Late night reflections

Sorry about the absence as of late. I've been in Dakar for the past week seeing friends off who have finished their services in Senegal, taking care of some Peace Corps stuff, playing softball (undefeated, yo) and showing the new trainees around the city (le tour guide, quoi). The only downer was diving into the pool with my phone in my pocket like the dunce I am, but it seems to be on the mend now. The best part of it all is hanging out with other volunteers late into the night, talking about everything from politics to economics to music to the epic levels of romantic frustration one can only experience as a volunteer, all over the cheapest, nastiest beer you ever thought you'd willingly drink. One conversation in particular has given me pause.

One of the reasons why the Peace Corps program in Senegal is so large is that, unlike so many other countries in west Africa, Senegal has never ripped itself apart with civil war or even general political unrest. We, as volunteers, are safe here. Whether its to do with Islam, Senegalese society and culture or whatever, people here are committed to jamm (peace). Given the stagnant economy, absurd levels of unemployment, rampant hunger in the hinterlands, corruption at every level of government, and the food scarcity and increasing cost that have come to typify this region, I find it inspiring that Senegalese people haven't succumed to widespread violence and revolt at some point in their history. Even their independence was gained through a peaceful negotiation with France.

Its not that Senegalese people are ignorant of their plight. People are actutely aware of just how hard life can suck here. And yet they choose to live their lives in such a way as to minimize conflict on a large scale. To be sure, there are levels of petty theft and burglary that you'd expect in poor countries, but given the terrifying levels of absolute poverty (as opposed to relative poverty) that refuse to go away, it could be far, far worse.

And yet, it seems, it all hangs on a thread.

When you're mired in a poverty that has gone past stagnation and seems to be getting worse by the year, when there isn't a job to be had in the one place everyone goes to find one, when you can't send money home to the village even though the year's corn harvest is nearly depleted, when food prices are skyrocketing, when you're bombarded with advertisements reminding you how much better and easier and simpler life is in America, you attach yourself to something bigger. When a president promises you almost everything and delivers nearly nothing, when the electricity for one of the largest cities in west Africa can't be kept on for lack of someone paying attention to what the fuck is going on, you invest your relative happiness in something not connected to everyday life. In Senegal, as in many other places, rich and poor alike, the object of so many people's hope and expectation is the national soccer team.

Last Saturday (the 11th), Senegal faced the Gambia in Dakar in match that promised the winner a berth in the World Cup. The Senegalese team, its roster full of European club players, outmatched the Gambian team much like Senegal's physical size dwarfs that of the Gambia. Senegal needed a win to advance; the Gambia a tie or better. When Senegal went up 1-0 early in the second half, you could barely hear the announcers on TV over the noise of the crowd. People were jubliant, and you could feel it even through a television. Whatever was going on in Senegal, we were going to the first World Cup held in Africa. But, after the Gambia tied the game in the 85th minute and the match ended in a draw five minutes later, the entire stadium, and later that entire section of Dakar, went to hell.

Ultimately unsuccessful, the crowd on hand tried its damnedest to raze the stadium to the ground. Anything not bolted to the ground, and some things that originally were, were torn up and used to break every window in sight. It didn't take long for the melee to spill into the surrounding neighborhoods where it devolved beyond simple hooliganism. The anger and frustration of the past couple months came to a head and Dakar lost its fucking mind. Windows were smashed out. Cars were burned. Foreigners in attendence were robbed of anything not attached to them. Some had rocks thrown at their heads. (My friends in attendence managed to escape, some with minor wounds, all having had something taken from them.) Tear gas and thick, black smoke from burning cars and car tires made the city look like a carpet-bombed Berlin.

If all it takes is a little soccer game to push a large group of people over the edge, what would it take to do it on the national level? More power outages? Higher food prices? A public political scandal? Drought? Famine? Whatever it may be, I was reminded of what can happen when the fervor of mob mentality meets the perfect storm of anger and desperation.

With all of this in mind, I've been trying to figure out why so many people here are so interested in the American presidential race. I've come to the conclusion that while there may be some degree of casual curiosity and genuine intellectual interest, a great many people, from Senegal to Kenya to Mozambique, have put their hope and faith in Obama, as little as they may actually know about him or American politics. Seeing a black man, and one so relatively unremoved from his African heritage, on the cusp of rising to the most powerful office in the world is inspiring. It reminds people that while life is hard right now - and there's no guarantee that its going to get better soon - that we can still hope. We can hope that we'll land a visa to the states or Europe, maybe; or that in the long run, Africa's not hopelessly screwed. That our best days are still ahead. That Africa won't always be a charity case. That we can make life better.

Obama may be an American. He may have only visited Kenya a couple of times, and even that is on the other side of this immense landmass. We may not know much at all about his take on the financial crisis or domestic policy, or even know what that all means. But he's one of us. And that's exciting. That's inspiring.

Senegal may not be playing a competitive match for the next three years, but people have found something to believe in. I have to confess, the excitement is contagious.