All posts by Erika

Advocacy through Study Abroad – An Interview with Dr. Serigne Ndiaye

Interview and profile

“This is what I do as resident director,” Dr. Serigne Ndiaye says with a little laugh when one of his teachers interrupts our interview with paperwork to sign. With a quick glance, he whisks his signature across the page. And, without skipping a beat, we’re back to talking about his work organizing study abroad in Dakar, Senegal.

“Our mission … is to help people acquire knowledge and an understanding to live in a globally interdependent world,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone that elides the current threats to study abroad enrollment in Senegal and Africa. Despite more than ten years of increased student interest, recent problems on the continent and misconceptions about Africa have gravely affected the number of American students who elect to study in this part of the world.

Ndiaye has been working as the resident director of CIEE (Council for International Educational Exchange) in Dakar, Senegal over the past 12 years. He has mediated cultural differences between his American students and his Senegalese professors for just as long. It hasn’t always been an easy journey, but one gets the sense that Ndiaye has always enjoyed the challenge. In part because of the Ebola epidemic, this past year has been particularly trying.

“There is too much hype. This semester, I tell my students that I am really proud of you. That you went beyond to break down stereotypes,” Ndiaye states as he sits up in his chair. He is an ardent proponent of cultural exchange as a necessary part of modern education. As the world has become increasingly globalized, it’s no surprise that intercultural relations are being integrated into nearly every part of our lives. He sees no reason why we can’t transcend these misconceptions.

Once an international student himself, Ndiaye did his undergraduate and graduate work at Université Cheikh Anta Diop in Dakar before receiving his doctoral degree from Emory University in Atlanta. He then taught comparative and post-colonial literature at universities in the United States before taking this post in Dakar.

Asked about the challenges of his job, Ndiaye highlights his most salient concern: pernicious misconceptions and mis-education about his culture. This trend of negative stereotypes that discourage students and their advisors from exploring Senegal has been difficult for him. Ndiaye’s professorly demeanor cracks a little when he says, “What I am hoping is that people just understand Senegal or Africa is just like any other place that consists of people who … are invested in the development of their country and their continent. [Not] this wasteland like it is portrayed… [There] are people who are interested in shaping their own culture and not necessarily leaving it to others to shape it. Which has been the case throughout Africa’s history.”

Ndiaye has faith that youth activism and programs like his will encourage a generation of globally aware people to take action to change the narrative. In his recent talk at CIEE’s conference on intercultural higher education, “Cinema, Politics, and Study Abroad” highlighted the importance of confronting these preconceptions. He is no idealist, however. Ndiaye is aware that few of his students will become full-time activists. But, he knows that what they have learned while in Dakar will make them game-changers in their own way.

Edited Transcript – Interview Conducted April 9th 2015

Erika Liu: To start off, could you tell me a little bit about what you do for CIEE and what have been your experiences organizing study abroad programs?

Dr. Serigne Ndiaye: I run the whole program. [Laughs] I oversee operations in Senegal. This means making sure that everything runs smoothly and in the spirit of our mission, which is to help people acquire knowledge and an understanding to live in a globally interdependent world. My job here is to make sure that we follow that mission as best as we can.

EL: Along that mission, what do you see students taking away most from this program, beyond and including the academics?

SN: Exposure to cultural difference and the ability to absorb lessons learned in a challenging environment. I think when you are Senegal – and you might be a better position to tell me what you learned – you come out better equipped to face many challenges. You learn to be flexible. You learn to patient. You learn to find different ways to respond to difficulties. The ability to look at reality and find different options – the response isn’t just to say things aren’t going my way so I’m frustrated. Frustration doesn’t lead you very far. You have to discover the resources, the inner resources to turn things around. That is to say, turning disappointments into appointments. [Laughs] I believe that it all caused by the exposure to situations that may or may not be challenging and, also, to situations that let students pull from their inner resources to adapt. These situations of cultural discomfort can be applied to your whole lives back in the States, professional or personal. You will find a way to transcend those situations where all doors are closed. Overcome that challenge. I think whatever you did, wherever you pull your resources from, you can put that to use in new situations.

EL: What are some of the struggles or challenges you have faced as the director of CIEE Dakar and as an intercultural educator?

SN: Reconciling the reality of one culture versus another culture. Not necessarily with ease and comfort, but realizing that that has its own compromises and challenges. We always struggle with the norms of each culture. Why respect these norms? How do you convey that message of mutual respect without simply dictating the terms? For example, the same issues of security there are not the same issues here. People dramatize the things that are not a big deal here. But also, those peopsle can’t take some things lightly just because they don’t believe that it was a problem before coming to Senegal. Also, there is the challenge of keeping the balance that life does not always follow a planned schedule. The hypercontext of the U.S. way is to plan everything out and be on time. In Senegal, we are more flexible. That is a big difference in culture, which many American students struggle to learn. It is a challenge to reconcile the academic of what is outside the U.S. – in this case, in Senegal – with American students. We don’t want our professors to drop their teaching philosophy, but we want to see how to combine that with the U.S. philosophy. Mediating between the two academic cultures, we use student evaluations and create an action plan. We share the evaluation with professors. We don’t want to sacrifice what the professors believe. It is not just what we believe, but also what they believe.

EL: I’d like to visit these ideas of security later. Out of curiosity, what other kinds of feedback do you get about professors?

SN: Sometimes the feedback shows a need for more variety. More precision about assignments, deadlines and so on and so forth. In the last couple of years, things have improved tremendously. In the past, there was a lot of miscommunication.

EL: What would you say has changed to make this turnaround happen?

SN: What is changing is the professors’ need to understanding, better understanding of student expectations. Their ability to adapt to a more American system, which may or may not be a good thing. I’m withholding judgment on that. [Laughs} But, at least in terms of student satisfaction, we have made big steps towards creating a happy environment for students. For example, American students ask, “What will be on the test?” And Senegalese professors say, “Why would I tell you what would be on the test? Would it be a test?” [Laughs] That is one of the big differences between American and Senegalese education. I try to see how these two apparently conflicting views can be mediated. I also participate in trying to make each party understand what they need to do and finding that middle ground. In the US, everything seems to be measured. There, you have expectations of grades, what you are going to be tested on. Here, testing comes from the element of surprise. You have to know everything.

EL: That is very interesting, and very true. I definitely experienced this clash when I was studying abroad with CIEE. I was wondering if I could now turn the focus to something that I know you are involved in and do a lot of research on: Y’en a Marre – a media-based youth political organization that began from the controversy around Abdoulaye Wade. I remember watching their documentary, a documentary about them, in class while I was in Senegal. Why is it important for American students to see this part of Senegalese culture and media?

SN: When students come to Senegal or go abroad, and this is something that I try for more and more again, it is not necessarily to have the same experience they would have in the U.S. it is also to enrich their experiences. To help the students increase self-awareness and values of whom they are, through personal experience created by their own culture and the Senegalese culture. This is done through a better understanding of the people they interact with, the people of Senegal. The culture of Senegal. The world of Senegal. In order for them to try to make connections between their own world and the world of the people they are trying to share a space with and to understand those people better. And for me, the work that Y’en a Marre does participate in: one, breaking boundaries and two, sharing stereotypes of all the people and all the cultures in particular people from Africa. This is just one instance of the great and wonderful things that are being done on the continent by youth. And especially since our students are young people coming to Senegal who are, for the most part, also trying to make a difference. By seeing changes in their own lives they will also make changes in the world. These are ways for us to make connections.

EL: Why do you think that media, especially music and videos, are important to activism in Senegal?

SN: In Senegal, people tend to say that music is for young people, particularly rap music. The thing with music is that it transcends. Especially when the lyrics are important. In the case of Senegal, we have a population that is overwhelming young. That medium is relevant to convey messages. It is also what people use to talk about large cases of interest to the general population. So when you combine the traffic of a large part of the population – that is to say youth – with the rest of the population who may be more curious about the topics these people are discussing. They are thinking of issues of social responsibility, issues of importance to the general population. Music makes it easy to connect.

EL: Are you saying that Y’en a Marre does reach an older audience?

SN: To reach the general population, they also use all the forms. They use press conferences. They use door-to-door campaigns to sensitize people to getting involved. Music is just one aspect. They lead the way, they participate by asking, “What can we do as citizens? What can we contribute?” To all the people. They give information and access to these issues to all the citizens.

EL: Y’en a Marre started as an organization protesting a political regime, how have you seen this organization evolve?

SN: It has evolved a lot. If you look at what happened in Burkina Faso with Balai Citoyen, it is mainly the work of Burkinabe youth. There are tight connections with Y’en a Marre. Y’en a Marre folks were arrested in Democratic Republic of the Congo because they were invited by another activist group. And, the Congolese government is trying to say that these people instill instability in these countries. We can say that Y’en a Marre is spreading. They exist around the continent. It is an evolution of the activism scene. How do we make the young Africans take ownership of the future by getting involved in? It is not just a Senegalese thing, but also an African movement

EL: Do you see Y’en a Marre attracting people around the continent?

SN: It is very attractive. There is an environment where the laws of good governance are not being respected, where your future is in jeopardy and your future is not secure. You have to rebel against the status quo. These people are taking into account what has to be done. You cannot sit and stay passive and expect that your future positively. Young people have always understood this. If we believe that we are the future, they cannot sit around.

EL: Who are these young people joining Y’en a Marre?

SN: They come from all walks of life. They’re trying to create chapters around the continent and membership is free. Anyone who feels that this is his or her fight is free to join. It’s not confined to professionals or students. And maybe that membership can grow with more communication, but it is already free to join.

EL: What do you hope is conveyed about Senegal and Africa through Y’en a Marre’s programs?

SN: What I am hoping is that people just understand Senegal or Africa is just like any other place that consists of people who want something for their countries, for themselves, for their families. They are invested in the development of their country and their continent. Senegal or Africa is not this wasteland like it is portrayed. It is a way for them to convey a realistic message of what it is: A continent of people who have their struggles, just like any other people. If it helps break down stereotypes, not idealize anything. To look at the picture and realize that there are people who are interested in shaping their own culture and not necessarily leaving it to others to shape it. Which has been the case throughout Africa’s history. Y’en a Marre represents the conviction that Africa should be built by African through their beliefs in their own values.

EL: What do you hope that students take away from learning about Y’en a Marre?

SN: Every context is different. Y’en a Marre fights in a struggle depending on the context in which they live. I am not suggesting that students in this program will be activists just like Y’en a Marre, no. I’m trying to say how people can really identify with a cause in life. And understand what their mission and pursue that mission. It does not have to be in field of political activism. It can be in the field of personal activism. It is getting in touch with what is important to us. That is what we try to do and we don’t want everyone just to follow examples. I don’t think that every student will become an activist. But, you are all leaders – maybe not leaders of politics but leaders in your personal lives. I hope students will understand the level of commitment that it takes to exact change in the world. These youth are in the same position, wanting to change their lives and they change the world. Direct impact on how the world is shaped.

EL: I would like to end this interview asking a few questions about the recent Ebola crisis that has touched West Africa, not so much in Senegal directly, but in its media. I watched Y’en a Marre’s video on YouTube. Could you tell me more about how Senegalese media has responded to this crisis?

SN: I think the Senegalese media acted as well and as properly as they could. At some point, it seemed to me that we had just let it all go to Western media to have a monopoly over the kind of information that is on display. I think that it is very sad when we know that there were specialists here who were working on finding a cure in collaboration with maybe the CDC or other research facilities in the West. But, more people put emphasis on the crisis and not enough focus on what is being done – not necessarily from the other side of the Atlantic – but from here. There are researchers and doctors, people who have done tremendous work to curb this crisis, but they are not portrayed as doing very much. This crisis did not go to show, in terms of media coverage, that Africa is not a country. For people who don’t have a great sense of geography, it is hard to understand the difference between Dakar and Cape Town. It takes longer for a person to travel from Dakar to Cape Town than it does for them to go from Dakar to Washington D.C. For them to not know, it is on our government to be as aggressive as possible to work with various partners to show that yes, this is a safe place to live in regardless of what the Western media is saying. Universities are very cautious. They did not believe it was safe to send students to Africa. As much as people love their lives, we love our lives as well. I would not put the lives of those I am responsible of in danger. Overall, there is too much hype. We haven’t taken much time to think about the reality of it. This semester, I tell my students that I am really proud of you. That you went beyond to break down stereotypes. If things would to happen, we are ready to respond. Of course, we, ourselves, try to live as safely as possible.

EL: Does Y’en a Marre portray a correct or popular opinion of the Ebola crisis? Their video is educational as well as political.

SN: Of course, that is a part of their mission too. It is a part of their educational mission for them to do what people need to understand. There are some people who don’t understand, there are people who don’t have access to schools and education. So, no educational media is superfluous. This is done by the TV stations. This is done by Y’en a Marre. This is done by mosques and in churches. This done by community orgs, there is a lot that does not get shared with the rest of the world. People are not reckless. People understand what is going on and what is going to help. Y’en a Marre is one of many initiatives done by African people all around to help with the situation.

Yves Saint Laurent: the Person Is Better than the Movie

Blog post on a cultural experience

Following Coco Chanel, visionary designer Yves Saint Laurent is the latest of France’s fashion revolutionaries to get the star treatment; two biopics in 2014 alone. Unfortunately, his beautiful gowns can’t salvage director Jalil Lespert’s meandering film. Yves Saint Laurent aims to embody the essence of Saint Laurent’s art, but is ultimately missing a seam. Lespert’s clumsy inclusion of Pierre Bergé’s angle turns the film into one that is sumptuously clothed, but void in spirit.

As the film opens, Yves Saint Laurent (Pierre Niney) is already an established protégé of Christian Dior at 21. The film’s Yves is a willowy and shy artistic genius. We follow Yves from his struggle with the responsibility of running Dior, to his emotional breakdown, to his first fashion show under YSL, to his drug abuse and onward into middle age. The film’s notion of this fashion legend – a troubled genius who blossoms in his art but flails elsewhere – is seductive. The film exemplifies this familiar characterization in stunning cinematography but falls short in dramatic progression.

One such scene highlights Niney’s exceptional acting ability, for which he was awarded a César. After his first show as the head of his own fashion house, we can practically see Yves’s shy demeanor shattering while he relishes the glory of a standing ovation – a child basking in praise. This artfully simple moment is telling of Niney’s talent; he is able to capture both the passion of an artistic genius and the anxiety of a precocious young adult. But unfortunately, the film gives Niney no sustained opportunity to develop the character of Yves Saint Laurent.

Lespert’s interpretation of Saint Laurent is cinematically appealing but otherwise inert. The character is devoted to his art to a fault; his Yves never escapes the cliché of a troubled genius. For the majority of the film, the Yves Saint Laurent is reduced to a simpering man-child who thinks of little else other than making pretty clothing to please the crowds. Again and again, Pierre Bergé (Guillaume Gallienne), Saint Laurent’s real-life business and life partner, steals the spotlight to the film’s detriment. From the moment his character is introduced, Pierre distracts the audience from the eponymous hero. One is left wondering just how much direction the real Bergé, who was on set for a part of filming, had in the creation of the film.

Pierre Bergé’s business mentality constantly tugs at the hem of Yves Saint Laurent. The film paints the brand’s decision to create a prêt-a-porter line as one of purely business. Haute couture is financially dead, so Pierre has to decide what is best for YSL. In fact, Saint Laurent was the first designer to construct such a line; he did so as a political declaration. The idea of ready to wear designer clothing was one of democratization and a controversial communalist philosophy.

Nonetheless, YSL brand continues to be highly visible in a business-minded, commercial manner. The dresses featured in the film, which were chosen by Bergé, are all examples of YSL’s most marketable gowns. The film does not venture into YSL’s innovative haute couture, which is riskier and less appealing to the average moviegoer. Notably, very few models of color are used in the film – adding to the prosaic feel of YSL’s clothing. In actuality, Saint Laurent often used models of color in his shows. Several of his muses were of African descent. Yves Saint Laurent also fails to address the issue of French culture in the 20th century, where fashion was a reflection of the tumultuous politics and trends.

Lespert seems to have forgotten the era in which Saint Laurent operated. Saint Laurent did his best work, and revolutionized French fashion in the process, during the “Trentes Glorieuses”. This thirty-year period of economic prosperity from the 1950’s to the 1970’s saw France’s rise to the forefront of art and fashion all over the world. At the same time, the country was dealing with the collapse of its last colonial ventures with the Algerian War in 1958 – when the film begins. Yet, like polite dinner conversation, the film expertly avoids any direct confrontation with troublesome topics. Whenever politics are mentioned, Lespert’s Yves sidesteps the issue. We are left wanting to know more and feeling cheated of the importance of the issues that Lespert should have tackled head on.

In real life, Saint Laurent could not escape the political turmoil of the times. The designer was conscripted in 1960 to fight for the French cause. This forced him to leave his art, and it led to a breakdown caused by homophobic hazing he suffered in the army. Once again, we see none of the inconvenient details. A voiceover simply informs us that the designer was beaten, broken down, and sent to a psychiatric facility. However, when that issue is addressed on screen, Yves is already well into recovery. Only a faint fatigue in Niney’s face and sadness in his eyes betray the gravity of the abuse. Homophobia is barely mentioned again.

Even the Vietnam War and the rise of communist ideals are given the Lespert treatment. Giant cultural events are briefly introduced and quickly whisked away like last season’s patterns. Before we can fully understand the societal movements that inspired the designer, the film cuts to scenes of Yves’s drunken escapades or his lovers’ quarrels with Pierre. Yves Saint Laurent dangles a cultural revelation before us, only to snatch it back and replace it with scenes of Yves’s frivolous personal life. At every turn, Lespert undermines Saint Laurent’s inspirations. In the end, the film is inundated with scenes of the designer’s mood swings and drug abuse.

There were ample opportunities to use fashion and film to construct a commentary on the political issues of 20th century France. But, none of Saint Laurent’s political ideals are explored. None of his cultural influences are explained.  Instead, the character of Pierre Bergé is elevated to that of the long-suffering partner. Although this is not a severe departure from the true events of Saint Laurent’s life, these ending scenes only added on to the unfulfilled feeling of the whole film as a biopic about Yves Saint Laurent – not Pierre Bergé.

For a film about French fashion, Yves Saint Laurent could not be more commercialized and meaningless. Lespert doesn’t make any statements, doesn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers. He blithely glosses over the less pretty aspects of Saint Laurent’s life. Lespert’s safe approach to fashion only reinforces the false impression that the industry is void of deeper meaning.  Niney valiantly tries to bring out the nuances, but he isn’t given the proper environment in which to develop his character. Instead, Pierre Bergé’s business-minded persona steals the show. The film is a fluffy, convenient confection of fashion attempting to summarize the iconic culture of French couture. Unlike its namesake, Yves Saint Laurent presents only empty fashion.

RE: Burying the Hatchet

Letter to the editor

Letter to the Editor – RE: Burying the Hatchet (3/13/15) – Katherine Jordan

Katherine Jordan’s treatment of the issue of comfort women highlights a cardinal rule of politics: Do as much as you can get away with doing. Or – in this case – do as little. By assuming a meager compensation given in 1996 was an adequate apology, the Japanese government has shamelessly shirked its responsibility to the victims of war crimes perpetrated by the Imperial Japanese Army. Jordan says “identifying and compensating former comfort women” must be the first step, but money is a poor substitute for a true acknowledgement of responsibility. There cannot be a price tag for suffering.

Even if Prime Minister Shinzo Abe were to authorize additional compensation tomorrow, the money would not heal the deep wounds felt by many Asian Pacific Rim communities that suffered from Japanese imperialism. More outrageous than viewing the reparations given in 1996 as sufficient, Abe now seeks to erase the victims’ histories from his country’s textbooks – effectively ending any chance for Japan to face its own history.

Only a sincere expression of atonement can begin to resolve the pain caused by these war crimes. Since its 1996 apology letter – which is not acknowledged by Abe’s administration – the government has inadequately addressed the issue of cultural trauma. Monetary compensation can be an easy step in Japan’s responsibility toward its victims, but that is not a sufficient solution to the problem.

You cannot use money to bury a hatchet, especially not one of this size.

 

Cooperation Not Co-optation – Why Valls’s Proposal Against Radicalism Will Fail

Op-Ed

France’s Prime Minister, Manuel Valls, appears in gossip rags almost as much as he does in serious political newspapers. After all, he is the young, upcoming star of the Socialist Party. However, his new plan for the education of imams – the religious leaders of Islamic congregations – is anything but progressive or innovative.

On March 2nd, Valls spoke at the University of Strasbourg about radicalism and secularism. He highlighted his continued concerns regarding these topics, “The rise of radical Islam and the rise of the extreme right” are “two major dangers [to France] that feed off one another.” In particular, he championed an education plan for imams as a solution to France’s burgeoning problem with radicalism. This program includes an assurance of increased dialogue between the Muslim community and the French government. However, the focus of the proposal is a curriculum for imams on the subject of French secularism, laïcité. In other words, the government is seeking to have an active hand in directing the religious doctrine of Islam in France.

Despite Valls’s best efforts to address radicalism, his “solution” will be ineffective and dangerous. This proposal is another step toward the increasing contamination of French laïcité policies by xenophobia. Given the January attacks in Paris, the definite and government-imposed training of imams will become another point of strife within the already tense population. His plan will motivate the very thing that Valls wishes to remedy – radicalism.

The resurgence of extremism in French society can be traced to pervasive xenophobia and the isolation of “foreign” cultures. This is not the first time that France has enacted laws to further the ideal of laïcité. In 2004, the government banned ostentatious religious symbols, such as hijabs or kippahs, in public schools. For some, this prevented religion from entering their child’s education. For many, this law further quarantined sub-cultures and intensified their desire to express their heritage freely. A growing population of young Muslims, many of whom are second-generation immigrants, have started to wear headscarves as a response to the restrictions. Hijabs are now a symbol of cultural expression in a country that tries so hard to suppress it. In its essence, fundamentalism reflects a longing to return to the literal interpretation – the roots – of a belief. Valls forgets that past laws, which limited religious expression, have actually given rise to more extreme schools of thought and practice. Instead of perpetuating the mistakes of the past, Valls should try to remedy them. Valls’s proposal will do nothing to ameliorate the situation, but will only further alienate the growing Muslim population.

Forced assimilation discourages collaborative tolerance.

That isn’t to say that secularism isn’t a worthy goal. At its core, separation of church and state is a noble pursuit, and one that is essential for effective democracy. Originally, laïcité was intended to counteract the dominance of Catholicism. Laïcité laws, mostly addressing public education, had protected freedom of thought from Catholic indoctrination.

Unfortunately, over the past fifteen years, xenophobia has distorted this ideal of secularism. Now, laws overtly favor the native French culture, which has pervasive Catholic roots. For instance, the Christian cross is exempt from the ban on religious symbols in public schools. When secularism is used to counter the dominant religious ethos, it promotes intellectual freedom. The minority perspective is heard and welcomed into the educational dialogue. However, when it is used to silence the minority, it becomes a tool for repression.

Instead of using laïcité to avoid addressing the real issues of an increasingly diverse France, Valls should take this opportunity to address France’s evolving culture. Islam and other sub-cultures are becoming as true to the French identity as baguettes or stinky fromage. A real solution to radicalism would challenge the entrenched notions of Frenchness. Valls’s current plan is symptomatic of the xenophobia that is polluting French policy. This plan reinforces the idea that minority cultures should be quashed and silenced. If Valls does not address France’s present diversity in an open dialogue, the intersection of xenophobia and secularism will ultimately result in a reckoning between France’s dominant and minority cultures. In 2004, the harassment directed at women in head coverings skyrocketed after the ban on hijabs had been enacted. No doubt, if Valls’s plan is enforced, further acts of Islamophobia will follow. Rather than targeting imams and the Muslim population in his ineffective proposal, Valls should seek a substantial cooperation – not co-optation.

Veritas through the Plexiglas

Report on a cultural event

In relation to the politics post-World War I, Winston Churchill said, “History is written by the victors.” This rings true in Harvard University’s Peabody Museum of Archeology and Ethnology. Even as you walk through the newly curated exhibits of the Hall of North American Indians, such as Digging Veritas: The Archeology and History of the Indian College and Student Life at Colonial Harvard, the feeling of inauthenticity lingers. As if only half the story is being told. Nonetheless, this museum – like many others – oozes authority with its ambient lighting and academic labels. Without even realizing it, we put our trust in the Peabody – trusting it to educate us with truths and not just “truthiness”.

In particular, the exhibits on the first floor serve as a crash course on native cultures. In many ways, they are meant to add striking visuals to what we learned in middle school. Numerous rare artifacts help illustrate Native American culture. Dioramas in one corner of the Peabody depict the everyday lives of the peoples.

Each glass case, barely two feet tall, is supposed to encapsulate the customs of an entire community of people. Cotton, painted green and brown, set the rustic scene. Clay, wax, or plastic figurines stand stagnantly in their customary activities. The oldest of these dioramas was made in 1906 – when it was possible to travel and see these cultures firsthand. It was as if the maker of these dioramas knew he had to preserve them in an airtight box before colonialism took it away. This “salvage anthropology” mistakenly tries to capture a culture as if it is static and can be objectively presented for the posterity. In fact, this diorama is only a narrow view of what Native Americans could have been and currently are like.

The Lakota, the Inuit, the Seminole cultures are all conveniently diluted through the plexiglas so that they are easier for us to consume. What the Peabody exhibits is not Native American culture, but an empty shell of it. These are merely artifacts preserved by the victor to be told to future generations. The exhibit’s labels attempt to both recognize and rectify our culpability in the marginalization of Native American culture. In nearly every section, one large plaque is titled “How were skin-working activities affected by European contact?” or “How did fishing activities change with Anglo-American contact?” Through highlighting particular sections of historical background – namely white influence – these plaques serve to admit the museum’s biases.

Even so, the recognition of bias is not the antidote for inauthenticity and misrepresentation. As you dip your toes in each culture of  the horseshoe-shaped exhibit hall, you will eventually come across a larger space. Here, the ceilings stretch up an extra story to accommodate the large totem poles that line the walls.

For many this would have been an impressive sight. But I grew up in the Pacific Northwest. Driving through the greater Seattle area, you can see totem poles at the local salmon chowder house or the park where you walk your dog. Although you probably learned about the Makah, the Tulalip, and the Chinook tribes with the rigidity of any other middle school curriculum, many of the cultures were experienced directly. Every now and then, pow wows occurred at the local high school gym – or whichever venue would suit the event. To say the least, we would not go to a museum to see totem poles.

The Peabody’s original set of totem poles were taken from a temporarily abandoned Tlingit village by white explorers. In accordance to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990, the museum had repatriated the stolen artifacts in 2001. To replace the piece, the Peabody commissioned a new totem pole by a Tlingit carver. Even so, this “authentic” piece of Pacific Coast culture is displaced from its natural context. We have to be careful with the pretty words which wash away the true meaning of each piece. Despite its commendable actions to return the stolen totem poles, the museum still neglects to give true context or meaning to these cultural pieces. Nowhere in this exhibit does a label explain the spiritual meaning of the bear who sits at the bottom, or the fish which crowns the piece. We see so much of Native American culture secondhand that we often lose track of the fact that Native Americans are modern individuals who are more than a museum exhibit or a Hollywood caricature. These artifacts have meaning, a deep meaning that is poorly recognized at the Peabody.

Rounding out the Hall of North American Indians is a small exhibit, relatively new, and one rooted in Harvard’s own history. To no one’s surprise the oldest college in America has archeological relics sitting in the heart of its campus. Digging Veritas boasts a collection of artifacts gathered from a 2009 dig of Harvard Yard. Unlike other exhibits in the Peabody, it consists entirely of objects gathered from the institution’s own property.

The exhibit advertises itself as an archeological dig for the Indian College, an academic institution founded to educate Native Americans who were barred from the colonial ones. Photos of a local chief and students of Native American descent mark the walls closest to the entrance. However, the archaeological analysis barely includes anything about Native American life at the Indian College. Only a few bricks and knickknacks actually came from the Indian College. The curator’s labels candidly admit that many depictions of life at the Indian College are mere conjectures. The archeologists who presented Digging Veritas had tried so hard to reflect a truth that was ultimately inauthentic and decontextualized.

The lack of full-frontal truth in Digging Veritas is only one of the many disappointments in this hall filled with apologetic omissions of information and sweeping statements. Although it is clear that the Peabody Museum is modernizing to better suit the needs of education, we can only hope that it begins to adapt to its understandable inability to present an objective truth. The museum presents a reasonably good effort, but any attempt to depict a culture with plexiglas cases and limited labeling is a sad reification of Native American reality in past and present.

 

From Ceebu Jën to Spaghetti and Back Again

Blog post on a cultural experience

While studying abroad in Senegal, my most cherished activity was cutting tomatoes. I was given a dull knife – for my own safety – and only half the tomatoes – because I was so inefficient. But, I relished the chore. The family maid Adama ruled over the tiled corner room with efficiency and a terrifying orderliness. Only a year older than me, she was already a master of her craft and utterly confident in her domain. Not to be bothered by a clumsy American student. Plus, according to Senegalese tradition, men and guests were not allowed in the kitchen. Even when I had become more family than guest, I had the distinct feeling that Adama was only letting me help so I would stop pestering her. Nonetheless, someone had to cut the tomatoes – numerous tomatoes – which were crucial to the flavor of the quintessential Senegalese dish, ceebu jën (cheh-boo jen).

Ceebu jën literally means rice with fish in Wolof, the regional language. Although the meal sounds simple, it is actually a comprehensive dish that encompasses all the food groups. For casual dining, an entire Senegalese meal is one course, which consists of grain, vegetables, and a protein. This dish is served on a single large saucer, from which everyone eats. You have your own little tranche of the bowl. And, if you’re lucky, you have access to everything you want – some rice, cabbage, and fish – in your own sector. If you’re unlucky, a family member might have to push something over to your part, but you never grab from them.

Since my host family had shared so much of their culture and food with me, I wanted to share a bit of mine with them. Towards the end of my four-month stay, I gathered up the courage and Wolof vocabulary to convince Adama to give me free reign of the kitchen. I had decided to cook a “traditional” American meal, spaghetti and fried chicken. I was extremely proud of this slapdash dinner. For one thing, this gesture of cultural exchange had involved several expeditions to grocery stores and roadside vendors. I also had sheepishly asked Adama for help in bartering with the local halal butcher for the best cut of chicken. Even so, the challenge of gathering the ingredients gave way to a larger culinary adventure.

This was the first time I had cooked a meal from scratch in my host family’s kitchen. We cooked with a cast-iron pot sitting over an uncovered kerosene tank on the ground in one corner of the cubical kitchen. So, I had the pleasure of frying chicken in hot oil up close and personal. Inevitably, splatters burned my wrist. I endured this for an hour and half – a much longer cooking time than it would have been in my American kitchen. Even so, when I declared that dinner was ready, Adama and my host family were amazed.

“It’s done? Already?” My Senegalese family was equal parts surprised and indulgently amused, “That is truly an American meal and not an African one.”

During my four months in Dakar, I had learned that late dinners and a general indifference to timeliness were key Senegalese behaviors. The fastest food was at the school cantina. Even then, pre-prepared plates of maafe or yassa poulet required a ten to thirty minute wait. Nonetheless, I wasn’t sure what my host family meant by, “Already?” Martha Stewart would certainly say you were doing something wrong if cooking spaghetti and fried chicken took you ninety minutes. As I discovered much later, Adama had made a difficult and grueling task seem effortless.

I didn’t know how long African, or at least Senegalese, cooking actually took. That is, until a few weeks ago. I decided to make the classic ceebu jën to pass the experience of “eating around the bowl” to my American family. Just one plate of ceebu jën, how hard could it be?

Harder than convincing Adama to let me help in the kitchen. The dish naturally preserves all the flavors of each ingredient – meaning every piece of fried fish, carrot, or tomato had to be added and removed to ensure the essence of each element without overcooking it. I finally understood why Adama was so eager to have me out of the kitchen. Timing the addition and removal of ingredients was crucial – and difficult to execute with distractions. Channeling Adama’s gently assertive tone, I shooed my parents away from my kitchen whenever they asked me, “Is it done, yet?”

In the end, I spent five hours cooking ceebu jën. Five hours of adding and removing ingredients. Five hours of crumbling spices into the broth. Five hours of burning my fingertips. These were the same five hours Adama spent every day in the kitchen to cook for the family. The same five hours I never thought twice about while I cut those tomatoes. Cooking ceebu jën re-opened my eyes to the richness of a culture that is not as punctual as our own. Ceebu jën requires more time, but it is far more gratifying than a plate of spaghetti and fried chicken.