Senior reflects on recent trip to Senegal
By Hunter W. '15
The name Senegal is believed to originate from the Wolof phrase, Sunu gaal. When the lusophone seamen of the 15th century docked on the beaches of the West African land and began communication with the natives, the exchange of language morphed “Sunu gaal” to Senegal. From Portuguese to Dutch to French, the epithet endured. As I spent two and a half weeks discovering Senegalese culture and all of its idiosyncrasies, I realized no name could be more fitting, as Sunu gaal translates to “the same canoe,” signifying solidarity, unity, and acceptance.
The name Senegal is believed to originate from the Wolof phrase, Sunu gaal. When the lusophone seamen of the 15th century docked on the beaches of the West African land and began communication with the natives, the exchange of language morphed “Sunu gaal” to Senegal. From Portuguese to Dutch to French, the epithet endured. As I spent two and a half weeks discovering Senegalese culture and all of its idiosyncrasies, I realized no name could be more fitting, as Sunu gaal translates to “the same canoe,” signifying solidarity, unity, and acceptance.
Before my departure, I received an encyclopedic guide to the dos and don’ts of Senegalese culture. Being the wise traveler that I am, I studied the guide from cover to cover, as to prevent any faux-pas. A few weeks later, on my first night of homestay, I found myself stuck in a situation with faux-pas at every door: I hadn’t the faintest idea who my actual host family was. Upon our arrival at the village, my fellow homestayer and I were paired with “la famille de Jean Paul.” After the pairing had been made, two teenage girls—who certainly were not Jean Paul—strolled us through town, greeting the occasional passerby with a cordial “salut” or “comment ca va?” Alas, we arrived at a brightly painted rectangular structure, that we believed to be our abode for the next week. A welcome party of what appeared to be half the village greeted us at the home entrance, where we were barraged with tens of names, Francois, Nicholas, Beatrice, Adama, Elisabeth—the attendance went on, but one thing was certain, no Jean Paul was mentioned.
As we settled into our first night, the entropy only multiplied. We personally witnessed at least twenty people of all ages, each treating each other as family, move in and out of the compound-- mathematically speaking, not all of these people could reside in our three bedroom compound. In fear that asking, “so who actually lives here?” would come across as rude, we survived our first night with ambiguous titles and muffled pronunciations.
It was not until our fourth night that we actually discovered who Jean Paul was, but at that point we had realized it did not matter. In a mere four days, we discerned that sunu gaal is rooted in community. Brothers, sisters, grandparents, neighbors, friends, and colleagues are considered kin to the Senegalese. Our family transcended divisions of religion, ethnic group, class, and wealth. In this experience, we learned the citizens of Senegal fulfilled the principle of their moniker: one family, one nation, one people, sunu gaal.
To see more photos from the visit, click here.
To see more photos from the visit, click here.
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