given its role in the country.

Perhaps I should have tried to visit during one of the pilgrimages, when several million people descend on the city to pray, but I'm not quite sure how that works as a non-believer.  My guide invited me to come back in a couple of weeks for the Kazu Rajab (the anniversary of the birth in 1945 of the second caliph of Touba), which happens to coincide this year with the date when Muslims commemorate the ascent of Mohamed to heaven.  Apparently there could be 3-4 million people there so it would be a great experience.  This being Senegal, however, my guide also managed to fit into the conversation how I am beautiful intelligent, charismatic ... and should be married to him.  So I think I might have to give the pilgrimage a miss ...

Not to mention that the government announced today 16 coronavirus cases in Touba.  Not being in an "at risk" group, I'm not particularly concerned about the virus, but perhaps it would not be the best time to be in close proximity to several million people!