one Bob, Toubab, Three Bob, Four

Hey homies.


For those not in on the West African lingo, “toubab” is the word, in all languages, used for all foreigners. This article is about my experiences and feelings around being a toubab in West Africa.
Innitially, I was pissed off. I still get irritated from time to time. From my American perspective, it really does seem like rampant racism. People don’t ask my name, they just say “toubab!”. This happens every single time I leave my house. Children, adults, old people. Everyone. I don’t think I can explain fully how this feels, its just something to be experienced. Yes, this is random people on the street, but also people who I am meeting and foresee having a relationship with, and from my American perspective, that’s a real pisser. For real, how dare you refer to me by my race or by an aspect of how I look? Not using my name denies me a personhood. I would never ever, call someone “Hey Black person!” and expect them to turn around. More irritating is when they are talking about me right in front of me, and don’t think that I know what they are saying.

That being said, I’ve been able to come to peace with it, most of the time. Its just not rude here. Racism, as I know it, doesn’t exist. From their perspective, why would I not want to be called toubab, when I so obviously am one? Once I understand that they are not trying to be rude to me, I can handle it (most of the time). I can also say “Mufingo!” which means “black person!” and no one minds, honestly they just smile and wave back. It doesn’t feel quite right and so I don‘t usually do that, but again, racism as I know it doesn’t exist here. In fact, culturally, its polite to greet everyone, and so they are just getting my attention the only way they know how(other ways include hey girl (sunkuto), woman (musoo)hey white woman, hey boss lady, and making a hissing noise at me). When its just a small group of people, or it’s a group of people who I think I will need to have a relationship with, I’ve been fairly successful in explaining in Mandinka “Don’t call me toubab, my name is not toubab. When you see me, say ‘Faatu!’ Say, ‘hows the afternoon?’ Say, ‘hows your family?’ But don’t say toubab because its not nice.” As long as I say that in a nice friendly way, it works. If I’m irritated, and they can sense it, they usually keep up with the toubabs, because its fun to piss someone off, right? ;-)

More irritating, is that what often follows the “hey toubab!” is a request for material goods. Europeans are forever coming to Africa and giving things away. Most commonly, they give candy and pens (Seriously? Pens? Do you think you’re reducing poverty by giving away pens? If you really really can‘t help but give something, give tomatoes or carrots, or something else healthy that you bought here in the market, not pens). And of course, cash. And so the conversation goes like this, in any language.
“Toubab, give me pen. Toubab, give me money. Toubab, give me minties.”
I just get so frustrated when I feel that people think that’s all I’m good for is getting stuff. These habits of begging do a lot of hurt in the long run. It causes people here to wait for a toubab to come along to solve their problems, rather than having faith in their own abilities. Just saying that I don’t have any of whatever they are requesting usually works for the moment, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t ask the next toubab they see, or won’t ask me again tomorrow, for that matter. And why should me saying no deter them from asking, when there are so many toubabs coming over and handing stuff out all the time? I can’t change that expectation all by myself. Sometimes I just laugh and say in Mandinka “No! You give ME money! You give ME minties!” Or “You give me your shirt!” Joking is a big part of the culture, and usually that gets a laugh….

Then there is the issue of being a toubab woman which could fill a blog entry all in itself. Look for a future blog article about Bumsters, and how this relates to being a toubab woman. It’ll be a doozy.
Love to you all.