When President Obama visited Senegal in June 2013, it’s rumored that he stepped off Air Force One and said, "Ñoo far," which means “we are together” in Wolof. Whether or not this account is actually true, the pride and warmth with which my host family spoke of it is indicative of language’s significance in Senegalese society. In a country with over ten ethnic groups and 38 languages, differences and diversity thrive thanks to Wolof—a lingua franca that transcends ethnic and linguistic boundaries to reinforce an overarching Senegalese identity. It wasn’t until I was two months into my stay that I felt confident enough to start using Wolof in lieu of French, but when I made that switch I immediately encountered more intimate and sincere interactions with Senegalese people and culture.
As a relic of Senegal’s colonial past, French is technically the country’s official language and has significant political and economic power in Senegalese society. It’s the language of instruction in public schools across the country, as well as the language of bureaucracy and governance. Proficiency in French is therefore considered a basic requirement for accessing opportunity and achieving success. Given the importance of French in Senegal, I began my study abroad sure that I would be able to competently communicate with people and easily navigate social interactions. I quickly found, however, that although I could hold intelligible conversations, I wasn’t truly connecting with anyone. There was a barrier that I couldn’t overcome, a distance that resulted in short, tepid exchanges. As time passed, I realized that French, while sometimes used by West African immigrants who haven’t yet mastered Wolof, is rarely spoken outside of school and work. Even my host family only used French when they were talking directly to me. By trying to communicate with people in French, I confirmed that I was an outsider, a toubab who was most likely on a luxurious vacation in Senegal. Because I wasn’t actually speaking their language, I struggled to engage with Senegalese during the first half of study abroad.
My experience changed dramatically when I began to tentatively use Wolof to greet strangers, bargain for taxis, and buy snacks from street vendors. Instead of bland, to-the-point interactions in French, I had genuine, lively conversations in Wolof. Although I definitely had more fluid and comprehensible discussions in French, I showed a sincere interest in Senegalese culture when I stumbled through Wolof. People were almost always excited by my attempts, and even simple salutations in Wolof were met with encouragement and enthusiasm. I made friends with shop owners and vendors who had previously been strangers, and I was better prepared to respond to tricky social situations, especially aggressive marriage proposals or visa requests. Thus, while French may be the language of political and economic power in Senegal, Wolof is the language of social power and community.
Practically everyone uses Wolof, even those who don’t belong to the Wolof ethnic group, as it is the most widely spoken language in Senegal. For example, my host family is Serer. But out of my 14-person household, only my host dad actually knows Serer. The significance of Wolof in Senegalese society is undeniable, but it’s worth noting that some people don’t consider “Wolofization”—the spread of Wolof as a lingua franca—to be a good thing. Pulaar-speaking groups in rural areas have contested Wolof’s linguistic dominance. When I visited a village in northern Senegal, many people claimed that Wolof is not the true language of Senegal and insisted that I should learn Pulaar instead. Interestingly, I did not see a similar resistance against Wolof when I went to the Casamance, a region in southern Senegal with strong separatist sentiments. I thought that 30 years of conflict and violence within the region might lead the people of Casamance to break away from Senegal. I even made sure to learn some of the local language, Jolla, before I left. Yet surprisingly, I did not encounter anyone who had an issue speaking Wolof here. From my experiences, I found that Wolof facilitates an inclusive Senegalese identity, which transcends ethnic and linguistic differences—including my own.
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