Caitlin Fross on Religious Tolerance and Coexisting in Senegal

By: Caitlin Fross

November 7, 2009

To step outside around 2:00 p.m. on any given Friday in Dakar is to walk into a muted city, because almost every citizen on the street has stopped to pray. The roads are lined with segregated groups of men and women kneeling on prayer mats in synchronized worship and the only people moving among the crowds are the occasional hapless tourist or American student. When the mosque calls the end to the prayer, these crowds spill onto the streets, creating an impressive torrent as the Senegalese continue about their day. Although the mosqueÂ’s call to prayer can be heard five times a day from practically anywhere in Dakar, it is only once a week that this larger assemblage meets. On Friday afternoons the alleys and sidewalks are filled to the bursting because the mosques literally cannot accommodate such impressive numbers.

With the vast majority of the nation following Islamic practices, finding the minute Christian community proves a difficult task. However, having been to church in a variety of settings, I have managed to catch a glimpse of the different facets of this elusive congregation. There are three types of services offered, three flavors of Christianity that I have noted so far: services offered in English for the missionary and diplomatic communities in Dakar; French services catering to the urban, educated Senegalese and international communities; and services offered in Wolof to make church accessible to the larger population.

Despite this effort to open the doors to many different groups, the truth is that Islam dominates society and holds a religious monopoly that is almost absolute. To ask a taxi driver to drop you off near a mosque is a simple request. Taking that same cab to a church requires complicated directions and a variety of landmarks because the Christian community is so small as to be, if not unnoticed, then at least ignored. A positive side effect of this religious homogeneity is the relatively pervasive tolerance between Muslims and Christians in Senegal. Apart from a slight expression of distaste in daily conversation, displayed each time I announce to my host family that I am headed to church, there are no widespread exhibitions of discord to be found. This stems largely from the undeniable fact that the Muslim majority of 95 percent is all-powerful and will never be threatened by the 4 percent who head to the church instead of the mosque.

Despite attending church myself, the sound of the mosque has become such an integral part of the greater rhythm of my life here in Senegal that when I travel throughout the country, I notice its absence. In early November I visited the small village of Fadiout, a Catholic community situated on an island constructed entirely of seashells and best known for living in peaceful cohabitation with its Muslim neighbors of Joal. Perhaps the most concrete testament to this lifestyle is the cemetery connected to the island by a footbridge that holds both Muslim and Catholic headstones. This is the only cemetery in Senegal to belong to two distinct religions in different sections of the same graveyard, and the people living in Fadiout and the neighboring Muslim community of Joal are very proud of their religious tolerance. When a hurricane destroyed the roof of the Saint Francois Xavier Church several years ago, the entire island banded together to repair it, with Muslims, Christians, and animists working side by side. This small population has moved beyond tolerance to acceptance but in doing so, represents the exception when the norm is an intentional and reciprocated disregard for the other.

When preparing to come to Senegal at the end of August, I braced myself for a certain level of tension between the Muslim and Christian communities, specifically between the American students and our host families. Having now been here for three months I have come to realize that the conflict I foresaw simply does not exist and that instead of societal discord, the sense of security felt by the majority lends itself to a greater harmony and stability between the two congregations.

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