Opportunities to expand my world view abound at UCAD this week.
Professional rhapsodizers, the male students of this class, they are. The women, God bless them, have worthy ideas in their heads but are masters of word economy and favor the role of bored spectator as the men make their big ideas heard for three hours each night.
So maybe that’s why we ladies are grinning when this artless discourse screeches to a halt and the World Social Forum suddenly bashes its way into our classroom.
All this week, drums have started beating at 6pm- one hour into our evening of lectures. In general I find constant percussion maddening, but I kinda liked the fact that my rambling classmates were forced into silence for a change. All we can do is look at the PowerPoint and nod silently as the professor tries to carry on like there is nothing unusual about the noise outside.
Hmm, looks kinda festive. But a cell phone picture doesn’t give you a full appreciation for this experience….
Turn the volume up on your computer. Okay now turn it up some more.
Now let’s stand here and have an hour long discussion about the meaning of the word “species”.
You might think that hearing drums in an academic setting is commonplace because I live in Africa. To those of you who really believe this, I ask you to get your head out of The Gods Must Be Crazy and use a little common sense thinking. My professor might try to brush off this annoyance, but there is nothing commonplace about what’s going on here at UCAD this week.
Lots of people hanging around my building. I think maybe ten of them are real live students.
The World Social Forum is in town, and lucky for us this means that large swaths of our massive campus have been taken over by a colorful tent city- each one equipped with its own PA system and impassioned speaker. It’s a little like Lollapalooza- just with bad music and lots of Africrap littered about for your purchase. You should already know that the wandering vendors of this city are drawn to large social gatherings (such as traffic jams) like moths to flame, and they are at UCAD this week in full force.
A veritable flea market of wares that I still don’t want to buy. But maybe these other white people will want some souvenirs.
Davos, eat your heart out.
Quick info on the World Social Forum: it’s kind of an answer to the annual World Economic Forum held in a posh Swiss ski resort. The forum here takes on a bit of an anti-globalization, anti-capitalism flare that draws world leader greats like Evo Morales and Hugo Chavez. Presently UCAD has more white people walking around than I have ever seen, and I’m finding it harder and harder to get to class each day as this festival builds steam. Tents are pitched right outside of our building, and the vendors are damn near slipping into our classrooms to try and sell us Orange phone cards or carved wooden masks that are doubtlessly produced in China.
Since you forgot to book your plane ticket to Dakar, I rolled around campus before class and tried to get photos of all the action. Here is a look at what was going on before the drum assault began in earnest on Monday:
The words of interest here are “Africa organized”. In truth, this is probably one of the more organized things I have experienced here so far. Maybe another world is possible after all.
I didn’t know that there were actually enough people occupying Western Sahara to desire liberation. Apparently I learned something today.
I don’t want to give the impression that all of the representing social groups and NGOs were garbage. There are plenty of good ideas being represented….
…I would not, however, place this one in the “good idea” category (“For a world without debt and oppression, globalize the fight against capitalism”).
Tostan, on the other hand, does a lot of great work in Senegal. But I like this shot because you can see the pits of sand that coat this place. For some reason I want you to know that every night I walk back from my classes (flashlight in hand) and have to dump the sand from my shoes and wash my feet. You people need to appreciate illuminated asphalt sidewalks.
They came from everywhere- but sadly I did not see the Judean People’s Front.
Fast forward back to my lecture on the environment. The drumming is incessant so our professor tells us that we are going to have to use our “marabout voices” if we want to be heard. I don’t like to use my marabout voice, so I’m content to sit back in receive mode and smile inwardly at the unintentional comedy. My classmates have brushed the drums aside and they are now talking up a storm again. Others are content to browse the internet on their laptops (yes, they are all wasting time on Facebook)- or they are sending texts, or scanning the leaflets that were handed to them at the Forum. Leftist revolutionaries in the making.
I looked for Hugo. He wasn’t in. Maybe tomorrow.
Me, I’m still not feeling the drums- but I appreciate that they’re imposing a “less art, more matter” learning style that is more in line with my American disposition. Additionally, the week of weirdness is valuable because it provides this Kool-Aid drinking defense-loving Yank some exposure to a completely different cultural undercurrent. I may not join the visiting toubabs who are clad in dreadlocks and peasant skirts, but if I am lucky I might stumble upon Gaddafi hanging out and drinking tea in one of these tents. Ever a devotee of the random, I think that would be a pretty excellent Olmsted experience.
Still, I probably wouldn’t stick around to chat, given the opportunity to speak with that crazy colonel. Like his sub-Saharan counterparts, I have a feeling that once that guy gets talking he probably doesn’t shut up- and I am not looking for any more drum serenades to save me this week.