In French, "Merci" is often answered with "De rien," meaning "It's nothing."
In Wolof the response to "Jerejef" (thank you) is "Nio ko bokk", which literally means "we (all) share it."
I understood the real meaning of "nio ko bokk" last weekend when I was in Dakar visiting friends. On Sunday I had the pleasure of being invited to a "Journée d'Amitié" that was held by a youth group in my best Senegalese friend's neighborhood in the northern suburbs of the capital. It's a new community group, non-religiously-affiliated, with the goal of getting together young adults in the neighborhood so they can help each other out, talk about common problems, work together to create jobs and support each other. I think it's very cool that they're doing this, and my friend A. is one of their founding members.
Sunday they held this "Friendship Day" that was about advertising the group, getting people to meet people, and just having fun. They served lunch, talked about what the group is doing and what projects they hope to do, people introduced themselves, and then there was music and dancing. I had a blast, and was so proud of all of them for their initiative and self-motivation. Being the so-called "development agent" that is my role here, I couldn't help thinking that there in front of me I was seeing what I had been saying to other volunteers that Senegal needs - Senegalese who take it upon themselves to help each other, who don't just reach out to outside sources to beg for handouts, who look at their peers as resource people and seek solutions to their problems next door, instead of the next continent over.
In that afternoon I felt the glow of success, and a hopefulness that has often escaped me in my work at site. This was not something that I had worked for, nothing here was the result of my participation, and yet I felt pride that I could simply be there to witness this achievement. True, these people are just beginning, this group is just getting started. Who knows where they will go from here, if their success will continue. But the fact that they are trying, not waiting for anyone to help them but stepping up to help themselves, is, to me, huge. I cannot count the number of times I have talked with other volunteers about the questionable sustainability of our work here, the validity of "development work" and the merit or lack thereof of external agents intervening in countries like Senegal. As strangers from foreign lands dropping in to tell local people how to do something better that they've done a certain way for centuries, I often feel that our presence here hinders more than helps. But at best, I believe that we as volunteers can serve to show the Senegalese that there are different ways of thinking about things. Because who is to say what is better? What is better for an American may not be better for a Senegalese. I believe that what is eventually going to help better Senegal needs to come from within Senegal itself.
So I applaud these brave young adults, who aren't willing to join so many of their peers in resignation like all the young Senegalese I meet who complain to me about their own country, who cross their arms and say over and over, "Senegal neexul, fii amul xaalis." (Senegal is terrible, there's no money here.) Having come to this country with the aim of helping people here to help themselves, I have often been discouraged to see the overwhelming number of people who don't even want to try to help themselves. But here is a group who are walking the walk, stepping up to the plate and doing something. I couldn't think of a better way to start to say goodbye to this place than by seeing at least one small part of it that really doesn't need my help. Because their success is mine as well, and yours, wherever you are.
We all share it.
(The Amicale's president P.B. practicing his speech, with sister looking on)
(P.B. delivering speech, with other board members B. and F. looking on)clip "mboolo mooy doole" (strength in numbers)
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