E=mcsquared; toubab = money

I’m not sure there’s been a day where someone has NOT asked me for money or a cadeaux (present). When we were in Tamba, it got to be quite overwhelming and even a bit annoying. At times we couldn’t walk properly because of the hoards of kids with outstretched hands pleading, “cadeaux, cadeaux, cadeaux”.

When I walk down the street little kids run from their houses with hands out stretched. One little boy who was well clothed and looked decently feed, interrupted his basketball game to give me a pitiful face with an outstretched hand, “toubab, give me 100cfa or bread to eat.” I stopped and asked him, “Why do you ask me? Have you asked your friends? Senegalese are very hospitable, I’m sure they could give you something to eat.” He looked at me like I was crazy.

I got into a taxi a couple of weeks ago and as I shut the door the driver immediately turned around and bluntly proclaimed, “ you have lots of money.” I was quite tired and didn’t feel like discussing this again so I matched his directness with , “and how do you know that? You think I have lots of money because I’m white? You think all whites have money…?” It was a bit assumptive and over the top, but he didn’t say another word.

There is a system of belief/education…I’m not really sure what to call it, that some Islamic
schools teach their boys. The boys are called talibes. Instead of having class all day, they give the boys old cans and turn them to the streets to beg. They believe it teaches them to be humble and to accept what God gives them in life. Many layers to the system exist, and I don’t yet fully understand it so I won’t attempt to explain it. But what I do know is that the streets are filled with little boys in raggy t-shirts who beg for money and toubabs are a main target. As a toubab, I must realize that I can’t give to everybody. I usually don’t give money, fruit is a good option for me. Sometimes I ignore them, sometimes I try to be creative…

For example, one time a small group of boys approached me. I had a 100cfa coin. I gave it to the first little boy with outstretched hand, BUT I took back 75cfa- 25cfa and 50cfa pieces from his little pile of coins. I gave the 25cfa to the next little boy. And made change with the 50cfa piece to be able to give 25cfa to the remaining two boys. They stood there in utter shock that this toubab would make change! Everyone benefits from a simple lesson in socialism!

On the flip side of the coin, one morning I was at the boulangerie (bakers) and a little boy came up to me asking for a money or bread. I looked in his can and found 150cfa, the price of a baguette. I picked the coins out of his bucket, gave them to him and pointed at the loaves of bread. I work for my money and so does he. Perhaps, I do have a bit of the US capitalist system in me.

I can’t even begin to enumerate the amount of times people have bluntly asked me for money or expected me to pay or give presents simply on the assumption that because I’m white I have money. Sadly enough, I’ve had to distance myself from the family in Yoff where I teach English because I believe they see me only as money. And even yesterday, the man from whom I buy my daily banana said, “Its Easter, you should give me a present” and he rubbed his fingers together in the international sign for money. I thought we were simply buddies…

As always, I have tons of questions and hypothesis constantly running inside my head: what is my social responsibility?; What did colonization really do to these cultures?; How can they truly believe that all white people are rich?; How many things would be different if US films and T.V. demonstrated that not all Americans live in mansions, drive nice cars, and eat McDonalds everyday? Will I be able to have a true relationship/friendship in Senegal without the other person expecting any financial gain?...while I’m not rich and have worked hard for this opportunity, I do have more money and opportunities then most of them ever will. How do I rationalize that? How do I justify that? How do I live that?

Perhaps I’m not fully understanding something. Perhaps they mean something different in the cultural language which I don’t fully comprehend yet. While these thoughts run inside me I must be careful with what comes out of me. Whether I like it or not, I am—24hrs a day, a representative of the U.S., of white people. For some, I might be the only white person they talk to in their life. What they think of me and our interaction they might permanently attach as a label for all white people. This is a huge responsibility.