Toubabou Spectacle

I was introduced to the term “toubab” during my stay in Bamako, Mali. This word is used to describe foreigners. Young children use the word the most, automatically calling me “toubabou” as they might identify a donkey, or like children in the United States call out “doggie” at the sight of a dog. There are several interpretations, some of which I’ve read about and some shared with me by people I met in Bamako. Generally speaking, most people agree that it is not a derogatory term. However its origin and usage reflect the colonial history of West Africa. The French dictionary identifies Arabic as the source language and narrows the “foreign” reference to people of European descent. Although, children referred to me as “toubabou,” some adults wondered if I was Indian or Sri Lankan. Most were satisfied when I referred to myself as American. There is also an aspect of skin color. While walking one day, a young man selling t-shirts noticed my acknowledgement of a toddler calling out to me “Toubabou! Toubabou!” Arranging our arms together, he pointed to his arm and said “Afrique” and then pointing to mine he said “Toubabou.” The contrast between our skin tones was strikingly beautiful and illustrated the racial undertone in the word. It’s also a preoccupation I bring from the United States. In trying to learn the subtly of meaning, I began to ask if African Americans are considered toubabs. The answer was a clear “no.” I found myself a little uncomfortable with my new identity. In the United States, I can be categorized as a person-of-color (I’m a Peruvian raised in Chicago) but in Mali, I am lumped together into another broad grouping of mixed heritages and traditions, European and American, and who knows what else.

However, watching the inauguration of President Obama from the American Club in Bamako was particularly heartening. His brave acknowledgement of the complexity of identity and history during the campaign sheltered my unresolved feelings about “nationality.” I felt the symbolic knock to colonialism.

As a community muralist formed by the anti-war movement, feminism, and identity politics, I see traces of modern independence struggles in the seeming popularity of Che Guevara. Che’s face is found in graffiti, in advertisements, in murals. An iconic symbol of anti-imperialism I can see his relevance to Mali’s independence struggle. Today Mali has a democratically elected government, although there was a military coup-de-tat in1968. But this isn’t the only significant cultural connection between Mali and Cuba. Cuban artists regularly study at the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers Multimédia Balla Fasséké Kouyaté de Bamako and Malian artists studied in Cuba. I learned this while visiting the Conservatoire, an impressive graduate program in visual, performing, and multi-media arts. Latin America is not unknown, as I found out from a worldly “taxi man” who distinguished me from my traveling companions by asking “Sud Americaine?” In addition, Salsa music is a regular offering in nightclubs. There is even a nod to Iberian traditions with a tapas bar near where we stayed. At the Festival on the Niger, an annual international music festival in Segou, a marimba group from Michoacan Mexico performed to the delight of the local audience; the two countries and cultures bound by the evolution of the marimba from the African balaphone. Latin American soap operas are enjoyed along with African soap operas, translated into French and viewed on satellite TV. Similar plot narratives like the innocent country girl taken advantage of by urban relatives or employers captivate fans on both continents. Still, my toubabou status made me an instant celebrity, particularly when painting the mural with the help of European volunteers. We provided a spectacle that never got boring! You can read about the mural project at storytellingwalls.blogspot.com