A Saint in the City: Sufi Arts of Urban Senegal.

A Saint in the City Sufi Arts of Urban Senegal

Allen F. Roberts and Mary Nooter Roberts With Gassia Armenian and Ousmane Gueye

UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History, Los Angeles, 2003. Distributed by the University of Washington Press, Seattle. 284 pp., 274 color illustrations, map, glossary, notes, bibliography, index. $45 softcover.

A vast corpus of scholarly materials addresses the cultural and political history of Senegal. These works can be read alongside those concerned with traditions of postcolonial literature, film, and, to a lesser degree, fine arts to give a fascinating picture of an exceedingly complex and rich society. It is therefore noteworthy that with this publication and exhibition (shown at the UCLA Fowler Museum from February 9 to July 27, 2003), Allen E Roberts and Mary Nooter Roberts have carved out a distinctive niche within this literature by taking a much-needed look at the visual imaginary and practices of the Mourides of Senegal.

The Mourides are the most influential of the Sufi brotherhoods in Senegal and have created a cultural system of beliefs, practices, myths, narratives, imagery, and socio-politico economic structures which surround and support their devotion to their saint, Sheikh Amadou Bamba (1853-1927). In this catalogue the Robertses seek nothing less than to envelop the reader in what they call an "imagorium" of Mouridism--a neologism they apply primarily to the architectural and built spaces in which the devotees surround themselves with images of the saint. Through their intense research efforts and abilities to find and display a vast array of visual practices related to a "Mouride Way" of seeing, the authors have created their own sanctum.

One becomes aware almost immediately upon opening this publication and glancing through the wide-ranging chapters and the innocuously titled but extremely important "Notes to Readers" that this book is much more than a catalogue, a mere documentation of a visual presentation. In fact, as I shall argue below, it is the Robertses' desire for it to play a double role as catalogue and scholarly work that causes frustration at times for its readers and leads one to question if two publications might have been better than one. (It is worth noting that a number of the chapters within the catalogue have already been published in scholarly journals.)

The authors situate their work within reflexive visual anthropology and focus our attention upon systems of visuality, addressing the profound connections between visual piety, devotion, and practice. The variety of images and practices presented within the publication is truly impressive, ranging from glass painting, scripted forms, and contemporary arts in a number of media, architecture, textiles, and murals. As Maria Berns, director of the Fowler Museum, notes in her foreword, the authors are clearly concerned with "relinquishing art-world hierarchies," gathering together images of devotion "whether they are categorized as urban, popular, tourist, devotional, or international" (p. 9). As one leafs through the images, it is refreshing to see that an exhibition and research project such as this can result in such an impressive collection of arts for the Fowler's permanent collection.

The publication is divided into ten chapters, all generously endowed with good-quality color images and multiple "sidebars" which carry comments and testimonies of devotees, artists, and informants whose views the Robertses, as the main narrators of the book, seek to present. The chapters do vary significantly, however, in the depth of analysis and the strength of linkage to the central premises of the research. With a diverse set of approaches and a collection of multiple voices, the authors hope to vary the rhythm of the book and achieve the greatest breadth of audience.

Before engaging with the main body of the text, one must first turn briefly to "Notes to Readers" (p. 18) in order to comprehend the immensity and complexity of the project the authors set for themselves. They write:

   We hope to present Mouride views in
   this book as Mourides themselves might.
   In "seeking new ways to represent adequately
   the authority of informants,"
   as James Clifford (1988, 45) has urged
   and many others have achieved over the
   course of the last fifteen years, we are
   only acknowledging that Mourides have
   a right to speak for themselves....

Few would argue with this admirable goal, but achieving it is a tricky process, and one is led immediately to question why there are not more Senegalese contributors to the catalogue beyond Mamadou Diouf, who writes a short, endorsing preface. Surely there are numerous Sufi scholars who might have contributed beyond sidebars.

While hoping to present "Mouride views" (p. 18), the authors quickly acknowledge that such a project is fraught with potential misreadings, for immediately they must deal with the assumptions that the writings ad dress the views of all Mourides or indeed all Senegalese Sufis, when, in fact, they "reflect the views of a very few individuals and the deductions we have drawn from what they have told us and what we ourselves have observed and experienced" (p. 19). While this disclaimer may be found in any reflexive anthropological endeavor, it does have special emphasis here, as the crux of this project is essentially to present an encompassing "world view" of a set of people--a project which in and of itself is at the heart of anthropological tradition.

Beyond these claims are two equally important authorial choices that enable the reader to better understand the tone of the texts that follow. First, as mentioned above, the Robertses have decided to address academic issues in some of the chapters, while intending the other chapters to be "more descriptive and written more directly in the voices of Mouride artists--without footnotes" (p. 18). The second related approach is the wish to "test and develop theories concerning visual expression that may be applied beyond Senegal" (p. 19). Asserting that "... the collective disciplines of African Studies are all too often marginalized with regard to exploration of the issues and ideas felt to be at the 'cutting edge' of academic discourse in the West" (p. 19), the authors deftly borrow from a number of poststructuralist theorists of visual culture such as W.J.T. Mitchell and John Tagg. The key here is that in pursuing this goal, the theoretical arguments that follow must not unravel into a mere academic exercise of name-dropping that does little to illuminate the material at hand. For the most part, the authors avoid this trap. However, because of the mixed character of the book (catalogue / scholarly), one looks at times for a continuation of intriguing arguments left short.

In the introduction the reader is presented with the dual concepts of Aura and Icon as reference points in the journey to mapping Mouride visuality. As the Robertses acknowledge, use of both these terms must be carefully circumscribed, as they have been applied in myriad ways by a host of art historians and cultural theorists. The term aura, with its associations of authenticity, power, and presence in a work of art, proves to be apt for elucidating the primary concerns of this book. The authors employ this term as they trace the active presence of spirituality within imagery and seek to understand the devotee's communion with the saint through a process of hagiography. The kind of physical relationship that the Mourides share with images of Amadou Bamba enlivens and electrifies artistic, ritual, and everyday life activities as followers seek the baraka, for blessing, of the saint. Here the authors draw informative comparisons with work by David Morgan on devotional practices of Christians and their connection to images of the Virgin Mary.

There is only one extant photo of Sheikh Amadou Bamba, taken in 1913 and published in 1917, which shows a diminutive figure, in a stiff frontal pose, swathed in a white kaftan, race squinting in the bright sunshine and partially hidden in shadows. It is from this one image that the corpus of devotional imagery has grown. The Robertses are quite insistent that these multiple productions of Bamba in a variety of media and locations should be seen as presentations rather than representations of the saint. Part of the belief in baraka is of course that one is able to interact with and receive blessing from the image, which is essentially one's link to Amadou Bamba and through him to Allah, each time it is produced or viewed. To this end, the visual preoccupation with one photograph of the saint's figure clearly challenges beliefs that Islam prohibits the fashioning of figurative imagery, and indeed proves that the image of a marabout may serve as an icon for the faithful.

The investigation of the prolific relationship between the extant photograph and the Mouride visual lexicon is the subject of the first chapter, "Mystical Reproductions: Photography and the Authentic Simulacrum," which I would argue is one of the most intriguing chapters in the catalogue. As the title indicates, the authors draw upon the theoretical tools of contemporary photography through the works of Jean Baudrillard, Susan Sontag, Roland Barthes, Walter Benjamin, and Douglas Crimp, among others, to situate the practice of "reproduction" and simulation of the Bamba image and to understand its potent presence within the lives of believers. They argue that the extant photograph has an aura (in response to Benjamin) "not only despite but in some sense because of infinite mechanical reproduction" (p. 46) across media and within a variety of contexts. The Mourides have in fact developed a far-reaching symbolism around the various attributes seen within the original photograph. Yet the obvious features of the photograph--dress, stance, light and shadow--all represent merely the most superficial meaning. As the Robertses assert, for Mourides "all aspects of existence--including photographs--possess a 'secret side,' called batin" (p. 47). They are open to constant and varied acts of interpretation which activate the image and give it a talismanic role. Thus, the secret knowledge and the process of seeking it are as important as that which is evident. That which appears, at first glance, as absence may indicate spiritual presence. This fascinating chapter concludes with a discussion of the compositional arrangement of calligrams based upon the 1913 photograph. This nexus of word and image, considered in much greater depth in chapter seven, underscores the "textual transubstantiation that is the ultimate goal of Sufism" (p. 57).

In chapter two the authors develop their compelling idea of an imagorium to understand the significance of space and place within the Mouride way of life. Again, the emphasis here is upon the way these spaces, through the hyperinflation of Bamba imagery, have an affecting presence and are infused with baraka. Furthermore, as in the preceding chapter, the authors focus our attention on what they see to be a central premise of Mouride visuality: the dialectic between display and secrecy. The text centers on the compound of one marabout whose home is filled both inside and out with devotional imagery and serves as a site for the meetings of talibes (followers). The engagement of the talibes with the images painted in a realist and hyperrealist style enables contemplation and eventually a sense of devotional ecstasy. This state of spiritual joy can only be achieved when the viewers are able to "pierce" (p. 77) the images to discover their "hidden side" (p. 78).

In chapter three the authors begin to investigate the "visual-verbal nexus" that is central to the Mouride visual system. Ostensibly a look at the centrality of glass paintings in the development of Mouride devotional imagery and ways of seeing, this chapter moves beyond traditional sources on the subject (from Bouttiaux-N'Diaye 1994 and Renaudeau & Strobel 1984) to think about the process of hagiography in relation to repeated images of Bamba, his miracles, and his life, and considers glass paintings as "imagetexts."

Of course the spread and popularity of glass paintings first came about because of the ban on devotional literature by the French authorities in 1908. The ban produced an early marriage of narrative and visual with the glass paintings, unbeknownst to colonial authorities, serving as vehicles for remembering the stories and teachings of the Koran, and then later, those surrounding Bamba.

The Robertses argue that the image of Amadou Bamba (in the extant photograph) may serve as a lieu de memoire, an axis around which Mouride belief rotates. The scenes on glass paintings could function in a similar manner, allowing devotees to remember the multiple writings of and about the saint and the lessons of the Koran, and to connect their lives directly to that of Bamba, which is "constructed and reconstructed in endless refabulation" (p. 85). In this way the saint's life is always present, always relevant.

One of the most noticeable populations in urban spaces in Senegal are the Baye Fall, a group within the Mouride community that reveres the memory of Sheikh Ibra Fall (also known as Lamp Fall), who was the most fervent disciple of Sheikh Amadou Bamba. As with Bamba there seems to be only one extant photograph of Lamp Fall; in it he is dressed (in stark contrast to Bamba) in dark, flowing robes, which have been interpreted by followers as evidence of his dedication to a life of labor. In chapter four the Robertses take a brief look at the beliefs, practices, and visual iconography of the Baye Fall. Lamp Fall was best known for his devotion to Bamba and his sacrifices to physical labor and provisions for those in need (both within his family and beyond, into the Mouride community).

To understand the attraction to Fall and his importance to both the Baye Fall and a broader Mouride population, one need only remember Bamba's words "Work as if you'll never die" and the Mouride saying "Work is the key to Paradise" (p. 113). It is understood that Sheikh Bamba granted his followers special exemption from strict Muslim devotional practices to allow them to work and support their families and their communities in the harsh environment of Senegal. As a result, there developed a belief in a blend of strong physical labor, alms-giving, and piety. The Baye Fall have crafted a subculture within the Mouride world, complete with distinctive modes of dress, song and dance, and visual imagery. This chapter unfortunately provides only a brief analysis of this fascinating set of aesthetic practices.

In "Walls That Speak: Public Art and Postcolonial Memory," the painted murals of a spontaneous youth movement in 1988 and 1989 in Dakar, known as Set/Setal, become the focus of study. Taking its name from a song by the Senegalese musician Youssou N'Dour which encouraged the nation's youth to clean up the city and thus clean their souls, this popular movement led to intriguing portraits of local history and memory and efforts at redefining an urban postcolonial space. The Robertses are most concerned with the oeuvre of one of the most prolific of these artists, Papisto Boy, a Mouride whose depictions of Bamba and multiple scenes of devotion and sociopolitical commentary filled large sweeps of industrial walls. Drawing on the writings of John Tagg and Michel de Certeau, they consider these images, and those of his fellow muralists, as works that actively create "transcolonial" museums that directly challenge the hegemonic narratives of nationhood and sociopolitical identities. These murals, as counterpoints to more dominant colonial museums, are critical sites of resistance and creation. While this thesis is certainly viable, the authors' argument would be better developed were it placed within a broader discussion of the national, transcolonial contemporary space. As is often the case within this study, one is left feeling adrift within the larger realities of Senegal, in both its present state and its colonial and post-Independence history. Surely this discussion of murals presented an opportunity to place the Mouride Way within a broader context of the social framework. What "transcoloniality" are these young muralists imagining for themselves beyond their Mouride community?

As stated above, the Robertses purposely left some of the chapters in this volume brief in order to create a more readable volume for the nonspecialist. This is certainly a shame when it comes to discussions of Mouride women in chapter six, contemporary art in chapter eight, and "Pilgrimage and Exile" in chapter ten. The result is a gnawing feeling that the curators/authors felt they had to cover an expected set of materials but didn't trust the readers to pay attention through the length of the study. The chapter on Mouride women focuses on the practices and visual hagiography honoring Amadou Bamba's mother, Mame Diarra Bousso, particularly among Mouride women. The discussion comparing the iconography of Mame Diarra Bousso and the Virgin Mary is enticing, and so are the brief remarks about women's sartorial savvy and women's place in Mouride practices. The authors then veer away from the visuality they take as their main subject, however, and begin instead to focus on women's songs. The parallels with Marian visual imagery would have allowed a more nuanced discussion of the relationship between the small but longstanding Catholic community in Senegal and the Mourides. While over ninety percent of the population of Senegal is Muslim, they have been remarkably tolerant of minorities--Leopold Senghor, first president of Senegal, came from this Catholic minority.

The chapter on contemporary arts is similarly promising, but too short and undertheorized to stand alongside others in the collection. While the presentation of artists' words is surely important, at this stage in the development of the field of study around contemporary arts from Africa, and Senegal in particular, with its central place in the global art biennale circuit, this cursory look at four artists seems out of place. The authors admittedly are only interested in dealing with the Mouride elements or beliefs in the works of a select few (Moussa Tine, Amadou Chalys Leye, Viye Diba, and Moustapha Dime), but even these artists are part of a larger matrix that has been engaged with avant-garde histories, nationalist patronage, the growth of tourist markets, and global interest in non-Western contemporary arts. Moreover, an opportunity has been missed here to discuss networks of patronage for these artists that may exist within the Mouride and broader community. But perhaps more importantly, their being singled out as "contemporary" artists among all the other creators in the book serves to perpetuate the very distinctions that the authors profess to break down in their collecting efforts.

Within the second half of the book, with its more descriptive material, one also finds two heavily footnoted chapters. Chapter seven deals explicitly with the word and image nexus that pervades the book, considering the importance of Amadou Bamba's texts, their study, and their visualization and activation. The apotropaic powers of Arabic letters, phrases, verses, and writing themselves are central to Mouride belief systems and, indeed, Sufi mysticism more generally. The ability to read, write, and engage with the letters affords levels of secret knowledge, access to the batin and the baraka of the saint. Much of the material on Sufi mysticism, words, and numeric values has been written elsewhere. Each letter in the Arabic alphabet has a numerical value from which khatems, or magical squares, can be made to harness divine power and address everyday problems. What makes this chapter wonderful is its focus on the works of Serigne Batch, a master calligrapher who produces texts as prayer papers, bed sheets or shirts, or as amte--mystical instruments. The works themselves are beautiful to behold, affording the reader a tangible sense of the layered meanings and aura they possess.

In chapter nine the authors return to an interest in space and visual piety with a look at a particular architectural compound built by an elderly holy man named Serigne Omar Sy in the small town of Djourbel, where French authorities kept Amadou Bamba after his return from exile in Gabon. To honor the Mouride saint, Sy has created out of straw and reed a devotional compound, in which a number of devoted talibes toil. The materials were chosen for their vulnerability, humility, and their direct connections to notions of writing. The reed refers to the pen of Bamba and to the pen with which Allah wrote the Koran. The compound is also designed with a series of geometric patterns which approximate text and the act of reading, and thus devotion. A fascinating analysis which draws comparisons with other Muslim architecture throughout west Africa, the case study perhaps suggests only the tip of the iceberg for studies of built space and devotion among the Mourides. While clearly this is a unique compound, the Robertses allude several times to the growth of the holy city of Touba, which houses the great mosque and tomb of Bamba and acts as the spiritual center of Mouridism. Yet nothing beyond the architecture of the grand mosque and tombs is discussed. Is there a vernacular architecture or way of arranging space, particularly in the holy city, which has been developed or erected by devotees?

This tour de force of Mouride scholarship concludes with a short chapter entitled "Pilgrimage and Exile, Transcendence and Prosperity," which concerns the inherent movement involved in the Mouride Way. As a story of exile, Bamba's life is an exemplar for his devotees, who ground themselves not only in his teachings but also in their belief in Touba as the home and focus of all their devotional practices. Pilgrims flood Touba once a year for the "Grand Magal," as others do at Mecca. As a "state of mind," Touba can be transported to any corner of the earth. This chapter gives some details of the remarkable spread, success, and influence of Mouride communities throughout the world. What it does not do, unfortunately, is give much visual evidence of their presence within diasporas. The obvious question is whether the Touba state of mind brings with it an adaptation and practice of visual piety in the same way that it does at home. Beyond drawing attention to the signage of various businesses named after the holy city, the authors do not give much evidence of a continuance of visual systems abroad. With large populations in New York and Los Angeles, it would have been worthwhile bringing these concerns into the fold.

A Saint in the City is an impressive work of visual anthropology, extremely thought-provoking and certainly visually stimulating. It builds upon earlier work on Islam in Africa by Rene Bravmann, Labelle Prussin, and others, but curiously, as it attempts to create a distinctive niche for itself within the literature on Senegal, it seems to all but ignore the broader socioeconomic, political, and historical conditions that this other, largely anthropological and political science research addresses. While Mourides are surely the most influential brotherhood in Senegal, they are not the largest (the Tijannis are), nor do they simply dominate the visual landscape; more importantly, they also control huge amounts of the economy, informal and formal. While the Robertses mention the other brotherhoods (Qadiriyya and Layen included), there is little sense of how the Mouride Way relates to them.