la lutte

Believe it or not, wrestling is Senegal’s national sport. However, this is not the Vince McMahon version of wresting entertainment. This form of wrestling is a mix of mysticism, brute force, tradition, and modernity all rolled into pure controlled chaos. It is entertainment but it is also about pride, force, and power.

Let me preface this post by saying that I have only watched professional “lutte” (wrestling) on television. The only time that I have seen matches live is while visiting villages where young inexperience boys battle. Watching professional lutte on television and seeing it live are very different, although the essence remains, the total experience is different. After watching la lutte I feel like an insider since Mondays are usually spent rehashing what happened during the Sunday night match. Last night there was a major match in Dakar between Yekini, the reigning champ, and Gris Bordeaux. There were other, smaller, less important matches before the big match.

Senegalese culture and life are exemplified in these wrestling matches. There is pomp, grandiose personalities, marabouts (religious leaders), mysticism, Islam, dancing, singing, sand, etc. As per usual, there is always a lot going on at one time. There is action everywhere. People vying are for attention and recognition on all sides of the arena. During the matches women dressed to the nines in “traditional” clothing sing, dance, and fan themselves. Drummers are banging away on their dembes or sabars. Marabouts bless their wrestling follower.

The main attraction wrestlers come with an entourage consisting of bodyguards and assistants. The lesser known wrestlers have a coach and perhaps a friend that help them with the rituals. The majority of the major wrestlers are physically extraordinary in the sense that they are large, gusto, and muscular unlike the average skinny but strong Senegalese man. Many wrestlers have crazy hairdos, some guys have words craved out in their hair and some have cowry shells placed around their heads. Wrestlers wear loincloths, à la Sumo wrestler, and tons of gris-gris.

Gris-gris are amulets blessed by marabouts that can be worn around the neck, arms, legs, waist, or across the chest. Wrestlers are known to wear many gris-gris. On any given wrestler there may be as few as five and as many as fifteen gris-gris. Gris-gris hold a sort of power and are used to protect the wrestler. The rituals before the match are more advanced and complicated. The wrestler is usually chewing on something, a stick or a metal object. He digs up sand, writes in Arabic on the sand, and throws sand. He also dumps various unidentified liquids over his head. I was able to determine that the liquids include curdled milk, oil, and water, among others. The wrestlers don’t stop moving. They run, walk, sway, crouch before their match. There isn’t any deep breathing mediation going on, instead they are keeping busy with the liquids and sand.

Last night, the main attractions were Yekini and Gris Bordeaux. They each had a large entourage with bodyguards. The wrestlers were wearing their loincloths, gris-gris, gauzy tunics, and sneakers. Their entourage was dressed in tracksuits provided by Orange, the communications company. The entourage’s job is to stay with the wrestler and assist him with his rituals. If the wrestler feels like doing large-man sprints, the entourage must follow him, but stay behind to demonstrate how fast and agile this monstrous man can be. The wrestlers also did some dancing to the drums as well as had a few face-offs with their opponent. Gris Bordeaux seemed much nicer than Yekini in the face offs, so I rooted for him.

The pre-match for Yekini and Gris Bordeaux was two hours of watching other people wrestle. Apparently, there is a Spanish league of Senegalese wrestling because some Spanish toubab outfitted in loincloth and gris-gris wrestled and lost to a skinny Senegalese man. In between matches the camera would cut to Yekini and Gris Bordeuax and they would be running, dancing, pour liquid on themselves, or grimacing at each other. In the background the commentators were speculating on who was going to win, what tactics they would employ, and on and on. The marabout, who spoke too quickly in Wolof for me to understand, gesticulated and carried on.

The matches take place in a sand pit delineated by sand bags. The wrestlers start the match off by slapping. It looks like two guys swatting flies since the slaps don’t go beyond the hands. Then after a minute or two of the slap fighting things get serious and the sand flinging begins. Yes, the wrestlers can throw sand at each other. Punching, slapping, kicking, and head butting are also allowed. Oftentimes one wrestler will end up with his head in the other’s stomach and punching will ensue. The objective of Senegalese wrestling is for one of the wrestlers to make the other one fall down. Once one knee is on the ground the game is over. I have yet to see someone fall down because they have been hit too many times. Most likely they end up on the ground because they have been thrown there or because they have been tripped.

The Yekini and Gris Bordeaux match lasted exactly two minutes and thirty seconds. It was timed on the television screen. All that hype and liquids wasted for two and a half minutes. The first minute was slapping. Yekini looked bored and barely landed his slaps. Then they entered the embrace position and Gris Bordeaux had a solid handle on Yekinis’ legs and was pushing him over/lifting him up when Gris Bordeuax fell on his knees. The match was over. Yekini won despite showing no effort.

This is a six-minute youtube video of Senegalese wrestling from 2008 in Palamarin, a village in the Sine-Saloum region South of Dakar. The clip is an accurate depiction of la lutte as it shows both the ritual and fighting sides of the sport.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZIG1Lj1dnw&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.au-senegal.com%2FLa-lutte-senegalaise.html&feature=player_embedded

little serrer girl

A small little girl with neat braids, wearing a colorful wrap skirt and a dirty tee-shirt, came into my office this afternoon and asked me in Wolof, “Where is Michel?” Michel is the gardener/ security guard for the building that I work in. He frequently leaves his post, a bench under a banana tree, to visit friends or hang in his room at the back of the building. I told the girl that Michel was probably in the back and indicated where she should look.

On my way back to my office, I realized that she was the first person in a long time who has spoken to me like a “normal” person. Not exaggeratedly slow Wolof, no poking fun of my lack of comprehension, no asking for money or gift, just a person to person interaction.

Not two seconds after I sat down I heard a little voice say, “Michel, nekkel fofou.” Michel isn’t over there, I could tell from the short amount of time it took her to return that she hadn’t really looked because she was scared to go alone. So I took her by the hand and led her to the back of the building. Michel wasn’t there. As we were walking back to the front gate I asked her all sorts of questions like her name, her age, and where her mother is. As soon as we got near the gate, I turned, I think to pick her up or to take her hand, and she started to scream. The screaming and crying was nothing compared to the utter fear in her face. It was astounding. I could tell before, when we were walking around the building that she was afraid, it must have built until “boom,” I made one false move. I racked my brain on how to ask her if she was scared but all I could think of was how to say “cry”.

A young woman, much younger than me, but probably her mother appeared at the door and began to laugh at this strange interaction. Her crying child and a toubab, standing across from each other, one in fear and the other in bewilderment. The girl ran to her mother and was comforted about the scary toubab. About five minutes later I saw Michele come back and heard him speaking in Serrer to a woman. Leaving for lunch, I walked past the banana tree and the girl started to scream in horror. Michel said in Wolof, “It’s OK, that’s just Soufi.”

To see a marabout or not to see a marabout, that is the question.

I am not a spiritual person nor am I a religious person. I try to think logically by planning, making lists, and being organized. So far, my methodology hasn’t exactly worked. I have used by “plan B” or “back-up” plan much more often than my initial plan A.

I think I need to go see a marabout (religious leader). I am of the opinion that marabouts only work if you believe in them, which I don’t. But perhaps something amazing will happen and my wishes will come true.

When I was in Senegal as a student I visited a “seetkat” or seer, because someone stole a nice sum of money from me. My host brother (the likely culprit) pushed me to visit a seetkat, who he claimed would reveal the guilty party and help me seek justice. I was very skeptical and had no desire to go through with the meeting, but I was feeling vulnerable and robbed, so agreed to go.

The seetkat was Guinean and only spoke a little French. He sat on the ground with his eyes closed in front of a pile of sand and after hearing my story, wrote lines in the sand every which way. After opening his eyes, he proceeded to read the lines. He described the thief and then as an extra bonus, read my fortune. Not to reveal all of my secrets, I will glimpse over my fortune and mention that the person he described match perfectly with the housekeeper at my father’s house who had been robbing me blind in my absence. Unfortunately, I realized this long after the fact. Anyway, the seetkat also told me that someone who loved me would get in contact with me soon. Not five minutes after leaving the seetkat’s digs, my mom called me. This was unusual because she rarely called me at night and it was circa 9 pm.

Recently things in my life in Senegal have been going awry, mainly in the job department. I have considered going to a marabout, there are at least three in my neighborhood, and getting a gris-gris (amulet). The difference between a seetkat and a marabout is that a seetkat sees the past and future and a marabout can influence the future and offer protection (for a steep price and some livestock). Until this point, these proclamations about marabouts and lusting after a gris-gris have been in jest. However, things are starting to change and I am seriously considering finding a toubab friendly marabout. If it happens, I will detail my experience on this neglected blog.