La Magal

For many February 14 is Valentine’s day, a faux holiday of Hallmark cards and love. This year in Senegal for the Mourides (an Muslim brotherhood), February 14 denotes the Magal. The Magal marks the anniversary of Cheikh Amadou Bamba’s exile to Gabon, where he stayed for seven years and purportedly prayed on water. Bamba, or Serigne Touba, as he is commonly known, is the founder of the brotherhood and is worshiped as if he was a prophet. He was a deeply religious man that preached adherence to Islam, hardwork, and living simply. He created a mosque and a huge legacy in the city of Touba. Annually Mourides make a pilgrammage to Touba to pray, chant, and feast.

An aside about the Mourides, they are the second largest brotherhood in Senegal, but are the most visible. Generally, Mourides are merchants and have a large network of followers. These networks extend to the USA and Italy where many Mourides remit their pay to larger Mouride foundations. Mourides have a particular handshake and name their stores “Touba” this or “Cheikh Bamba” that. A branch of the Mouride brotherhood is the Baye Falls. Their leader, Lamp Fall was a disciple of Serigne Touba. It’s a long story but these folks are the “alternative” Mourides. They dress in patchwork clothing, have dred locks, and smoke dope. Those who hustle, hassle anyone they see for money for their marabouts (spiritual leader) in the most aggressive and annoying manner possible.

So the Magal is approaching and everywhere you go there are buses, car rapids, taxies, station wagons, SUVs, and cars packed with people headed for Touba. These vehicles are crammed with amplifiers, cooking utensils, clothing, unidentifiable metal contraptions, and lots of sheep. Yesterday a large van parked outside of my house and unloaded twelve bleating sheep and tied them to each other in the most inhumane fashion. The man who unloaded them was wearing patchwork clothing and an absurd “lost boys” a la Peter Pan hat. In any case, around midnight these sheep were reloaded into a truck along with half the contents of my neighbor’s house destined for Touba.

Apparently there are traffic jams on the main highway for miles and miles because half of Dakar is going to Touba. Police escorts are everywhere, taking small-time marabouts to the ultimate marabout, Serigne Mouhamadou Lamine Bara ibn Mouhamadou Fadilou M'Backé, who is the grandson of Serigne Touba. Do not get me started on these hypocritical charlatan marabouts who have more than four wives, pimp little boys as beggars, and control Dakar.

The actual objective of this post was to mention a hypocritical act of someone going to Touba that emphasizes the general loss of meaning in most celebrations. Today I went to visit my old host mother, a kind, generous, and religious woman whose attitude is always positive and accepting. I could not believe when I saw her this afternoon in a state of inner turmoil. While at the market this morning someone stole her cell phone, wallet, and keys from her shopping bag. When she called her cell phone the thief answered and said that he would return her wallet with her ID card, keys, and SIM card but would keep her money and cell phone. He told her to meet in the Almadies, a posh section of Dakar, about ten miles from where she was. After negotiating with him, he agreed to meet her in front of a supermarket. Much closer to her house. She waited for him for an hour or so and he never showed. Initially, when she called him, he apologized for taking her belongings, saying that he was embarrassed to have stolen from an old lady, but he needed the money for the Magal.

After my host mother told me that some jerk stole from her so he could participate in a religious festival which is insistent upon adhering to the Quran, I went into a fit of rage. I will not express my feelings about organized religion here, but all I can say is that this action enforced my feelings tenfold.