My initial arrival in Dakar was tinged with a slight apprehension. The reason? The African Cup of Nations (CAN) final. This particular match has unfortunately become a contentious point, reportedly souring the relationship between Morocco and Senegal – a sentiment widely acknowledged.
Amadou, a courteous and smiling taxi driver in his fifties, immediately recognized my Moroccan origin. Our conversation flowed easily until he remarked, «Despite everything, Senegal and Morocco are brothers…». It was that “despite everything” that resonated, transforming a statement of fraternity into an implicit acknowledgment of underlying tension. Can a single football game truly fracture such deep bonds, or did it merely expose existing fragilities?
The subject of the CAN final seemed to lurk in every corner, a hidden presence ready to cast a shadow over any discussion. In the bustling Plateau district bazaars, while haggling for local fabric, the merchant quoted a price based on his assessment of me. «It’s 13,000 XOF (CFA francs) per meter». My offers of 10,000, then 11,000, were rejected. I resorted to the classic appeal: «We are your brothers from Morocco!» This invocation of shared brotherhood, or a heartfelt «assalamou alaykoum» to signify religious kinship, typically eases negotiations and lowers prices across Africa. Not this time. The merchant stiffened, his demeanor changing abruptly: «Ah, if it’s Morocco, then it’s 20,000 XOF!»
«One hopes these complex sentiments will soon dissipate, in both Senegal and Morocco…»
This was his way of saying, «I’m no longer interested in selling!» We were implicitly urged to leave the bazaar, almost as if we were unwelcome.
Later, a human rights activist dedicated to combating female genital mutilation interjected, «Please, release our brothers detained in Morocco; what are you waiting for?» This demand for the release of Senegalese supporters arrested and tried after the infamous final reappeared as a recurring theme in conversations with various individuals.
Some individuals openly admitted to boycotting Moroccan-owned businesses. They spoke candidly, without the diplomatic niceties or sales pitches, though they often added, to soften the atmosphere, «In Senegal, we genuinely like Moroccans…».
While this statement is likely true, it feels incomplete. The ellipsis suggests unspoken sentiments: anger, frustration, misunderstanding, and even lingering hurt. It is crucial to hope that these complex emotions will soon fade naturally, in both Senegal and Morocco.
Governments and federations will eventually reconcile, as shared interests and reason ultimately prevail. However, the healing of human emotions and individual grievances often takes a different, much slower path.
My time in Senegal, though brief, was profoundly impactful. While the aforementioned tensions created some discomfort, they did not overshadow the experience. The warmth, vibrant spirit, and genuine, unreserved friendship of countless Dakar residents made the visit truly memorable!
