The Day Before:
Remember where we were a month ago? It feels like just the other day that I was sitting in a similar car and on my way to the fair city of Thiès for the first round of Senegal’s presidential elections.
On this day of March 24th, I’m as excited as I was during the first round of voting to play the role of international election observer. The institution of democracy anywhere must never be taken for granted, and recent local and regional events have made the Senegalese rightfully protective of their representative government. They are ready to head to the polls.
As I read the local paper, I see photos documenting the humble beginning of the next would-be president, Macky Sall. I learn about his parents, as well as his namesake (every person in Senegal is named after someone- people here don’t bestow kids with haphazard names like Moon Unit). After finishing the newspaper’s adjective-heavy biography, I get to the back of the paper and spy the horoscope corner. I’m curious to see what’s in the stars for Macky Sall, because it’s sure to be good:
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Des changements importants vont survenir. Vous êtes dans une période transitoire délicate. Cela se répercutera sur votre comportement face à votre entourage. Faites preuve d’énergie car vous seriez vite dépassé. Réorganisez-vous en transformant votre emploi du temps.
Miss Cleo must have her astrology forecasts in perfect harmony today….or maybe she just caught sight of Macky’s impressionable campaign posters:
Ça suffit! (Enough already!) These posters juxtapose the the pathetic state of the country’s classrooms with the amount of money that leadership has spent on a few kilometers of dakarois streets. You also see the African Renaissance Monument juxtaposed with flooding in the suburbs. The orange poster strategically-placed poster in between is from the Democratic Alliance- and it urges citizens to take back the power- “This is the moment to change everything- Vote!”
Today sees me and my Senegalese counterpart traveling around rural areas in order to get a sense for how election preparations are going. You can feel the excitement in the air as large groups of people are seen moving about the country in order to be in place for the national roll call at the polls.
It’s not a pretty highlight, but I have to say that at least one graffiti “artist” in Thiès has been having a field day using homosexuality as unimpressive slander. I saw this scrawled on many walls; the names of Wade, his son Karim and Macky Sall have all been considered.
But ignorance aside, we found polling stations and voting headquarters to be in the stages of preparation. Having just gone through this process a few weeks ago, officials had a good sense of how things were going to run.
Election Day:
The morning of elections came very early, and we were on the road and in place prior to polls opening their doors to voters. We made our first stop at Tivaouane, and were happy to see voters already lining up a half hour before polls would open. Very impressive for a people who are not known to be very matinal.
This guy was regulating the flow of traffic into the first bureau de vote that we visited. Imagine my delight when I greeted him and saw that he was sporting a U.S. Navy ballcap. Counting myself as a member of this fine organization, I decided to engage him and ask if he’d pose for a photo. Whenever I tell Senegalese that “Je suis militarie”, I get an expression that is equal parts bemusement and delight. This guy was no different, and his warm reception served as a most auspicious start to an important day.
A kind of rushed video of our pre-poll view here at a school in Tivaouane.
Before polls officially open, each committee takes the ballot box out and shows the voting population that it is indeed empty.
Here we have the first voter coming into his bureau de vote. His identification cards are being verified by the committee before he can collect the ballots and voting envelope. Incidentally, each bureau de vote permits one member from each candidate’s party to be present during voting, as well as international observers (that’s why you see other people in the room- each person has a purpose).
It’s kind of nice that there are only two candidates on this round. This list had fourteen people the last time we came through town.
Many bureaux de vote are housed in school classrooms. As I sat and observed the voting process, I always loved looking at the murals designed on class walls. This one says “Our national flag. I care for it, love it, and respect it. I am a good citizen.” I thought this was rather apropos given the flavor of the day.
This chicken scratching, on the other hand, was seen on the outside wall of another school. “Dans la classe, je vote Rambo.” I thought this was random, nonsensical, and highly amusing.
As we made our way through each village, I did take some time to scrawl my own scattered thoughts in a notebook. I’ll include a few of them here:
Tivaouane Commune:
Maybe I’ve just grown used to it, but the schools seem much cleaner this time around. Here in Ndiassane, I’m sitting on a well-worn school bench and a small boy outside has caught my eye as he stands near the doorway and stares at me in amusement. At least for today, I’m the only white thing in town. We exchange waves and smiles as I admire his oversize black t-shirt that says, “Noir et Fier” (Black and Proud) in font shades that match the Senegalese tricolor. Today this little boy and his country have plenty of reasons to be just that.
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As the post lunch pause moves past, my favorite part of the day comes into favor as we arrive at our last village.
Thienaba Commune:
It never ceases to humble me, the gentillesse of this people. I am sitting atop an empty yellow jerrycan that was previously providing comfort for someone actually supporting this voting operation. The committee members bade me sit so I could easily record my observer data, but also because they wanted me to share in a few round of attaya that is being heated up here in the sandy bureau.
I know by now that the tea ceremony and its significance is becoming a bit of a cliché as Occidentals re-voyage the world and are struck by the simplistic goodness of this communal exchange. It’s kind of ridiculous, and almost embarrassing that we Westerners are losing our grip on this basic element of human partnership.
I find this to be a true definition of grace.
This battered blue tent- erected in support of an event that determines this country’s next leader- is a far cry from the places that I equated with democracy while growing up in America. But at the same time, this place serves as a far more effective teaching tool. Every American should have the chance to sit where I am perched right now: a sizable mosque sits 200 meters from here and the call to prayer sounds in a way that blends into this unseasonably cool air. And the woman who offered me her seat? She has just replaced her own seat with a small rock upon which she is now balanced as she fires up a third and final round of attaya that will be handed to me with a smile.
At 17:00 the results start coming in from somewhere in Italy: Macky has 39 votes and Wade has gotten only two. Polls have closed in Europe and committee members are now getting SMS messages with more numbers. In Toulouse, Macky picks up 228 votes and Wade gains only thirty-eight. Change is in the air. And even I can hear it outside as the crowds start to build in anticipation of the results.
At 18:00 sharp, the door to our tents is tied shut and the counting process is set to begin. It’s going to get dark in here very shortly.
Before the ballots can be counted, the committee sets off on the painstaking process of making sure the voting register matches the number of signatures. Il faut que tout soit correcte.
Soon the ballot box is opened and the envelope counting begins. The number of envelopes must (should) match the number of voters and signatures recorded in the committee’s books.
As we start the actual ballot counting, I tally along with the officials to try and keep count. The man next to me is in charge of discarding envelopes, and the rhythm of the counting seems to be far more interesting than my recording of what looks to be an eventual landslide.
Thirty seconds of listening to the committee president announce each cast ballots is enough to give you an idea of how the evening went.
As each tented bureau de vote in Thienaba posted their results, a cheer would go up from the crowd. From inside my tent it sounded like a carnival was going on outside, and as I finally made my exit from the bureau, cars were honking and people were waving. Thumbs up all around as the future of Senegal was made abundantly clear in such a short period of time.
Results started pouring in to radio and television stations immediately. Here in the lower corner you can see the tendances– or voting trend. If you don’t know what Macky Sall looks like, you can probably still make him out based on numbers.
At approximately 21:30 on election day, President Abdoulaye Wade called Macky Sall to congratulate him on his victory. Senegal was already in a state of well-deserved jubilation as they showed their government and the world what they were all about. As a Senegalese friend of mine described it, this is a country that always successfully and peacefully punishes or rewards by ballot. Well said.
“Le roi est mort, Vive le président!” – Heard on the radio.
The Day After:
It was a sunny morning-after in downtown Thiès. Still on the job, we were on the road early to once again to collect vote tallies from the bureaux de vote.
Despite the significance of the evening, life was continuing on in its usual manner: the talibés still took to the streets as the sun rose over town and the roadside stores opened up for business.
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Crowds gathered around stands as newsagents clipped up the morning’s headlines. Everybody was well aware of today’s top story, but we all wanted to see the results in black and white.
The morning’s headline: “Macky to the Palace…and Wade to the trash.”
Even if this hadn’t been a day made for celebrating democracy, I’d still say note that it was a beautiful morning to be traveling around the countryside of Senegal.
Me and Badiane, my most excellent partner in crime (or should I say objective neutrality?!). Together we made the rounds to collect the voting numbers posted on the bureau doors. For both rounds of voting, I was paired up with fantastic people whose professionalism, diligence and hilarious sense of humor really exemplified the tenets that make this country so great.
And this time around, the results are much easier to record when you’ve got only two candidates.
I told you it was a beautiful morning, and we made a stop in the Tivaouane prefecture to get some more vote tallies. The people working this area didn’t go to bed until five in the morning. There wasn’t much more to see here except some lonely sheep and an extremely bored guard.
Remains of the day…
The Gendarmerie in Pout helped us to obtain some polling station results. They had all of their towns urns stacked up and ready for the next rodeo. You can see that each box has an electric lamp inside, which as you now know is key when voting time comes around and the sun is starting to set.
This leftover sponge- dyed bright pink with indelible ink- was found at one of the voting stations. Yesterday each voter used this to remove some of the residue after he or she dipped a finger in the inkwell and thus completed their civic duty. A badge of honor indeed.
These clowns? We didn’t do anything nearly as cool. Happy and less serious on the following morning, our observation teams crossed paths at the local tribunal. We traded jokes, drank café touba and posed for some photos before moving on. At least from my biased perspective, the United States mission here in Senegal really had some wonderful American and Senegalese volunteers taking part in this observation process.
There’s probably no more appropriate way to salute this country than by doing it with a cup of this fine elixir.
As we were getting ready to finally leave for Dakar, a talibé in a dirty green and white striped soccer shirt started tapping at my window. This happens quite often, and in such a situation I am forced to assume a heart-wrenching yet stoic expression that says, “I’m not going to give you anything.” I hate doing this, and the issue is so much more complex than what I can pretend to explain in a few lines here. I will say that I was struck by the back of this little boy’s shirt as he walked away from the car- it spoke volumes to me.
It’s a new day for Senegal, and the flag continues to fly despite some alarming moments of uncertainty over the past year. What a difference even a day makes. “On n’ a plus de waxeet“- is one way I heard it described.
In true Senegalese fashion, everyone’s got something to say about this presidential election- but my favorite comment from the weekend came from a Gendarme who helped us find some missing polling numbers: “This is a good result. Here in Senegal, we are mature. We don’t kill our pilot while he’s trying to fly the plane- we address our issues through communication.” This was a direct reference to what happened in the neighboring country of Mali last week.
The Senegalese may be a peaceful people, but be it known that they also hold one another to a very high standard. I hope that President-elect Sall gets some rest in the next couple of days, because his countrymen will never be content to simply rest on the laurels of one laudable democratic transition.
The future remains very bright for the inspiring country.
To check out how the first round of elections went, click on my entry located here.