Stepping onto the bustling streets of Dakar, a subtle sense of apprehension accompanied me. The reason? The recent Africa Cup of Nations (CAN) final. It’s a narrative many are familiar with, a football match that, some suggest, has become a contentious point, souring the historical bond between Morocco and Senegal. While this sentiment is widely discussed, its truth feels palpable.
Amadou, my taxi driver, a man in his fifties with a warm smile and courteous demeanor, quickly discerned my Moroccan origin. Our conversation drifted across various topics until, with a thoughtful pause, he remarked, “Despite everything, Senegal and Morocco remain brothers…”
That simple phrase, “despite everything,” resonated deeply. It subtly suggested that the proclaimed fraternity was, in fact, being challenged. Could a single football game truly possess the power to fracture such deep-rooted ties? Or did it merely serve as a catalyst, a final straw, revealing underlying tensions that were already on the brink?
The specter of the CAN final seemed to lurk in every corner of conversation, threatening to cast a pall over any interaction. In the vibrant bazaars of the Plateau district, a central hub in the city, we found ourselves haggling over the price of local fabric. The merchant, assessing his customers, quoted, “That’s 13,000 XOF (CFA francs) per meter.” My offers of 10,000, then 11,000, were met with firm rejections. I resorted to the classic appeal: “We are your brothers from Morocco!” This invocation of brotherhood, often paired with a heartfelt “assalamou alaykoum” to signify shared faith, typically melts resistance and lowers prices across Africa. Not here. The merchant stiffened, a sudden surge of indignation in his voice: “Ah, if it’s Morocco, then it’s 20,000 XOF!”
“one must hope these complex emotions will soon dissipate, in both Senegal and Morocco…”
His tone was unmistakable: “I’m no longer interested in selling to you!” We were indirectly, yet firmly, ushered out of the bazaar, feeling almost like intruders.
Later, a human rights activist, engaged in the fight against female genital mutilation, interjected during a discussion: “Please, release our brothers detained in Morocco; what are you waiting for?” The plea for the release of Senegalese supporters arrested and tried after the infamous final echoed as a recurring theme, voiced by other individuals we encountered.
Some openly admitted to boycotting Moroccan-owned businesses. They spoke with raw honesty, devoid of the diplomatic niceties or sales pitches. Even as they softened their stance with, “In Senegal, we truly cherish Moroccans…”
This affirmation, while likely sincere, felt incomplete. It carried an unspoken weight, a series of ellipses that each person could fill with words like anger, frustration, misunderstanding, or even profound hurt. One must hope these complex emotions will soon dissipate, in both Senegal and Morocco.
Ultimately, governments and football federations will find common ground and reconcile; shared interests, guided by reason, invariably prevail. However, the wounds of individuals, those heal differently, and often, much more slowly.
My visit to Senegal was, as they say, brief yet impactful. It was undoubtedly colored by the aforementioned tensions, but never to the point of being ruined. Many residents of Dakar, with their inherent warmth, infectious joy, and genuine friendship – devoid of any unspoken reservations – ensured it remained a truly endearing experience.