ISLAMIC and MUSLIM ENVIRONMENTALISM in the MURIDIYYA of SENEGAL by AYA COCKRAM a THESIS PRESENTED

WEAPONS OF SCIENCE AND PIETY: ISLAMIC AND MUSLIM ENVIRONMENTALISM IN THE MURIDIYYA OF SENEGAL

AYA COCKRAM

A THESIS PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS

UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

2018

To Gareth

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to extend my deepest gratitude to those in Senegal who allowed me into their organizations, villages, and lives —who were so open with me and who are bravely engaging with critical issues for their nation and the world. In particular, I want to thank Serigne Babacar

Mbow and Sokhna Aisha for welcoming me into their communities. I want to acknowledge

Berta for serving as my host and guide in Mbacké Kadior and for her friendship. I am also grateful to Fatou, Moussa and their four incredible children for hosting, feeding, assisting and sharing their slice of Ndem with me. This project greatly benefitted from the support of the

Baobab Center and the aid of my Wolof teacher Thomas Faye who not only increased my linguistic abilities but also helped with the transcription of some of my French interviews and offered much guidance during my stay in Senegal. I would also like to thank Youssou and

Adama Ka and their incredible family for taking care of me and making Dakar feel like home.

I, of course, want to express my great appreciation for the help and guidance of my thesis committee. My advisor and chair Bron Taylor has been indispensable in shaping and editing this project and in guiding and inspiring me in my scholarly work in general. Bron always knows when to push and when to encourage me. He has helped me find a confidence in myself that has in turn allowed me to produce work I can be proud of. Benjamin Soares has been a wonderful mentor in this project and in my education within Islamic and African studies. He taught me to be critical and clear but also inspired me with his enthusiasm for learning through his own work and teaching.

This project would not have been possible without the support of the Center for African

Studies and the FLAS Fellowship program for providing me the funding to learn Wolof — an experience and skill that was vital to my research and that allowed me two months in Senegal. I

would also like to express my gratitude to the Center for Islamic Studies for the travel grant that facilitated my fieldwork during and after my language program.

I also want to express my appreciation to the entire University of Florida Department of

Religion. The wonderful faculty has taught and guided me in diverse ways and my fellow graduate students gave me the solidarity and support that saw me through. In particular, I would like to acknowledge Amanda, Vickie, and Macodou who offered valuable feedback and input to this thesis.

Finally, I want to thank my family and friends for their love and support. My father

Michael Cockram was always ready to edit a chapter and give his feedback — to share in my excitement and diffuse my stress. My mother Tomoko Sekiguchi constantly supported me as my biggest cheerleader and is one of my greatest inspirations. Most of all I want to thank my husband Gareth Newnham who has always put my needs first allowing me to immerse myself in my writing and research. Who read and edited every word of this paper, offered support, a real sense of home, humor and so many other things without which I could not have completed this project.

TABLE OF CONTENTS page

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... 4

LIST OF FIGURES ...... 8

ABSTRACT ...... 9

CHAPTER

1 INTRODUCTION: L’ARBRE RENVERSE ...... 10

Islam, Environment, and Senegal ...... 11 Method ...... 17 Structure ...... 19

2 LITERATURE REVIEW: THE CONVERGENCE OF THREE STREAMS ...... 21

Religion and Nature ...... 24 Islam and Nature ...... 34 African Studies and Senegal ...... 45

3 THE RURAL: GREENING A “SPIRITUAL DESERT” ...... 57

The Eco-village Network of Senegal ...... 58 Ndem ...... 61 The Baye Fall: “Ligey ci Topp, Yalla la Bokk,” Work as Prayer ...... 63 The NGO and Cooperative Maam Samba ...... 68 The Maraîchage and Agroecology ...... 70 Mbacké Kadior ...... 76 The Project ...... 79 Serigne Babacar Mbow ...... 83 Analysis ...... 88

4 THE URBAN: DAKAR— CLEANING STREET AND SOUL ...... 99

Dakar: Some Context ...... 99 The Imams ...... 104 The Artists ...... 112 The Politicians ...... 124

5 WEAPONS OF SCIENCE AND PIETY ...... 133

Muridism...... 139 The Baye Fall Suborder ...... 144 Senegalese/African Culture ...... 147 Ecocentrism and Science ...... 150

Conclusion ...... 155

LIST OF REFERENCES ...... 161

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH ...... 172

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure page

2-1 Administrative map of Senegal from 1989 with major roads and cities. Image via Mapsland ...... 47

3-1 Images from the Collective Maam Samba ...... 69

3-2 Images from the Ndem maraîchage ...... 73

3-3 Images from the daara at Mbacké Kadior ...... 78

3-4 Images from the project at Mbacké Kadior ...... 81

3-5 Serigne bi planting cashews ...... 84

4-1 Images from G Hip Hop ...... 116

4-2 Photo from the “Prophecy” project which depicts Mbeubeuss, also known as “trash mountain” with jin figure...... 119

4-3 Artwork from Doulsy ...... 122

5-1 The iconic baobab of Ndem before (right) and after (left) the first rain of the season. Photo edited by Gareth Newnham...... 160

Abstract of Thesis Presented to the Graduate School of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts

WEAPONS OF SCIENCE AND PIETY: ISLAMIC AND MUSLIM ENVIRONMENTALISM IN THE MURIDIYYA OF SENEGAL By

Aya Cockram

December 2018

Chair: Bron Taylor Major: Religion

This study explores the role and response of religious groups and individuals to the increasingly evident threats of environmental degradation and climate change in Senegal. It examines both rural and urban contexts to provide a survey of Islamic and Muslim environmental action using in-depth ethnographic studies, interviews, various media sources and film. This work evaluates the extent to which Islam, and specifically the Senegalese Sufi Murid order, is an active and effective motivator in promoting environmental action. It examines ecological mindsets of participants including the dynamics between anthropocentrism and ecocentrism, the role of scientific understandings, and indigenous culture. Muridism was found to offer both a Muslim and African identity in which traditional beliefs and connections to the land worked with Islamic principles and authority to facilitate productive environmentalism despite gaps in areas such as population dynamics and protection of endangered or imperiled species. The urban case appears more fractured and ineffective when contrasted with the holistic eco-villages I explored. Further, a disproportionate participation of Baye Fall in environmental activities in this study suggests that this suborder offers a particularly promising medium for

Islamically-based or inspired ecological protection in Senegal.

CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION: L’ARBRE RENVERSE

Pressed against the door in the middle row of a sept-place — typically a rusted, old Peugeot or Renault seven-seat station wagon taxi- I stared out the window. The three- hour journey from Dakar, Senegal had begun with lively conversation and friendly encouragement. Soon I exhausted my meager Wolof repertoire and everyone settled into silence in the hot and crowded car. Dusty fields and small villages rolled past, giant baobab trees appeared at more frequent intervals and began to occupy my thoughts.

Baobabs are sometimes called “l’arbre renversé” which translates as the “upside-down tree”. It is often said in West Africa that God planted the tree upside-down with variations as to why: the tree complained too much, it was too vain or beautiful etc.

Regardless, it is an apt name for this wide-trunked, silvery, gnarled tree whose branches remain completely bare for the majority of the year resembling roots.

The baobab is a national symbol of Senegal, adorning the presidential seal. They are by far the tallest and most distinctive part of the landscape in the bush. Its leaves and fruit are an important part of the Senegalese diet but locals generally avoid cutting them down due to their cultural value and because their wood is brittle, not ideal for building or making furniture. Many villages have unique rituals or ceremonies tied to the trees, “In

Diock, a new bride and groom circle the baobab seven times after they are married. On

Fadiouth…funeral processions pause at the base of the village baobab, before carrying on to a Catholic shrine and the cemetery” (Searcey 2018). They clearly have deep significance and even served as tombs for griot, praise singers and storytellers, whose corpses were sometimes placed standing up in the hollowed out centers of their trunks in times past.

I wondered at the age of these trees, now increasingly threatened across Africa by climate change, urbanization, and population expansion (Patrut et al. 2018), and the time it must take for them to grow in a place so dry and sandy. I would later learn that some are more than 1,000 years old, and even the relatively younger ones seemed to have a prehistoric aura. As we approached a larger town the garbage strewn on the ground became a vast field of litter. The juxtaposition of these ancient giants with this mass of ugly, colorful waste, to my surprise, brought tears to my eyes. I pushed them back thinking that this burst of emotion would appear nonsensical to my traveling companions.

Islam, Environment, and Senegal

Ecologist, conservationist, and pillar of the American environmental movement

Aldo Leopold wrote in his work Round River, “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds” (Leopold 1991, 165). This sad and frustrated loneliness is a familiar feeling— particularly in moments like these during my stays in Senegal. I was born and raised in an earthy town, in a dark blue state in the

Pacific Northwest — in a reduce-reuse-recycle, bike-friendly, slow and local food bubble. When I first traveled to Senegal’s capital Dakar for my 9-month undergraduate study abroad program in 2011, I fell in love. I felt a sense of community that I had not imagined possible, relished in the slow and flexible sense of time, and was enchanted by their form of Islam — so different from everything the American media had told me. This wonder and excitement that I felt was curbed, however, by the environmental wounds I saw all around me: the garbage strewn on every street and the acrid smell of the plastic as it was burned in piles, the haze of pollution, the intense overcrowding of the city and the beige color palate of a land plagued by deforestation and desertification.

It was in this context that I first realized the Western-centric nature of my environmentalism. My ecological concern was often met with a wall of dismissal: the environment was a foreign preoccupation and this was Senegal, “mashallah”. In this

Muslim majority nation, I became intrigued by the possibility that Islam might provide a moral bridge to environmental concern that a secular, imported approach could not. It was only after this thought arose in me that I discovered an entire academic field that explored the interconnection between spirituality, religion, nature, and ecology. I wrote an undergraduate thesis that addressed, from a theoretical perspective, the potential for

Islamic teachings, scripture, and religious leaders to encourage and propagate environmental ideas, ethics, and action in Senegal.

Two years after graduation my return to academia was sparked by an article published by Al-Jazeera entitled “Senegal Imam calls for 'Green Jihad'”. It appeared that there were tangible examples of Senegalese awareness and engagement with environmental problems that were tied explicitly with religion. This was not the only example; I discovered instances of green Islam that had previously escaped my notice; many of which had emerged since my undergraduate research project and second visit to

Senegal in 2012. These cases seemed to speak to a larger trend and made it increasingly evident that this topic merited more, on-the-ground exploration.

In this project, I will investigate the merits and implications of framing environmental problems in religious language and teachings through organizations and individuals who portray environmental protection as a Muslim duty. My work focuses on the “home-grown” Sufi Senegalese order of the Muridiyya whose unique history and attributes will be examined within the context of the environmentalism and activism of

their practitioners. In addition, I will evaluate the efficacy of spiritually-based motivations and justifications for environmental protection, preservation, and sustainable living in Senegal.

Although such topics have been studied in other regions I found no such research in West Africa; indeed there are relatively few studies of religion and nature within the continent as a whole. Senegal is situated within the Sahelian belt— the semi-arid area which forms the southern border of the Sahara desert. This area is already experiencing global warming and ecological degradation. According to former Norwegian Prime

Minister and Chair of the World Commission on Environment and Development, Gro

Harlem Brundtland, “Climate change is an unprecedented threat. Most immediately, it is a threat to the world’s poorest and most vulnerable people: they are already living with the consequences of global warming” (United Nations Development Programme 2007,

59.). Finding new and innovative methods and motivations for ecological action are increasingly urgent as the environmental challenges we face are not only projected to elevate temperatures and ocean levels but also exacerbate human conflict and suffering.

There is a growing body of literature addressing the links between climate change and violence, much of which is focused on the African continent and adds additional urgency to the need for environmental solutions in the region. Political scientist and ecologist Thomas Homer-Dixon is a pioneer of the quantitative approach to the analysis of linkages between environmental degradation and conflict. He primarily understood violence to be coupled with resource scarcity. He contended, however, that climate and resource issues are connected to and embedded in complex economic, political, and cultural contexts that shape and affect the ways in which people react to the problems

they are presented with. Dixon averred that humans have the ability to adapt and overcome their climate problems depending on their ingenuity, which, like a resource, can be abundant or in short supply (Homer-Dixon 2001).

Migration and conflict expert Laura Freeman has stressed the severity of the environmental challenges facing the African continent which could be expected to see an increase in temperature of 2°C by the end of the 21st century (Freeman 2017). Although

Senegal has been lauded for its stability and democracy compared to other Sub-Saharan states, the consequences of the climate change paired with other factors have already caused populations to shift. Clearer impacts can also be seen in the wider region, for example the rebellions of the nomadic Tuareg in the northern region of Mali, Senegal’s neighbor to the East.

Tor Benjanminsen has argued that environmental stressors were not the primary cause of the first Tuareg rebellion during the early 1990s but that they seemed to be a significant factor and perhaps a necessary condition for the violence that occurred

(Benjanminsen, 2008). Freeman highlighted this case as an example of the interconnection of migration and climate change, which she argued led to violence in both the rebellions during the 1990s and then in 2012. These instances of violence, as asserted by Homer-Dixon, however, are complex and dependent on many factors besides climate change. The second Tuareg rebellion was intimately connected to the 2012 coup d'état and rise of al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb or AQIM in Mali’s northern regions.

Anthropologist Benjamin Soares argued that these events should be understood as situated in a larger climate of corruption, popular dissatisfaction, and complex geopolitical issues (Soares 2012). Regardless, this case illustrates that it is important to

consider the consequences of environmental change and degradation in the already dry and fragile ecosystem that exists in the Sahel.

As we will see in the following chapters the Senegalese landscape has already been significantly altered due to local practices as well as rising global temperatures.

Although there are relatively few studies of the long-term effects of climate change in this region, it is clear that more recent droughts have affected agriculture and the landscape in general. In the Sahelian region the mean rainfall was estimated to have decreased by 25–40% from 1931–1960 and from 1968–1997. According to one study,

“nearly every year since 1970 has been anomalously dry. Thus the intensity and multiyear persistence of drought conditions are unusual and perhaps unique features of

Sahel climate” (Nicholson 2000). These droughts have contributed to land degradation and decreased agricultural productivity. This led to the use of unsustainable “survival strategies” by farmers such as increased cutting of trees and overgrazing (Cochrane

2013a). Furthermore, waste disposal and pollution problems worsen ecological and human health, particularly in more densely populated areas (Myers 2016; Fredericks

2009, 2014).

In the face of such daunting problems innovative solutions are needed. Religion has been shown to be an influential force within the region. As research in other West

African nations show, faith-based non-governmental organizations can promote change.

According to Marie Nathalie LeBlanc, co-editor of the volume Faith and Charity, the popularity of such organizations has grown alongside the increasing, globalized, capitalist economic development of the region. While free market systems and growing privatization have opened up many new hardships for citizens in a number of African

societies— and throughout the global south or majority world — faith-based NGOs have increasingly stepped in to fill service voids and push back on the commodification of public life. As LeBlanc contended, these organizations serve as a “counterweight to the deleterious impact of the contemporary neoliberal political economy”(LeBlanc and

Gosselin 2016, 85). Such a claim places considerable importance and weight on religious organizations. The role of Islamic networks in offering support and as channels through which people can voice their concerns, however, is also advanced by the arguments of political scientist Leonardo Villalon within the Senegalese context (Villalon 1995).

Islam offers a powerful medium for the dissemination of information as well.

Gillian Rice has shown that the Friday prayer (juma) reaches more of Egypt’s population than any other form of mass media communication (Rice 2006, 388). The influence of religious preaching in Senegal has been demonstrated to be similarly effective as evidenced through the governmental AIDS prevention project. The collaboration of

Senegalese officials with religious leaders and organizations has helped to mitigate the spread of the disease in the country achieving the lowest rate of infection in sub-Saharan

Africa— a rate comparable to that of the United States (Gilbert 2008, 399)1. According to the CIA World Fact Book, the adult HIV prevalence rate in 2016 in Senegal was .4% whereas in the Gambia, a Christian nation situated within Senegal, it was 1.7%, and in

Guinea-Bissau directly to the south, it was 3.1% (Country Comparison: HIV/AIDS).

Such figures do not address the dissemination of environmental information but they do

1 For more on this topic in French see the essays by Selly Ba in both État, Sociétés et Islam au Sénégal and Un Air de Nouveau Temps? and Islam et Engagements au Sénégal. Ba focuses on the role of religious actors with particular attention to the role of the Islamic NGO Jamra in countering the aids crisis.

suggest the possibility that Islam and religious leaders have significant influence on the

Senegalese population and their behavior.

Method

My research is based primarily on ethnographic data collected in the West-Central region of Senegal from May 17th through July 12, 2018. My data was gathered through a combination of participant observation and 19 semi-formal interviews that were conducted in sessions 15 minutes to an hour. I also used a number of online media sources and a documentary film to compliment my work in the field. My interviews, as well as my interactions with interlocutors, took place in both French and English language depending on the preferences and ability of the individual. In some cases I employed limited amounts of a local tongue, Wolof, according to my ability.

I identified a number of key interlocutors before I went into the field. I encountered one imam, Youssoupha Sarr, through an online Al-Jazeera article by Nicolas

Haque. I also learned about the eco-villages included in this study from my correspondence with Haque. The work and activism of the artist Doulsy and the politician

Haidar el Ali I found through online articles as well. I was either introduced to the rest of my interviewees by friends or contacts within Senegal or met them during the fieldwork itself at environmentally themed events or eco-organizations. Due to the limited length and scope of this project, I could not incorporate all of my interviews and conversations into this paper. These interviews were left out of the project because they echoed sentiments already addressed by my main interlocutors or because they introduced themes and issues that were beyond its parameters. There were also sections of interviews that were not included in this study, again due to time and length restraints, such as the paths the brought my informants to their activism or environmental organizations.

I digitally recorded all of my semi-formal interviews which I then transcribed, and translated. I had assistance with several of the transcriptions from Wolof Professor

Thomas Faye but I completed all of the translations alone. During or immediately after periods of participant observation I took detailed, handwritten field notes that I later typed and drew from along with the interviews. Although the ethnographic approach offers a more holistic study of communities and projects and allowed for me to build trust and relationships with my interviewees, I was not able to use this approach with all of the groups and individuals that I encountered due to time constraints. In the Senegalese capital of Dakar, in particular, I relied heavily on interviews alone. This method also narrowed the scope of my study to my own interactions, observations, and conversations, which I have attempted to supplement with context from relevant studies, of which there was a limited number.

All of my interlocutors were from the Murid Sufi Islamic order with the exception of two. Although not the largest sect in Senegal, the Muridiyya has been argued to be the most visible tariqa, or Sufi order (Roberts 2003; Buggenhagen 2013). This group was of particular interest because of its reputation for flexibility and accommodation to changing situations, particularly during French occupation (Babou 2007; Robinson, 2000a), as well as its indigenous Senegalese origins. My study should be understood, therefore, as an examination of one aspect of a diverse Muslim majority nation, which includes a number of tariqa, non-Sufi Islamic sects, as well as, to a much lesser degree, non-Muslim faiths.

My research has been limited due to the restricted time in which I was able to conduct it and by various cultural and linguistic barriers. Specifically, I faced challenges due to my intermediate ability to speak the most common indigenous language, Wolof,

which I was learning during my two months in Senegal. This restricted my access to those who lacked fluency in French, and since those without such facility were disproportionately female, I was able to secure fewer interviews with women most significantly in my rural research cites. Being non-Muslim also restricted me to a degree, although much less than I anticipated. Because of my position as a religious outsider I was never invited to attend mosque, which limited certain aspects of my study.

My fieldwork also coincided with the month of Ramadan, during which time most

Muslims fast from dawn until dusk. This meant that there was a reduction in festive/social events and religious leaders were often more occupied. This slowed or made difficult some aspects of my research, in the urban setting of Dakar in particular, as some of my interlocutors were inaccessible for the first portion of my stay in Senegal.

Finally, the broad aims of this work addressing the efficacy of Islam as a motivator or justification for environmentalism and the greening of Islam in Senegal did not allow for me to address each subtopic, organization or individual in depth. For any one of these groups or field sites more extensive research and analysis is possible and needed to better understand the interaction between religion and nature in the region.

Structure

I have written up this research in two broad sections, “the rural” and “the urban”; within these areas I explore specific environmental ideologies and actions of individuals and groups. After a review of the relevant literature in Chapter 2, I turn to my fieldwork.

Chapter 3 deals with “the rural” and focuses on two interrelated eco-village communities in central Senegal. I chose these eco-villages due to their predominantly Murid population and because of the explicitly religious motivation for the ecological agriculture, organic artisanal products, and other green activities which sustained them.

The first village, Ndem, began its transition to an eco-village roughly 35 years ago under the direction of Serigne Babacar Mbow and his wife Sokhna Aisha Cissé. The second village, Macké Kadior, is the sheikh’s newest project and is only three years old. My examination of how these two villages were “greened” under the guidance of the same religious leader only 60 kilometers apart offered a fascinating contrast. These circumstances provided a unique view of the evolution and challenges of very similar

Senegalese eco-village projects at different stages of their development.

In Chapter 4 I explore environmental actors and organizations in an urban context. Dakar is Senegal’s capital, by far the largest city, has a wide array of environmental issues, and is the base for several projects and people of interest. It was therefore a natural choice in which to study the intersection of Islam and ecology in an urban setting. Interviewees were found through online newspaper articles and reports as well as through networking during my stay in country. These interlocutors were grouped into three categories: the imams, the artists, and the politicians.

In the Final Chapter I analyze these urban and rural settings, draw out larger trends, and highlight points of tension, gaps, and areas for further study. Within this research I have attempted to fill a lacuna by assessing the way religious beliefs and practices, particularly within the Murid Sufi order, are related to environmental perceptions and behaviors among Muslims, individuals, and groups. These activists and organizations bring innovative strategies and unconventional weapons to face the rapidly escalating threat of climate change and environmental degradation in Senegal.

CHAPTER 2 LITERATURE REVIEW: THE CONVERGENCE OF THREE STREAMS

As is often the case when studying topics such as cultural or environmental movements, this project crosses borders and draws from multiple disciplines. To address the relationship between Islam, ecological protection and explore the impact of this marriage in Northwestern Senegal, I draw from the fields of religion and nature, Islam and nature, as well as African studies to create a stable foundation upon which to build.

In order to navigate through and connect these three disciplines, I employ two general theories: the concept of “lived religion” and Talal Asad’s discursive tradition.

Lived religion is a term often associated with the work of Robert Orsi who popularized it through his studies in the United States. Orsi defined lived religion in The

Madonna of 115th Street as “the work of social agents/actors themselves as narrators and interpreters (and reinterpreters) of their own experiences and histories, recognizing that the stories we tell about others exist alongside the many and varied stories they tell of themselves.” (Orsi 2002, xx-xxi). This understanding pushes back on many traditional notions within religious studies such as Eliade’s binary between the “sacred” and the

“profane.” Instead it argues that religious experience often occurs in and throughout the not-so-set-apart aspects of daily lives – in churches, mosques etc. as well as at home or on the street. The spiritual and divine is viewed as entangled with the material, and is constantly being affected by its surroundings e.g. cultural, historical and circumstantial influences. Orsi asserted that religion is “polysemous” and made up of a “cultural bricolage” (Orsi 2001, 7).

This concept is particularly useful when examining a country like Senegal where the religious dimensions of life exist within a diverse and dynamic environment that is

prevalent in public spaces and is visually transposed over what might often be considered to be mundane aspects of life, such as graffiti, music, and everyday objects. Despite its secular form of governance, Islam permeates Senegalese society. Lived religion offers a framework with which to understand the realities of religious life in a more holistic way.

Additionally, an approach that acknowledges and values the blurred line between the sacred and profane, the ethereal and the material has obvious benefits when examining environmental protection and religion, which often weaves between and complicates such dichotomies.

The lived religion approach also encourages a productive relationship between interlocutors and researchers by discouraging value judgments. It operates through the understanding that, as Clifford Geertz stated, “neither does religious practice obliterate social contradiction or liberate humans absolutely from their place, in particular, social, political, and domestic arrangements. Rather religion enables them to do what they can in and through these realities” (Orsi 2001, 16). Through this understanding of religion’s entanglement with culture, the lived religion approach works to break down the division of “us” and “them” that was fundamental to many ethnographic studies in the past. Orsi has characterized this approach as a “postcolonial study of religion.” It therefore is an appropriate theory for me to employ in Senegal, a postcolonial state that carries the shadow and legacy of damaging French imperial practices and concepts. This theory also allows us to bypass the many debates regarding the definition of religion, Islam, or aspects of regional culture and focus instead on the connections and interaction between

Murid Islam and environmentalism as experienced by people in the regions studied.

While lived religion provides a general approach for this study, the work of anthropologist Talal Asad supplies a constructive lens for understanding Islam specifically. Asad’s theory was published in 1986 in response to a lack of an adequate method within an “anthropology of Islam” – and it has become widely known and applied. He complicated the study of Islam from an anthropological perspective by pushing back on more classical theories. His work questioned concepts of Islam as singular or “pure”, dual in terms of “great’ and “little” traditions

1, or even plural “Islams”. He instead asserted that it is best understood as a “discursive tradition”.

Asad employed a genealogical approach to assert that the Muslim religion is a result of a long line of cultural negotiations and historical exchanges – recognizing that even early Islamic Middle Eastern societies were dynamic and in conversation with surrounding and internal influences (Asad 2009, 15). To Asad, “tradition” can refer both to discourse and embodiment – showing that Islam is lived and constantly remade through the push and pull of the realities of the present and interacting with historical or

“orthodox” understandings. In Asad’s own words, “An Islamic discursive tradition is simply a tradition of Muslim discourse that addresses itself to conceptions of the Islamic past and future, with reference to a particular Islamic practice in the present” (Asad 2009,

20). This concept posits that any attempt to derive a universal representation of Islam as it is lived is inevitably problematic. Asad therefore believed that a refusal to accept a singular definition of the anthropology of Islam leads to the discursive approach. Asad’s

1 Robert Redfield’s concept which argued that the world religions (although this idea is heavily associated with Islam) could be divided into “Great” or textual/orthodox/ universal aspects, and “little” or heterodox and local practices.

method, like the lived religion theory, facilitates an exploration of local Senegalese forms of Islam by allowing this study to side-step the reductive traps of French colonial thinking or questions of authenticity. At the same time it promotes engagement within the locally specific aspects of belief and practice, viewing them in their larger historical and geographical conditions.

Religion and Nature

As a species, we humans have long struggled to orient ourselves in relation to our surroundings. One way we have attempted to do so is through identifying links between interactions with our environments and our belief systems. Many scholars including

Clarence Glacken, Donald Worster, Roderick Nash, and Roy Rappaport, have examined such entanglements in various time periods and cultures. It was Lynn White, Jr., however, whose short but pointed critique brought this discussion to the forefront of academic debate. In his 1967 essay “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis”, White contended that medieval Christianity, and by extension the other Abrahamic faiths, worked in tandem with scientific advancements of the day to create a dominant cultural anthropocentrism. In turn, this human-centered ethos, he said, fostered destructive environmental attitudes. To White, the belief that humanity was made in God’s image and that the rest of creation was designed for our benefit established a hierarchy which placed our species at the center of ethical considerations in most of the Western world.

Christianity simultaneously disempowered or destroyed “pagan” or “animist” peoples and their belief systems that had come before. He argued that Christians replaced ideas of nature-as-sacred and/or earthly spirits with a distant, solitary, sky god. According to White “by destroying pagan animism, Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects” (White 1967, 1205).

At the same time White, who was himself a devout Christian, did not dismiss religion but argued that “since the roots of our trouble are so largely religious, the remedy must also be essentially religious, whether we call it that or not” (White 1967, 1207).

This statement transformed his critique into a call for action in which spirituality and religious belief could be an effective tool for creating more ecological ways to navigate a world that is quickly moving toward an environmental crisis.

As environmental studies scholar Bron Taylor has argued, there have been generally three responses to White’s bold and thought-provoking theory from those within the Abrahamic traditions. Some were “indifferent” and believed White’s criticisms to be insignificant or unimportant in terms of their religious beliefs. A second group, which Taylor characterized as “apologetic,” asserted that the anti-environmental attitudes

White identified were a product of improper interpretation of the relevant biblical texts that could and should be remedied. Still other Christians took a “confessional” approach, accepting White’s critique but asserting that “internal reform” could bring about eco- friendly incarnations of their traditions (Taylor 2005, xv). The environmental interpretation or reform of religion has led to a proliferation of scholarship that explores the potential of a “greening” of religion which could increase pro-environmental behavior. In my research I encountered numerous practitioners that could be categorized as “apologetic,” viewing ecological protection or stewardship as an inherent part of

Islamic faith. This study in many ways contributes to the already extant body of literature on the greening of religion in its evaluation of the ways in which Islam might play a fruitful role in encouraging pro-environmental behavior in Senegal.

Although White’s work provides an important foundation for the religion and nature milieu, it is also a theory that has been problematized and challenged. In 2016,

Taylor along with colleagues Gretel Van Wieren and Bernard Zaleha, published “The

Greening of Religion Hypothesis: Part Two”, a comprehensive review of historical and social scientific research related to the supposed “greening” of the world’s religions. Not only did they consider the Abrahamic faiths but also Asian religions, traditional/tribal religions, and new spiritual movements, including what might be termed “nature spirituality”. The team classified and analyzed their findings to address the central question of whether “religions and religion-resembling social phenomena hinder or promote environmental understanding and pro-environmental practices…”(Taylor et al.

2016b, 339). Among the many findings, the authors concluded that although religions do appear to play an important role in environmental attitudes, there was little compelling evidence that the world’s predominant religions were developing strong environmental ethics and practices, let alone effectively promoting significant changes in the societies they inhabit. Further, many of their central themes and perceptions, they found, obscured scientific understandings or otherwise served as an obstacles to environmental concern and action.

In particular, this project highlighted several obstacles not found in White’s research such as the belief in the Abrahamic faiths that the good or bad events are linked to divine favor or disfavor. Such a worldview often removes or lessens responsibly for environmental degradation from humanity and blames things like natural disasters or global warming on abstract notions of sin. Even those religious individuals and groups who were part of the “greening” phenomenon were found by Taylor et al. to place a

lower priority on environmental issues than traditional religious and moral concerns, which resulted in little political action or change. The research also demonstrated that some religious leaders were deterred from pushing environmental issues for fear of alienating or even loosing practitioners (Taylor et al. 2016b). Factors such as these caused the researchers to conclude, “there is little evidence in support of claims that the world’s religions are coming, or might come, to the environmental rescue” (Taylor et al. 2016b, 348). This study, along with other critiques of White’s watershed essay, suggest that caution is in order when examining nature-related beliefs and practices, including that found among Murid Muslims in Senegal.

Although White was highly critical of the Abrahamic faiths, he highlighted Asian and indigenous religions as less anthropocentric and therefore more environmentally friendly than their monotheistic counterparts. This statement in itself has been contested by many scholars such as Yi Fu Tuan and Roger Griffin and has provoked additional lines of inquiry. Social anthropologist Arne Kallend argued in “Religious Environmental

Paradigm” that the romanticization of Asian and indigenous traditions, stemming in part from the Lynn White Hypothesis, overemphasized their beliefs while often failing to note that in practice many of these cultures have been environmentally destructive (Kallend

2005). Anthropologist Shepard Krech III has contended that the idea of Native

Americans — and by extension other indigenous peoples — as the “first ecologist” was an idea constructed primarily by white Westerners during the 1960s. Some indigenous people themselves then accepted this notion over time (Krech 2005). This debate remains relevant and serves as an important backdrop in my explorations of the Senegalese context when discussing the supposedly “traditional” aspects of local culture, which have

been historically emphasized by colonial scholars in terms of their influence on Islamic practice.

Although there have been compelling arguments which challenge the notions that

Indigenous cultures are inherently eco-friendly, the concept of Traditional Ecological

Knowledge (TEK) has been recognized as productive, not only in the religion and nature sphere but also for the possibility of its contributions to scientific fields. TEK has been defined by applied ecologist Fikret Berkes as, “a cumulative body of knowledge, practice, and belief, evolving by adaptive processes and handed down through generations by cultural transmission, about the relationship of living beings (including humans) with one another and with their environment” (Berkes 2012, 8). TEK represents the collective knowledge of usually, but not necessarily, tribal peoples or those living in less technologically developed societies; such knowledge is incorporated into worldviews which often cause this knowledge to be enmeshed with spiritual beliefs and everyday practices. In other words, these often highly detailed and wide-ranging intellectual resources are embedded within their own cultural contexts. Since the 1980s, the scientific world has become increasingly interested in TEK and its potential to expand scientific knowledge. Anthropologist Tim Ingold has advanced the importance of this field by convincing many that TEK often connects the social and environmental spheres of life, creating what he terms as “sentient ecology” (Ingold 2011, 10). Arguably, the synthesis of belief and ecological knowledge within these systems has the potential to produce a powerful ethic that can connect people with the land, encouraging them to live sustainably and in an integrated manner with their environment. As Berkes put it,

Perhaps the most fundamental lesson of traditional ecological knowledge is that worldviews and beliefs do matter. Almost all traditional ecological

knowledge systems may be characterized as a complex of knowledge, practice, and belief. Almost universally, one encounters an ethic of nondominant, respectful human – nature relationship, a sacred ecology, as part of the belief component of traditional ecological knowledge” (Berkes 2012, 266).

Berkes claims that these knowledge systems promote a relationship in which humans and their environments are not starkly separated. This encourages less dominating attitudes and a more conscientious relationship between the two. These worldviews, according to

Berkes, even locate the sacred within the natural world. This conception of TEK was also supported by Taylor et al.’s comprehensive review and is useful when examining Islam in

Senegal because, to varying degrees, traditional knowledge and ethical systems have endured and been integrated into modern Senegalese culture.

While TEK has and still provides some religionists with valuable ecological understandings and pro-environmental attitudes and practices, Taylor et al.’s study also concluded that relatively new forms of “nature-engaged social phenomena” are emerging that express and promote environmental understandings and concerns. Taylor has dubbed these promising practices “Dark Green Religion”. Many of these groups and individuals have also cited affinity with Norwegian philosopher Arne Naess’ 1972 concept of “deep ecology,” which described nature as intrinsically valuable, and which contrasts with the shallow ecology of mainstream environmental movements and was often linked to spiritual beliefs. These connections between nature, environmentalism and the spiritual reside at the heart of the American environmental movement through some of its key founding fathers.

Natural philosopher and activist Henry David Thoreau, founder of the Sierra Club

John Muir, and ecologist and co-founder of the Wilderness Society Aldo Leopold, can be seen as early examples of environmentalists who found spiritual meaning and value in the

natural world. John Muir frequently used religious vocabulary to describe the natural places he loved and protected calling valleys “cathedrals” and characterizing wilderness as a place to “play in and pray in” (Muir 1997, 814). Leopold expressed an idea that in many ways mirrored what Lynn White would argue decades later, that “Conservation is getting nowhere because it is incompatible with our Abrahamic concept of land”

(Leopold 1968, viii). He also formulated the “land ethic” which would become a cornerstone for biocentric ethics in America and beyond. Central themes explored by these thinkers and others have become critical within Western concepts of ecocentrism and deep ecology. Although my study focuses on Islam in Senegal, these trends of “dark green” spirituality have been shown to have a productive and promising role in fostering environmental movements and activities, in diverse contexts around the world (Taylor

1995; 2010; Taylor et al. 2016b). These trends serve as an interesting comparative reference point when examining the role of Muridism in environmental preservation and restoration.

Although these examples are helpful in highlighting and drawing out the importance of scientific, and ecocentric concepts of nature, acknowledging the western lenses through which they were developed is also necessary. Indian historian

Ramachandra Guha has argued that Western scholars tend to impose their vision of ethics on the rest of the world. He criticized concepts such as “wilderness” which he argued were born from a distinctively western-centric perspective. Guha asserted that other cultures might have different conceptions of human relationships with nature that should not be discounted. He averred, “My plea rather is to put wilderness protection (and its radical edge, deep ecology) in its place, to recognize it as a distinctively North Atlantic

brand of environmentalism, whose export and expansion must be done with caution, care, and above all, with humility” (Guha 1998, 277). This highlights the importance of place and context in ecological protection and suggests a mindfulness that I, as a westerner should try to cultivate.

Another relevant facet of the religion and nature field stems from the “back to the land” movement that emerged in America in the mid-19th century and which has experienced periodic surges in popularity particularly in the late 60s and early 70s and again in the mid-90s. Professor of environmental studies Rebecca Kneale Gould has written extensively on the movement and named Thoreau as the premier authentic “back- to-the-lander.” She argued that his narrative of retreat to the wild proliferated the idea that nature was a place for spiritual growth and the act of (at least partially) rejecting industrialization, urbanization and commercialism evoked the ideal of a simpler time and lifestyle (Gould 2005a, 148). In Gould’s work, At Home in Nature, she focused on the example of Helen and Scott Nearing to explore the spiritual aspects of living close to the land, growing one's own food etc. Gould also highlighted how these “homesteaders” use nature as the “ultimate reference point” for contemplating morality and discerning what is sacred (Gould 1997, 4). This concept of “back to the land” is also seen in the sustainable agriculture and eco-village phenomenon, which have spread across the globe.

Anna Peterson’s work Seeds of the Kingdom compared two seemingly disparate groups: Amish farming communities and repopulated Catholic refugee villages in postwar Chalatenango, El Salvador. Peterson linked these communities through their participation in sustainable living practices and their approach and engagement with questions regarding the role of utopias. She examined the ways in which these groups

sought to reconcile their religious worldviews with values of environmentalism and social justice to reimagine and rebuild their communities.

Assistant professor of Religious, Environmental, and Sustainability Studies Todd

LeVasseure has also made significant contributions to this field through his work in

American religious agrarian communities. In Agrarianism and the Return of Place he explored the intersection between environmental farming and religious belief in North

America. LeVassure employed what he termed the “lived-network” approach which provided a framework to understand how these communities were sacralizing nature while simultaneously engaging in sustainable agriculture through a number of local, national and international networks to form “moral geographies” (LeVasseure 2018, 9).

LeVasseure has also written on the Global Ecovillage Network (GEN), which I will discuss in the context of Senegal, distilling themes from his interactions at a workshop at their headquarters in Findhorn, Scotland. He argued that these communities and eco- villagers were able to “shift their utopian imageries into a lived reality; they are able to bridge the gap of putting holistic values related to community, sustainability, and justice into lived practice” and in so doing offered a, hopefully, increasingly viable alternative to modern capitalistic lifestyles (LeVasseure 2015, 266).

Whitney Sanford’s Living Sustainably explored the ways that twenty-one contemporary eco-villages or “intentional communities” enacted ideas such as sustainability, non-violence, democracy and voluntary simplicity through their collective life choices (Sanford 2017, 1-2). Although the subjects of Sanford’s study were American and tended to be more ambiguously “spiritual,” there are several noteworthy examples of

eco-villages, which are bound together by an Islamic identity— particularly among Sufi

Muslims.

Eleanor Daly Finnegan’s doctoral dissertation Hijra and Homegrown Agriculture:

Farming Among American Muslims, along with the corresponding article “Cultivating

Faith”, provides the only comparative study of American Sufi farming communities to date. Her examination of three spiritual farming communities led her to conclude that these farms allowed their practitioners space in which to act out their religious and environmental values – that many were attempting to live particular relationships with the natural world and with God simultaneously (Finnegan 2011, 11).

In Indonesia, pesantren or Islamic boarding schools are often surrounded by farmland and many have their own agricultural projects. Increasingly there has been a trend toward “eco-pesantren” in which the boarding schools teach about environmental problems using Islamic environmental ethics through the principles laid out in the

Ministry of Environment’s informational booklet and through government-sponsored textbooks. These ethics are then executed in different ways depending on the school but often through organic agriculture or permaculture practices. Aoki Takenobu is an anthropologist who has written about Islamic NGOs and their role in aiding and fostering eco-pesantren. He explained that the pesantren model was a particularly helpful medium for environmental protection because they not only provided education about the issues and their relevance to Islam but also offered tools and “practical know-how” to move beyond discourse (Aoki 2015, 71).

Both of these examples illustrate how working with the land can serve as an intersection where religious belief and practice connects and blurs into mundane

activities and this-worldly concerns. The Sufi farms explored by these authors were born from a variety of preoccupations, contexts, and agendas, however, they become linked through charismatic leadership, the desire for autonomy, and the need for a space where they can live out Muslim identities connected to the land. Back to the land movements, intentional, and Sufi farm communities all offer examples of how a connection with nature (which is often spiritual) can be lived out in meaningful ways. This literature also offers background and examples for comparison to enrich the examination of Senegalese eco-villages that will be explored in the next chapter.

Islam and Nature

Although Lynn White’s thesis is often viewed as the spark that triggered interest in the greening of religion and green spiritualities, there were individuals stretching far back into history who engaged with issues of religion, environmental behavior and even anthropocentrism such a David Hume and Ludwig Feuerbach along with many others

(Taylor 2016a, 278). There was also an Islamic scholar engaged with this topic just before “The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis” was published. The field of Islam and nature has been growing since Iranian born Shi’a philosopher and scholar Seyyed

Hossein Nasr broached the topic in 1966 during a lecture series at the University of

Chicago. His discussion of the ecologically destructive nature of Western modernity was published as Man and Nature: the Spiritual Crisis of Modern Man in 1967 (Foltz 2007, xxxviii). Nasr has continued to write prolifically on the topic for over four decades and is considered to be a founder of the field. Despite its early origins, the topic of Islam and nature did not truly begin to gain traction until the 1980’s but has since become a wide- ranging and diverse field of study.

All of my interlocutors were from Muslim backgrounds and so the vast majority of them employed theologically-based Islamic environmental ethics to justify or inspire their thoughts or actions. Ibrahim Ozdemir, a Turkish scholar of Middle Eastern

Philosophy, has published some of the most clear ecological exegeses of the Qur’an.

Ozdemir approaches the scriptures from an ecocentric perspective, which he considers to be more inclusive when understanding the Islamic text. Ozdemir is careful to differentiate between worshiping nature and regarding it as evidence or a sign of the power and benevolence of the creator. He proposed, “The Qur’an’s insistence on the order, beauty, and harmony of nature implies that there is no demarcation between what the Qur’an reveals and what nature manifests” (Ozdemir 2007, 9). This “book of nature” argument views the creation itself is evidence of God in a form that runs parallel to the holy book – both are ayat or signs from God.2

Many of the environmental ethical principles that Ozdemir identifies are similar to the work of Sri Lankan born, UK citizen, Fazlun Khalid. Khalid has made a significant mark on the field. The Independent Magazine named Khalid one of the top 100 environmentalists in the UK in 2008 and he was selected as one of the “500 Most

Influential Muslims in the World” by the Royal Islamic Strategic Studies Centre of

Jordan (Welle, 2013).

In his writing, Khalid repeatedly emphasized four concepts as the core of his environmental ethic:

In our eagerness to ‘progress’ and ‘develop’ we have lost sight of the finite and delicate nature of planet Earth and of humanity’s place in it. Islamic teaching offers an opportunity to understand the natural order and to define human responsibility. It could be said that the limits of the human condition

2 For more on the “book of nature” argument see Gould 2005b, Book of Nature.

are set within four principals— Tawheed, Fitra, Mizan and Khalifa” (Khalid, Guardian of the Natural Order).

Tawheed or tawhid can roughly be translated to “oneness,” typically referring to the monotheistic nature of Islamic faith, however, it has been interpreted by Khalid and others as descriptive of the unity of creation. From this perspective God has formed the world as a single fabric of which humanity is only one thread. This holistic approach to the central notion of tawhid asserts the interconnectedness of all elements of the natural world, in other words, this central tenet can be read as an ecological principle (Khalid

2002).

Fitra refers to our primordial human nature and it is believed that humanity has a natural predisposition toward goodness as well as worship and submission to Allah.

Khalid argued that part of our nature is embedded in the greater creation, the environment in which we live. Within the natural order, we are a part of ecological systems, not separate or dominant. Qur’an 30:29 states that “there is no changing God’s creation” and

Khalid used this to argue that our attempts to remove ourselves from our environment, to alter and mold the earth to fit our personal desires and scientific aspirations is causing humans to self-destruct because it goes against fitra or our own inborn nature (Fazlun

2007, 315).

The final two concepts of mizan and khalifa are interlinked within Khalid’s environmental ethic. Khalifa refers to the responsibility bestowed onto humanity through a trusteeship, or amanah, designating us God’s stewards on earth. In Qur’an 33:72 it states, “We offered the Trust to the heavens, the earth, and the mountains but they refused to take it on and shrank from it. But man took it on” (Khalid 2002, 711). In this passage, we see a very different story than that told in Genesis, not only did humans (and nature)

not “fall” in Islamic myth, we actually volunteered for and were not given guardianship over the natural order. With this burden came the gift of free will and intellect. Professor

Nawal Ammar has argued that humanity is not superior to the rest of creation – we have special, but not better qualities due to our role as khalifa (Ammar 2007,198). This responsibility principle is comparable to the idea of environmental stewardship in

Judaism and Christianity; however, such interpretations are not commonplace, are unknown or are often dismissed in Islamic scholarship (Foltz 2011). According to Foltz,

Muslims often take a “defensive” approach to environmental issues which shifts or deflects blame for environmental problems (Foltz 2005a, viii ). A prominent concern in

Islamic environmental ethics asserts that most people, including the majority of Muslims, have forgotten that human privileges come with heavy burdens, one of which is maintaining mizan.

Mizan can be translated to mean balance and Khalid asserted that the natural order of the world functions because it has been fashioned in a state of equilibrium and stability that relies on the submission of the creation to God which is maintained by humans.

Khalid contended that this power is also a source of danger, “paradoxically, we are the only sentient beings in creation who can through the very gift of reasoning choose not to prostrate and destroy everything around us by our presumed cleverness” (Foltz 2005b,

882). Although we have a duty to maintain balance, we also have the ability to, and arguably already have upset this balance. Nasr also warned against humanity’s destructive potential in his work The Need for a Sacred Science,

There is no more dangerous a creature on earth than a khalifah Allah who no longer considers himself to be ‘abd Allah or a follower of God’s command and who therefore does not see himself as owing allegiance to a

being beyond himself. Such a creature is able to possess a power of destruction which is truly satanic (Nasr 1993, 134).

From the perspective expressed by Khalid, Nasr and others the importance of the role of khalifa should not be taken lightly and the consequences of disrupting the balance in which creation was divinely placed are grave. These two principles were perhaps the most cited when speaking with Muslim practitioners in Senegal although they did not use the Arabic terms for them.

While Nasr has contributed significantly to the ferment over Islam and nature it is perhaps his views on science that are the most unique and controversial in this survey of foundational thinkers. Although clearly working within Islamic studies, Nasr focused his early academic work in the scientific sphere. He received a BA from MIT in physics, a

Geology and Geophysics MA, and History of Science and Learning Ph.D. at Harvard

University. After his BA Nasr reportedly became disillusioned with what he took to be the positivism of pure scientific study. Throughout his career he moved toward non- western interpretations of science and Islamic studies. Nevertheless, his interest in, and knowledge of, the hard sciences continue to play prominently into his work (About

Seyyed Hossein Nasr, 2018). Like many operating in the field of Islam and nature, including the lion share of my interviewees, he believed that most of humanity, including

Muslims, have forgone or forgotten many essential aspects of their traditions. This neglect has resulted in the urgent and potentially catastrophic threat of runaway climate change that we face today. Nasr has asserted that science is an important source of and solution for the “spiritual crisis” we are now confronted with. From his perspective, the

Western-centric scientific view has come to dominate the global consciousness allowing

Americans and Europeans to dictate what is studied and how we study them. Nasr viewed

control over the scientific and technological narrative as a form of power that has, in recent history, been wielded by the west and resulted in a degraded planet (Nasr 2007,

88).

His remedy for this issue is the recreation of an Islamic science based on an

Islamic worldview. Once science has been re-sacralized, Nasr believed that the Islamic worldview would be able to reconnect with traditional beliefs and technologies that would allow Muslims to tread more lightly on the earth (Nasr 1993). This Islamic approach was not proposed as a new global paradigm but instead Nasr asserted that scientific exploration could be pluralistic and connected with belief and culture. In some ways, these ideas seem to reflect aspects of Traditional Ecological knowledge in their blurring of the boundaries between ways of understanding the world. It is important to note, however, that Nasr rejects evolution and asserts that it is an ideology and not a proven scientific fact. While the arguments of Nasr are foundational and worthy of consideration it is also important to contemplate the implications of his rejection of one of the foundational pillars of contemporary environmental science and how this might impact his, and his readers, approach to environmental ethics and action.

This theoretical work done by Muslim scholars is critical for understanding any conversation regarding the connections between Islam and nature. My work in Senegal, however, deals with cases from an ethnographic study and examines these themes in terms of how they are lived. Although there is a good deal of literature on green initiatives within Muslim communities, two practical examples are particularly instructive for this study. The first is an international non-profit organization founded by

Khalid in 1994, the Foundation for Ecology and Environmental Sciences or IFEES. This

organization draws on Islamic environmental ethics, resources such as the shar’ia and scriptures to instigate and aid conservation projects in Muslim communities and to serve as a resource for religious environmentalism. According to their website,

Climate change and the environmental threat, in general, pose some of the greatest challenges known to the human race...We see our task as motivating the Muslim world to engage positively in redressing these issues and call on Muslims to live up to their responsibilities as guardians (Khalifa – Qur’an 6:167) of Allah’s creation and work towards leaving a liveable earth for future generations (Our Strategy 2015).

This organization’s work illustrates the potential efficacy of Islamic environmentalism through a number of successful or significant initiatives. The organization aided in a

Marine Conservation Project in Misali, off the coast of Pemba, Zanzibar that confronted the issue of environmentally hazardous and dangerous “fish bombing”. The group aided in distribution of educational materials and the designation of the area as hima, “a private pasture” or "protected area,” which provides certain protections under Islamic authority.

It distinguishes the land as communal property which should neither be built on nor used for agriculture but instead protected for the benefit of all (Dien 2000, 165). The related concept of harim, meaning “forbidden” or “inviolable zones” also limits or prohibits the use of “resources” and “utilities” and was historically used to create green belts around settlements (Llewellyn 2207, 210-211). In the harim zone in the holy city of Mecca — a commonly noted example among my interviewees — not even a leaf may be taken from a tree. Although harim is not an explicitly environmental concept it has been interpreted and used to promote and justify preservation by Muslim environmentalists.

Another notable initiative undertaken by the IFEES was the pronouncement of a fatwa, a legal ruling issued by religious authorities, meant to counter the deforestation that was taking place in Indonesia in 2007. The IFEES considered this endeavor a success

even though forest burns only declined and did not stop (Yazid 2008, 28) and deforestation is still a major issue in the nation. Along with notable international initiatives, the IFEES has also started organic gardens and created a wide variety of educational materials and workshops. This organization offers an example of how Islamic environmental ethics and eco-interpretations of Islamic law have been translated into action in a number of real-world situations with varying degrees of success.

Khalid’s IFEES works in the non-governmental sphere, however, it is also helpful to examine examples of Islamically-based governmental policy. The Islamic Republic of

Iran is a fairly unique and notable case which has been examined extensively by Richard

Foltz, a historian of the Middle East and Founding Director of Concordia University’s

Centre for Iranian Studies. He is the only Western-born scholar examined in this survey and offers a more etic perspective. His notable work provides a critical view of the greening of Islam. He finds the common belief that ‘if Islam is practiced correctly it will promote environmentalism,’ to be particularly problematic. Foltz contended that this apologist view, which advocates a return to an “imagined past”, is not only an impossibility but “an unfulfillable promise” that is “misleading, if not dangerous”(Foltz

2007b, 249). Foltz emphasized the importance of differentiating between Islamic environmentalism and Muslim environmentalism. The former being based in textual sources and the latter relating to local forms of ecological thought which include, but are not limited to, derivations of the Islamic religion (Foltz 2011, 208).

To Foltz, the Iranian case is “the strongest evidence of an applied Islamic environmental ethic in the world today” (Foltz 2007b, 259). Because of their post- revolution Islamist government, Iran’s political policies are bound up with religious

teachings and the level of biodiversity loss and pollution in the country has spurred them into action. The importance and value of environmental protections are enshrined in the

Iranian 1979 constitution, which boldly stated, “protection of the natural environment, in which the present and future generations must lead an ever-improving community life, is a public obligation. Therefore all activities, economic or otherwise, which may cause irreversible damage to the environment are forbidden” (Foltz 2007b, 261). This places significant value on the natural, however, such statements are also general and largely unenforceable. Foltz, through an examination that included: policy, environmental

NGOs, women’s involvement, activity within the ulama and Iranian eating trends, draws out the environmental aspects of the lived and politicized religion. He notes the successes of such organizations and groups but also concedes that the overall public response has remained low in the country. The value of the Iranian case in Foltz’ mind is that it is

“home grown” and it is his belief that this self-made, Islamic based environmentalism will stand a better chance in the long run than ideologies, systems or policies that might be brought in from the West (Foltz 2007b, 271).

It is also important to acknowledge that much has changed in the Iranian state in the past decade and many of Foltz’s findings may no longer hold. Bron Taylor, in an article written on the UN Seminar on Environment, Culture, and Religion in Tehran in

2016, asserted that local environmentalists remain “highly skeptical about the professed environmental priorities of the Iranian government” (Taylor 2016, 496). Although there were over 600 environmental NGOs in Iran by 2005, the rise of a more conservative government led to a significant decline in such organizations. Karim-Aly Kassam, Zahra

Golshani and Marianne E. Krasny highlighted that many “NGOs” defy their own

definition because of their dependence on the government, financially and substantively, and therefore typically support the status quo instead of pushing against it (Kassam,

Golshani, and Krasny. 2018, 68). Despite government crackdowns, these authors argued that civil society and the public sphere have maintained a level of engagement with environmental issues due to the growing urban, educated middle class, as well as through the use of new technologies such as the internet. Their disillusionment with these broader governmental systems has led to groups such as Nature Cleaners, a grassroots Islamic organization that draws on religious values of cleanliness and stewardship. This group is supported through small family networks and community building. It seems evident that the ways in which these activists now operate is constrained and changed from the context described by Foltz but is also somewhat sustained in these new and different forms.

On a Global level, it is also worth noting the creation of the “Islamic Climate

Change Declaration” which was made public only months after Pope Francis published

“Laudato si” his climate change encyclical. In August 2015, faith leaders, senior international development policymakers, academics, and other experts gathered in

Istanbul Turkey to compose the declaration in preparation for the climate talks in Paris.

The drafting committee was made up of six different members from different nations on three different continents and was, reportedly widely circulated among major Muslim scholars and environmentalist seeking their input. Signatories include imams, representatives from higher learning institutes, as well as prominent organizations such as the Climate Action Network International, the Green Mosque Initiative, the Indonesian

Council of Ulema, and Saudi Wildlife Authority (Schaefer 2016).

This document touched on issues such as anthropogenic climate change, the detrimental effects of fossil fuels, the vulnerability of the poor and marginalized, and even population dynamics — an often sensitive issue despite historical and scriptural evidence that birth control is Islamically sanctioned (see: Musallam 1983; Roudi-Fahimi

2004). They provided both “affirmations” of things like “rights of all living beings,” the use of himas, and lifestyles that reduce waste. It also included a call to action: “join us in collaboration, cooperation, and friendly competition in this endeavor, and we welcome the significant contributions taken by other faiths, as we can all be winners in this race”

(Islamic Declaration on Climate Change 2015). As there is no central Islamic authority this declaration does not represent the Muslim position on climate change but it does have the backing of noted Muslim leaders and represents a level of consciousness and recognition in Muslim international communities.

Within the sphere of Islam and nature, it is clear that there are eco-interpretations of the religion, mostly coming from an apologist perspective (and notably little from a confessional point of view), which offer arguments that have gained some traction in the academic world as well as, to a limited degree, in public and political sphere. Theoretical concepts were echoed by some of the individuals and groups studied in my fieldwork and so this review offers an important touchstone to understand the logic behind certain environmental actions being undertaken in Senegal. The examples of the IFEES and

Foltz’s examination of the Iranian case offer both tangible examples and helpful comparatives when looking at how eco-interpretations of Islamic religion are lived out or what Muslim environmentalism looks like on the ground. They also offer an insight into the imperfect reality of grounding environmental action in religious belief. As Foltz

demonstrated, environmental goals were often met with resistance or apathy from the public in the Republic of Iran. Later examples also illustrated the skepticism of local environmentalists regarding the sincerity of the Iranian government’s environmental policy and their turn to more grassroots solutions. Similarly, the IFEES has some impressive initiatives but none of them eliminated ecologically damaging behavior. A brief survey of their website shows a decline in international projects. From this broad framework of religion and nature and Islam and nature, we now turn to the more specific

Senegalese context.

African Studies and Senegal

The Republic of Senegal is situated on the West African coast with most of the nation falling within the semi-arid Sahelian belt. According to the CIA World Fact Book, the nation’s population was over 14.6 million in 2017 and has a rapid growth rate of “4.5 children per woman” — the country is also disproportionately young with over 60% of

Senegalese under the age of 25 (The World Factbook: Senegal 2018). Senegal has been heavily shaped by its colonial past. French conquest began in 1659 with the establishment of the northern city of St. Louis, their occupational power became stabilized in the late

1800s, the nation served as the capital of their colonial empire in West Africa, and ended with independence in 1960 (Ross 2015, 1008). Before the official occupation of the

French, Senegal was host to a number of European influences and interferences, primarily English and Dutch, due to its strategic position on the continent and to the transatlantic slave trade. Because of this history, the official language of Senegal is

French – the main lingua franca, however, is Wolof. Senegal is a diverse nation with seven main ethnic and language groups, the Wolof compose the majority with roughly

41.6% of the nation’s population, followed by Haalpulaar, Serer, and the country also has a growing international population (The World Factbook: Senegal 2018).

Archeological evidence shows that the region now known as Senegal has been inhabited since the Paleolithic era and has seen a great many different empires and shifting populations, as well as ecological change. The word “Sahel” is taken from the

Arabic sahil or coast because of its position along the fringes of the harsh and dry Sahara

(Robinson 2004, 32). It is therefore no surprise that this semi-arid region, of which

Senegal is a part, is characterized by variable and unpredictable rainfall, and a short rainy season. According to a study by Nyong et al., drought scenarios are on the rise in and “It is anticipated that climate variability and change in the Sahel will have overwhelming impacts on agriculture and land use, ecosystem and biodiversity, human settlements, diseases and health, and hydrology and water resources” (Nyong et al. 2007, 790). These contentions seem to be materializing in Senegal. Severe droughts experienced in the

1970s and 1980s combined with other factors to trigger famine and contributed to a widespread rural exodus. Indeed, the Sahel is considered to be a hotspot for climate warming and “long-term studies indicate an overall decrease in natural vegetation and an increase in agricultural areas” and in particular they noted a decrease in tree density across the region (Brandt et al. 2014, 53).

During my research in northwestern Senegal, I was repeatedly told of the changes in vegetal cover and deforestation that were well within the living memory. One informant relayed stories from his grandmother describing how only about 80 years ago the now parched and sandy region housing the town of Guédé Chantier was “all green, covered with forest, the rivers were full of crocodiles, full of manatees, all sorts of fish

and … she [the informant’s grandmother] would go from one village to the other without seeing the sun” because of the tree cover (Pame, 05/30/18). Stories such as this provide a stark contrast to the current situation which has seen major desertification and the disappearance of both big predators and iconic mammals such as the giraffe and elephant, as well as less visible species.

Figure 2-1. Administrative map of Senegal from 1989 with major roads and cities. Image via Mapsland

Much of Senegal is arid and has low biomass. Deforestation has been linked to the rising prevalence of agriculture and urbanization, the dependence of the growing population on fuel wood, as well as climate change. Although there is not much historical data on this process it has been found by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the

United Nations that that annual forest cover losses average around 0.5% — a little higher than average for Western and Central African nations (Bensch and Peters 2013, 679).

Currently, the only surviving lion populations are protected in Niokolo-Guinea lion area where there were an estimated 50 individuals in 2012 (African Lion & Environmental

Research Trust) and African elephant populations rest at under 100 (IUCN/SSC African

Elephant Specialist Group, 2017). These are but a few examples of the widespread decline of biodiversity within the state.

This ecological change has not gone unnoticed within the nation or the government, however, there appears to be a gap between policy and implementation.

Senegalese environmental policy, like many other aspects of its infrastructure, has been modeled on the French system and is therefore not necessarily tailored to realities on the ground. The environmental code of Senegal was re-written in 2001 to better support the increasingly severe environmental situation and to keep up with the world standards of environmental policy (Code De L'Environnement 2001)3. The code is full of grand and in some cases idealistic statements such as “Everyone has the right to a healthy environment under the conditions defined by the international texts” (Code De L'Environnement 2001,

3) and “State guarantees all citizens the right to environmental education” (Code De

L'Environnement 2001, 6). Spending any amount of time in the country shows that, similar to the Iranian case, these “rights” remain theoretical.

In a more recent and specific example, the Senegalese government banned plastic bags effective January 1 2016 in reaction to the substantial amounts of plastic litter and waste. Carrying a plastic bag is illegal and throwing one on the ground is punishable by a six-month jail sentence and a 300,000-dollar fine, but again there are virtually no signs of this new legislation on the street level (Haque 2015). Shop owners and customers assert that this ban was not accompanied by an alternative to replace the bags and so it cannot

3 The Senegalese Environmental Code is published in French which I have translated for the purposes of this paper.

realistically be followed. The gap between ecological degradation and governmental solutions, which was often voiced during my research in country, illustrates a need for new or renewed approaches to environmental protection in Senegal.

Senegal is a secular laic republic, however, religion certainly influences both policy and who is elected into the government. The Senegalese state has a strong Muslim majority with roughly 96.1% of the population identifying as Muslim (The World

Factbook: Senegal 2018) the vast majority of which are Sunni of the Maliki school of jurisprudence. According to the Pew Research Center 92% of the population claim affiliation with a Sufi order — proportionally higher than any other country in the world

(Liu 2012). In order to situate current religious realities in Senegal, it is important to understand the history of the Islamization of West Africa.

Islam arrived very early in the region, beginning in the 10th century, spreading at various rates and degrees up until the present (Loimeier 2013). The Sahara had long served as a barrier to travel and so it was Berber tribes that first ferried the faith across the desert. The Berber had varied responses to the new religion introduced by the Arabs and converted, primarily to Sunni Islam, as individuals, in groups, as towns or even as entire ethnic groups. Some of these converted Berber became the first practitioners of

Islam in sub-Saharan Africa as merchants and caravan guides who possessed the coveted knowledge of the Saharan trade routes. Due to their involvement in commerce, these early Muslims were generally of a wealthier class, contributed to the economic well- being of their communities, and rulers generally respected them and sought their skills and council (Robinson 2004, 38-39). The Lamtuna were the first Berber group to bring

Islam to the region now known as Senegal during the 11th century. They provide an

interesting example of this slow and variable process because the Lamtuna themselves were only partially Islamized when they began gaining converts. According to linguist

Fiona McLaughlin, remnants of this history can be seen linguistically through local

Berber terms such as “Tabaski”, which originally referred to the sacrificing of a spring lamb and has been appropriated to refer to the Islamic holiday known elsewhere as Eid al-Adha (McLaughlin, personal communication, 9/14/18).

According to David Robinson, a prominent historian specializing in African studies, the Islamization of Africa took place in three discernable stages. “Minority

Islam” or “Quarantine Islam”, described above, took place when Muslims were primarily merchants existing in small pockets. “Court Islam” occurred when the royal and elite classes became interested and started to convert, and finally the religion spread into the rural and mass populations through a variety of means including “jihad of the sword”

(Robinson 2004). It was not until the late 14th century, however, that Islam began being more forcefully spread. Askia Muhammad Turé of the Songhai Empire used the writings of religious scholar Al-Maghīlī to justify violence and enslavement of those who were deemed as deviating from Islam (Loimeier 2013, 83). In Senegal, one of the earliest examples of jihad came from Nasir al-Din in the 1670’s who was a Berber scholar and warrior from current day Mauritania. He conscripted followers from the Wolof and Pular speaking religions and formed a short-lived and “embryonic Islamic state” which fought against those that did not adhere to Islamic principles (Robinson 2000b, 133). The jihad of Al-Hajj Umar Tall had a more significant effect and in 1852 he became militaristic in his efforts to spread Islam. Robinson explained that “Umar had designed a movement that differed significantly from its predecessors: it was a movement not to reform our

overthrow his native land but to spread the faith by the destruction of ‘pagan’ regimes”

(Robinson 2000b, 142). These jihads certainly contributed to the spread of the faith in sub-Saharan Africa and specifically in Senegal but should be viewed within the larger history of the Islamization of Africa, in which they are but one aspect.

It is important to note from this brief history not only that Islam arrived relatively early in West Africa but that the process of Islamization was typically gradual and often spread organically through human interaction and exchange. The religion began in small pockets and for much of the time coexisted alongside other practices. It is also noteworthy that Islam was introduced to the Sahel by African Muslims and that the conversion process took place locally and was influenced not only by belief but also economics, education, and literacy, as well as the fluctuation of empires.

When the French arrived in West Africa and established Senegal as their regional capital they, unlike their British counterparts, did not attempt widespread conversion of local peoples. Instead they concentrated their effort on installing French educational systems, studying the Sufi orders and reducing them to “controllable units” through policy (Loimeier 2013, 283). Key to this strategy was the concept of “Islam noir” or

“black Islam” which argued West African, and particularly Islam in Senegal, to be highly influenced by “traditional” practices and therefore more peaceful but also more docile, less threatening and easier to control. The French, therefore, attempted to discourage contact and influence from other parts of the Muslim world while viewing Islam in

Senegal with its Sufi orders as “the pole of orientation for Muslims in other regions of sub-Saharan Africa” (Seesemann and Soares 2009, 93-94). This praise of Islam in

Senegal was quite backhanded. It suggested weakness that could be manipulated to

benefit the colonial project. It also is implied that the religion was impure and deviated from truer (yet more violent) form because of the syncretic blending of Islam with

“traditional African religions.”

While associating “traditional African religions” with something distinctively

“African” is tempting, the reality is that only about 1% of the Senegalese population religiously identify as practicing local faiths (Ross 2015, 1008); many of these people reside in the southern Casamance region. As anthropologist Benedickt Pontzen has argued, the umbrella term of “Africa(n)” is often based less on empirical evidence and has instead essentially been used to “other” the continent from the perspective of the

West. This has created a discourse that has significant parallels with Edward Said’s concept of Orientalism (Pontzen 2018, 5). The term African will therefore only be used in the context of how it was understood and employed by my informants. As Robinson has argued through his concept of the “Africanization of Islam”, there are certainly ways in which local culture and practice have impacted current manifestations of Muslim practice in places like Senegal. However, Robinson stressed that he did not use this term pejoratively. He recognized that this phenomenon has occurred not only in Muslim

Africa but also in every society and religion (Robinson 2004, 42). It is also notable that some locally specific practices — such as the Grand Magal pilgrimage in Senegal, which is believed by some to be an alternative for the hajj to Mecca — are partially a reaction to the spatial or temporal restrictions of West Africans, as they have had to adapt the religion to their realities (Robinson 2004, 44). Talal Asad’s therory is also helpful in addressing and speaking about these difficult issues when examining Islam in Senegal

and can be used to argue that it was a long process of discourse that has led to the current plurality of Sufi orders in the nation, some of which are uniquely Senegalese.

Islam in Senegal has been a focal point for scholars of the region and an important theme in such work often centers on the relationship between religion and the state.

Leonardo Villalon’s influential title Islamic Society and State Power in Senegal:

Disciples and Citizens in Fatick explored the political influence and the impact of the

Sufi orders. Villalon is part of a larger discourse which argues that the Senegalese tariqa contribute significantly to the relative stability of what is considered by many to be one of the most democratic and non-oppressive states in sub-Saharan Africa. This work, however, adds layers of complexity and nuance to this topic by examining the interrelations between three types of actors: the political elite, the maraboutic organizations, and regular citizens.

More recent work addressing the dynamics between the state, the Senegalese people and religion includes two anthologies with some overlapping themes and contributors. Abdourahmane Seck, Mayke Kaag, Cheikh Guéye, and Abdou Salam Fall’s volume État, Sociétés et Islam au Sénégal: Un Air de Nouveau Temps? revisited the topic of the interaction between religion and state in the post 9/11 world and focused on different uses of Islam from a number of different actors and perspectives. Islam et

Engagements au Sénégal edited by Kaag included the scholarship of Senegalese and

Dutch researchers commenting on related topics regarding Islam’s relation to politics and economy in Senegal. Of particular interest to my research is Mamadou Bodian and El

Hadj Malick Sy Camara’s piece which examined the role of religious leaders in public

discourse on good governance including an exploration of the social mobilization of the

Imams of Guédiawaye — an organization to which one of my interlocutors belongs.

Senegal is mostly Muslim, those Muslims are mostly Sufi and the two largest tariqa or orders within the nation are the Tijaniyya and the Muridiyya respectively.

Although the Tijani surpass the Murides in numbers, it is widely accepted that the latter is more tightly organized, influential and visible in public and academic eye (Gellar 1995,

88). My choice to highlight the Muridiyya is not only due to their popularity and influence but also because they are a uniquely Senegalese tariqa and one that appears, from my experience in the field, to be prominent in places where the religion and environmental concerns collide.

The Muridiyya was founded by Cheikh Amadu Bamba Mbacke (1853-1927), often referred to simply as Bamba, a spiritual leader from a family of Muslim clerics from the province of Kadior. The Senegalese saint was drawn toward Sufism but eventually began developing his own unique practices and ideas. Perhaps the most central was the notion of tarbiyya or education of the soul, which sought to spiritually transform the person through a holistic and total education. As a result, the disciple transcended the boundaries of “student” and became a “murid” meaning “aspirant” (Babou 2007, 65).

Another aspect of Bamba’s unique tariqa sought to open practice to the poor and vulnerable by remaking hierarchical structures by offering dual paths to salvation. One focused on scholarly learning and the other on more physical labor for one’s sheikh.

Bamba’s ‘Sufi work ethic’ provided a path of devotion for the less educated or illiterate, as well as the possibility of upward mobility to those who did not previously have such access (Babou 2007, 113). At the same time this work ethic, which was a critical aspect

of the eco-villages that this study will explore, led to the order’s monopoly on the peanut trade, which gained the group economic power and gave them the resources to build religious infrastructure such as their Grand Mosque in the holy city of Touba. At the same time, their centrality in the production of Senegal’s cash crop along with their rising popularity gave them political power that the Murid leadership learned to use to their advantage (Robinson 2004, 192).

The religious order not only introduced a new form of Sufism but also became associated with anti-colonial resistance. To some Senegalese, Bamba is seen as a champion of the people and key to the expulsion of the French. According to historian of

Islam Cheikh Anta Babou, “Bamba did not want political power but instead to build the community that supported his religious worldview” (Babou 2007, 164). Despite these simple aspirations, Bamba’s ever-growing popularity and the suspicious nature of the colonial government led to much surveillance of the young Murid community and attempts to curb their power and influence. Due to this persecution, the community moved several times and Bamba began establishing villages. The holy city of Touba was founded in 1887 and the colonial French government began actively expressing concern about his influence and teachings two years later. Bamba was arrested and exiled to

Gabon from 1895–1902 and would be arrested two more times. During the second, he was exiled to Mauritania from 1903–1907, and during the third, he was placed under house arrest until his death in 1927 (Robinson 2004). Despite his constant repression by the French, Bamba was still able to grow his following, establish the Murids as a distinctive tariqa, which served to undermine the power of the colonial forces.

Regardless of their intentions to suppress the Sufi order, Bamba’s arrests and rejection of

temporal power only made him appear more virtuous and the French inadvertently made a living martyr out of him. It was not until the end of Bamba’s life that he and the French arrived at a cooperative understanding which has been characterized as one of

“accommodation” (Babou 2007, 73). This context has imbued the Murid order with a distinctively Senegalese and revolutionary spirit. This Murid heritage is well known, not only for those within the tariqa but also as an important aspect of Senegalese history generally, and in particular as part of the decolonization narrative. Images of Bamba, his devoted follower Ibrahima Fall, and the minaret of his grand mosque are among the most common religious symbols in the visual space of Senegal’s cities.

These three streams of religion and nature, Islam and nature and African studies converge to form a base upon which I build my research. Although I have divided these aspects of my study into separate sections in this chapter, they are intimately intertwined in the dynamic and discursive reality of lived environmentalism and Islam in Senegal today.

CHAPTER 3 THE RURAL: GREENING A “SPIRITUAL DESERT”

Live simply so that others may live. —Fallou Mbow1

The neem tree, Fatou explained, was traditionally planted next to huts and in villages because it was fast growing, evergreen, and drought resistant. This made it an ideal shade tree to protect against and reduce the heat in village homes in the semi-arid region of central Senegal (Fatou, personal communication, May 26 2018) 2. Now the neem serves as a graveyard map, marking where homes had been abandoned, and eventually disappeared back into the sand. One of the main goals of eco-villages such as

Ndem where Fatou, her husband Moussa and their four children live, is to bring “dignity” back to the village. They strive to create a new narrative where success and progress does not inevitably mean moving to the city but instead makes the village a place where people can thrive — key to this is ecological protection.

Laura Cochrane, an anthropologist whose work concentrates on the intersection between religion, visual arts, and the environment, described the rural exodus from small villages to the cities as a complex of human and environmental factors. She asserted that mismanagement of resources and agriculture in both the colonial and postcolonial eras led to the widespread abandonment of farming and rural life (Cochrane 2016, 47). In the

19th century the French increasingly pushed Senegalese agriculture away from traditional,

1 The epigraph to this chapter is translated from the original French: “Vivre simplement pour que les autres vivent”. This is very similar to a famous quote of unclear origins that is attributed both to Mahatma Gandhi and Mother Theresa that Fallou may have been referencing. This and all subsequent quotations of Fallou are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

2 This and all subsequent quotations of Fatou are taken from interviews that were conducted in English, with no translation necessary.

subsistence methods and toward monocultural production. Specifically, the region began to focus on the cultivation of the main colonial cash crop: peanuts. Interestingly, the

Murid organization dominated peanut cultivation, which contributed greatly to their economic and social power (Robinson 2004, 192). During the 20th century a series of droughts caused further changes to be made in farming practices. Decreases in production led to the increased cultivation of buffer and fallow fields along with the use of chemicals and fertilizers imported from the West. Although the merit of these practices was questioned in the 1980s, the resources were no longer available to remedy these issues.

Global forces such as the World Bank, International Monetary Fund, and donor states pressured many poorer or so called “underdeveloped” nations, including Senegal, to decrease government control and subsidies of agriculture through structural adjustment programs (Cochrane 2016, 48). The droughts decreased soil fertility due to unsustainable farming practices, and disruptions of the fragile Sahelian ecosystems made village life increasingly untenable. This series of events sparked a rural exodus that left many villages diminished or abandoned and cities overcrowded.

The Eco-village Network of Senegal

Despite this trend toward urbanization, in the last decade Senegal has developed a significant network of eco-villages that push back on the dominant narrative. Teacher- researcher, community leader and former mayor of the northern village of Guédé

Chantier, Dr. Ousmane Pame is a devoted Murid and notable champion of environmental protection and social development in the rural context. He serves as the president of the

Global Eco-village Network Africa, also known as GEN Africa, as well as REDES :

Réseau pour l'Emergence et le Développement des Ecovillages au Sahel.3 The Senegalese network includes eight villages and collaborates with projects in other sahelian countries— in particular their Mauritanian neighbors. Eco-villages, as Cochrane has also argued in several of her articles, provide a holistic and long-term approach to rural environmental protection and restoration of village life. Although they may look very different, Pame asserted that all eco-villages have four dimensions: “culture, spirituality, ecology, and economy”(Pame, 05/30/18)4. According to Pame, by approaching these aspects simultaneously the transition to eco-village facilitates a total transformation, as explained in this text from their website:

REDES is committed to play an active part in bringing relevant solutions to the complex environmental and socio-economic challenges that communities in the region are facing in their daily lives. REDES envisions a green, prosperous and peaceful Sahel where all human communities enjoy natural abundance and cultural diversity (“Goals & Objectives” 2018).

Their list of goals touches upon Pame’s four themes including not only restoration of

Senegal’s ecological systems but also social and gender justice, the preservation of religious and heritage sites, as well as traditional knowledge.

Despite the secular status of both GEN Africa and REDES, these organizations acknowledged the importance of culture and religion in ecological protection. Pame cited many examples in which his projects educated and collaborated with local religious leaders. He explained that almost every meeting or event was opened with a prayer and they often sought the approval and literal blessing of local imams and marabouts for new

3 Translates in English to Network for Ecovillage Emergence and Development in the Sahel

4 This and all subsequent quotations with Dr. Pame are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

projects. These organizations recognized the influence and power of local religious leaders and viewed them as a potentially positive force in the environmental struggle.

Regarding this topic Pame stated, “If they join efforts to green this country then we will get there very soon. It’s not a question of politicians doing everything… so this is a short cut for total conservation of our ecosystems and also combating poverty…” (Pame,

5/30/18). To Pame, religious leaders in Senegal possessed an influence that politicians do not, and he shared a view that I encountered repeatedly, that the government in his nation was often inefficient or lacked the ability to effect change—particularly in rural areas. As

Leonardo Villalon argued in Islamic Society and State Power in Senegal, the authority of the state and of Sufi religious leaders competed but also co-existed creating a balance of constant negotiation, resulting in the double role of the Senegalese as what he called

“citizen-disciples”. However, according to Villalon, “religious institutions in Senegal have been able to fill that role prescribed for civil society in current theories about

African politics” (Villalon 1995, 259). It was through religious structures that local issues were often championed and therefore, it is unsurprising that Senegalese religious leaders would have a significant role to play in the region’s environmental crisis and its social repercussions.

Islam also played a personal role in the eco-village network. Pame asserted that many people involved in the organization were driven by religion, along with secular convictions. He asserted that since they worked in a Muslim majority region that their projects necessarily adapted to the social and spiritual realities of the place. Personally he had written several articles drawing connections between Islam and environmental protection. In his article “Ecology, a Fundamental Dimension of Islam” Pame stated that,

The spiritual desert that consumes humanity constitutes without any doubt a factor which aggravates the climatic disorder and the natural calamities which result. Technological science and politics, without religious faith, will not enable humanity to free itself from the current ecological crisis” (Pame, 4-5).

Statements such as this echo the work of foundational Islam and nature theorists such as

Seyyid Hossein Nasr, who related the ecological crisis to a spiritual crisis. It also demonstrates the importance of faith in the critical work Pame conducts fostering the growth of eco-villages of Senegal.

While the notable work of GEN Africa and REDES collaborated with and were often inspired by local religious beliefs and practices, the devoted spiritual communities of Serigne Babacar Mbow have overtly married the eco-village model with Islamic faith.

The village of Ndem, currently part of the Pame’s network, was turned into an eco- community and spiritual center when their spiritual guide Serigne Babacar Mbow (or

Serigne bi as his disciples call him) and his wife Sokhna Aisha Cissé took up residence there roughly 35 years ago. Serigne bi is not only a Murid marabout or religious leader but belongs to a particular suborder known as the Baye Fall, which has played significantly in the current manifestation of the community.

Ndem

The village of Ndem is located in the central “peanut basin” of Senegal about 120 kilometers from Dakar and 20 minutes to Bambay, the closest town. At first glance it appears to be a typically Senegalese village community with a white and blue mosque, a mixture of small concrete houses and huts made from millet stalks. Upon closer inspection, however, one notices an unusual lack of garbage and an abundance of trashcans made of painted and stacked car tires or cans tacked to posts around the sandy

streets. Serigne bi’s daara5 is located in the North Eastern corner of the village. The large fenced-off space is made up of family homes and guest huts. The sandy ground has been maintained and swept so that one can easily walk without shoes if the sun is not too hot.

Large trees shade much of the village throughout and the open spaces are generously landscaped with succulent and flowering plants, painted white rocks, and shade structures. In particular, bushes of bougainvillea add a bright color to the landscape and water spigots serve as meeting spots for bright, painted looking birds. As people go about their day warm greetings were always exchanged, giving the daara a calm and welcoming quality.

Ndem existed long before Serigne bi arrived with Sokhna Aisha 35 years ago; it was the village of his family which had a long tradition producing respected religious leaders. His great great great grandfather, Maam Meissa Thioro Gueye founded the village and was the first Muslim in the region. Maam Meissa’s son, Maam Samba, was another respected marabout or spiritual leader who traveled to the Murid holy city Touba where he became close to Cheikh Amadou Bamba. When he returned he brought a new

Baye Fall identity with him and reportedly gained an ability to heal the sick along with acquiring a general closeness to animals and was said to communicate with birds.

Multiple people who recounted this history to me compared Maam Samba to the

Christian saint St. Francis of Assisi. Maam Samba had a similar affinity for animals and specifically birds as St. Francis, who was officially declared patron saint of ecology in

1979 by Pope John Paul II (Taylor et al. 2016a, 272). This was also the same saint who

5 Daara is a Senegalese term used originally for traditional Qur’anic schools. Currently it can refer to a local Sufi association and for the disciples of Sergine B the term refers to the physical space in which his devotees live and carry out his wishes and commands.

Lynn White Jr. argued could be a force within the Christian faith to inspire an overturn of the tradition’s anthropocentrism. Maam Samba was Serigne bi’s grandfather and would become the namesake of Ndem’s brand of artisanal and ecofriendly products.

At a young age, Serigne bi’s family moved to Dakar and his education took him to France. For personal and spiritual reasons, however, he and his wife were drawn back to Ndem (Sokhna Aisha, 06/03/18). Upon their arrival the couple quickly became involved in communal development projects that prioritized both humanitarian and environmental issues. As Fatou explained, Ndem evolved organically, “we have just done our own thing and people would come and tell us ‘you are doing fair trade’ and so we would say ‘oh! okay, we didn’t know’, and then they would tell us you are an eco-village, and then, you are doing ecotourism and so on…” (Fatou, personal communication, May

27 2018). Ndem is now integrated into the GEN Africa network and works with

Ousmane Pame and other sahelian eco-villages. For the disciples of Serigne bi, however, their daara’s evolution into a model of sustainable living was a natural outgrowth of their

Baye Fall belief, and, more specifically, the guidance of their sheikh.

The Baye Fall: “Ligey ci Topp, Yalla la Bokk,” Work as Prayer

The Baye Fall often standout in Senegal due to their distinctive outward expressions of faith. Many wear ndjan or dreadlocks and ndjaxass, patchwork style clothing. Also common are thick leather belts, long or large caps, and often copious gri- gri. 6 Although not all Baye Fall present themselves in this manor, this style and

6 Gri-gri are talismans common in the West African Sufism that are seen to have various mystical abilities such a protecting the wearer. They often take the form of small leather or cloth pouches, which are worn around the arms, ankles, waist or neck. The gri-gri normally contains paper with Qur’anic or other non- Islamic verses written on them. The Baye Fall often wear a thick leather woven gri-gri necklace particular to their suborder.

particularly the ndjan and ndjaxass are meant to emulate the founder of their order

Cheikh Ibrahima Fall and symbolize extreme devotion to one’s sheikh, detachment from material things, and humility (Morris 2014, 45).

Cheikh Ibrahima Fall (1858-1930) was one of Bamba’s early followers and a member of the Kayor Royal family (Mbacké 2005, 64). From the start, Ibra Fall was a controversial character who devoted himself completely to Bamba, forgoing some practices including the Islamic pillars of salat, the five times a day prayer, and sawm, fasting during Ramadan. He instead practiced as a majzub, an Arabic term which roughly translates to ‘attracted to God’ (Majzub 2012). It is a less common form of Sufi devotion in West Africa in which a practitioner is consumed with a love for Allah, they may become ascetic and structural aspects of the religion are often bypassed. Although the

Baye Fall do not take part in salat they strive to attain a constant state of prayerfulness, worshiping God with their every action and thought. It is also common to hear the dhikr and praise songs in a Baye Fall daara throughout the day.

Cheikh Anta Babou contended that the majzub practice resulted in “blurring the boundaries between the lawful and the unlawful and putting spiritual exercises and disciplining the body over formal worship” (Babou 2007, 65). Because of this, Ibra Fall focused his devotion on Bamba and labored for him, establishing for the Baye Fall work for one’s Sheikh as a spiritual path, a rich form of devotion, and prayer. Sokhna Aisha,

Serigne bi’s wife of French origin, described the roles of Bamba and Fall as complementary, and went so far as to say that they were two aspects of the same person.

Bamba devoted himself to religious scholarship and to “the loneliness in God” and

Cheikh Ibrahima Fall embodied the Qur’anic teachings and the “light of Cheikh

Ahmadou Bamba” (Sokhna Aisha, 06/03/18)7. This assertion agrees with that of anthropologist Charlotte Pezeril who argued that the Baye Fall are a distinctive order that has developed alongside and in a symbiotic relationship with Muridism (Pezeril 2008). It is for this reason that all the great projects of the Murid community were entrusted to

Cheikh Ibrahima Fall, and the Baye Fall after him. It is also why he is referred to as

“Lamp Fall”— the guiding light which illuminated the sainthood of Bamba.

The Baye Fall are often misunderstood and relatively little has been written on them. Even the Senegalese are often ignorant of the intricacies of the suborder; as the title of Pezeril’s work Islam, Mysticisme et Marginalité suggests, they are marginalized because of these misconceptions. A professor and Yaay Fall (female Baye Fall) living

Dakar, whom I will refer to as Diarra, explained that there were three main negative stereotypes of the Baye Fall which promoted this devaluation and fringe status. They were viewed as bad or illegitimate Muslims, as lazy, and as frequent users of illicit substances, namely marijuana and alcohol (Diarra, 06/03/18)8.

The first assertion stems from the aforementioned majzub practice that causes most Baye Fall to forgo salat and sawm, as well as the extreme devotion to one’s sheikh which has been cast as idolization.9 Many refer to these characteristics as “deviations” from Muridism, implying that there is a pure or correct way to practice within this tariqa,

7 This and all subsequent quotations with Sokhna Aisha are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

8 This and all subsequent quotations with Diarra are taken from an interview that was conducted in English, with no translation necessary.

9 Within the Islamic faith there is a strong emphasis placed on the singular nature of God- to worship or even pray toward other beings or people is considered shirk or idolatry. Sufism in general has been attacked by Salafi’s who argue that practices such as visiting graves, and celebrate the birthday of the prophet Muhammad etc. are un-Islamic (Haykel 2014, 41). Within Senegal the level of devotion of the Baye Fall toward their sheikh is criticized along the same lines.

and playing into an orientalist attitude toward Islamic practice that has been used in the past to discredit African forms of Islam. Khadim Mbacké and John O. Hunwick go so far as to assert that the Baye Fall are adversaries of the greater order, discrediting and confusing the Muridiyya through their “deviations” (Mbacké and Hunwick 2005, 66).

Accusations of laziness were connected with the tendency of some Baye Fall to collect either monetary or food donations, often in large bowls made from a calabash.

This is usually done to raise money for one’s sheikh or to replace formal work so they can become a fully dedicated disciple, as well as serving to teach them humility. Instead, these actions are often interpreted as an inability or lack of desire to work and support themselves.

Finally, Diarra explained that imputations of substance abuse stemmed from generalizations of the actions of individuals or smaller groups. She conceded that it was possible that since the Baye Fall were not orthodox, some might feel freer to experiment with or consume drugs and alcohol but contended that there was a bias against the group which was not applied to “deviant” members of another religious orders (Diarra,

06/03/18). It also seems likely that the more recent popularity of Baye Fall style among youth culture may have influenced this conception. The appropriation of various aesthetic features of the sect has led to the use of the term Baye-faux, meaning “false Baye Fall” to draw a distinction between supposedly authentic and inauthentic forms of practice

(Morris 2014, 49). Upon interacting with Baye Fall communities it seemed evident that these three conceptions were merely stereotypes. The Baye Fall are a complex and diverse suborder and to gain a more balanced understanding of the group it is critical to

understand their history and acknowledge that the specifics of forms and practices depend on the individual and community.

Contrary to accusations of laziness, work is actually an integral aspect of the Baye

Fall. The importance that the Murides place on labor has been repeatedly compared to the protestant work ethic. As Babou has asserted, however, there is less of an emphasis on the accumulation of personal wealth. The spiritual benefits of khidma, or service, are seen as more important than material gain. Bamba was widely quoted as having said, “work is a means of worshiping God” (Babou 2007, 90). Within the Baye Fall suborder the spiritual aspects of labor actually replaced other Islamic devotional practices, as expressed in this chant: “Duma julli, duma woor, buma dee ma dem aijjana.

I don’t pray, I don’t fast, when I die I’ll go to heaven. Ligey ci topp, Yalla la bokk.

Work is among the ways to adore God” (Morris 2014, 46).

Although they do not generally fast it is common for the Baye Fall to care for those who do observe Ramadan. Diarra, for example prepared the ndoggu or the fast- breaking meal and dinner for others. In the daara of Serigne bi it is clear that work is prayer. Sokhna Aisha characterized labor as a form of meditation, a practice which she and her husband stressed as critical to a spiritual life. Community member Moussa explained that during the economic crisis there was constantly work in Ndem, however, there were always those who would work primarily for the community and their spiritual beliefs. To him and many within the daara the sense of human connection and toiling for a greater good was critical because working for personal benefit detracted from ones prayer. Fatou described Ndem’s aspirations to provide sustainability and dignity for the

people of rural Senegal as something that “manifests itself through our work, through our hands” (Fatou, 05/26/18).

The NGO and Cooperative Maam Samba

The Ndem community’s projects and initiatives comprise an impressive and seemingly unending list: alternative coal made from compressed peanut shells, school environmental education programs, literacy programs, artisanal training programs, a variety of sustainable farmer training programs, and food processing workshops to name a few. Many of these projects fall under the umbrella of the ONG des Villageois de

Ndem, or The NGO of the Villagers of Ndem. The most basic mission of the NGO is to combat the exodus from rural to urban areas; this effort began by establishing artisanal workshops and a trade center that is now known as the Cooperative Maam Samba

(CMS).

The artisanal “village” consisted of a fenced-off corner just behind the mosque and next to a towering baobab whose image served as the town’s emblem and adorned all the Maam Samba products. The atelier, or workshop area, was made up of at least six small blue and white huts, each housing a different craft such as metal work, weaving, sewing and woodwork. There was also an office, a small warehouse and a boutique. The

CMS is fair trade certified10 and employs people from Ndem along with 15 neighboring villages and has boutiques all over Senegal, as well as in Europe and the United States.

Maam Samba products were made, not with a mindset of creating capital but instead fostering a healthy community, creating as many jobs as possible and working in an

10 This entails regular meetings with a fair trade representative to make sure that certain working conditions etc are maintained as well as allowing the artisans themselves to set prices for their goods.

environmentally conscious way. The coordinator of the artisanal village, Moussa, explained, for example that extra steps were sometimes created during production which increased the price of their goods but allowed for the employment of more people. As he liked to tell me, “Americans say that time is money, we say time is people” (Moussa personal communication, May 27 2018)11.

A B

Figure 3-1. Images from the Collective Maam Samba A) Weaver creating fabric from organic cotton, B) Color square of the bogolon natural dyes used for selected Maam Samba products

In addition to the ethical wages and conditions of Maam Samba products, they are also organic and environmentally friendly. The cotton used to weave their fabric is either grown in Ndem or bought from an organic retailer. Processed goods such as the jams, hot sauce, and juice syrups are all locally sourced and grown without chemicals. Ndem also has their own range of traditional, natural dyes or bogolon, which they use on their organic fabrics to create a lovely range of earthy tones. The CMS also prioritizes

11 Although Moussa switched into English to make this one statement all other conversations took place in French, which I translated into English.

“récupération" or the repurposing of materials. Everything made in the metal shop is created from scrap and there is great effort to find creative uses for bits of fabric that are left behind by the tailors.

Over the course of 30 years the NGO has grown to address a range of issues including projects related to hydraulics, health, education, and the environment.

Mamoune, a young man of 29 who was born and raised in the daara of Serigne bi now serves as the director of the NGO. When we spoke, he stressed the change he has witnessed during his lifetime. He has watched the village repopulate and grow, asserting that the rural exodus was being reversed by giving people, particularly youth, a reason to stay. Through innovation and international grants won by the NGO they have provided jobs, clean running water, and solar power, which runs the artisanal village among many other things. When I asked Mamoune about the biggest challenges and environmental problems he, the village, and Senegal face, he answered both times that it was the garbage. In particular, he stated that the technically illegal plastic bags imposed the most pressing threat and made his “heart ache”. He has therefore prioritized finding solutions to this problem that could serve as a model for the area and for Senegal (Mamoune,

05/27/18)12.

The Maraîchage and Agroecology

Ndem also strives to innovate and serve as a model for other villages through its agricultural endeavors. They have fields outside of the village as well as a Maraîchage, a

.75-hectare space between the daara and the atelier where the community grows organic

12 This and all subsequent quotations with Mamoune are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

vegetables and experiments with traditional and new techniques. Ndem practices agroecology which their website defines as a “holistic approach that provides solutions to social, economic and ecological problems through the link between humans and nature”

(Agroécologie 2018). By addressing these issues together the community acknowledges the connection between human and environmental problems that have resulted in the rural exodus as well as recognizing the interconnection between sustainable farming practices and sustainable communities. They operate under the understanding that ecological impoverishment leads to economic and cultural impoverishment. This attitude reflects the views of social ecologists who assert that the solution to environmental problems cannot be solved without addressing inequality and injustice within the human sphere.

A driving force behind the agroecology project is Serigne bi’s son, Serigne Fallou

Mbow. Fallou originally pursued studies in Spanish literature but eventually left formal education to explore bioecology and agroecology. Although academically-minded he pursued his interests “in the Baye Fall way”, which for him was primarily concerned with respect for all life and a consciousness of one’s surroundings. He asserted the spiritual importance of environmental protection and ecological knowledge,

Everything that contributes to improving this living environment also pushes us to think about how to practice — that goes into the principles of Islam because ecology for us is a fundamental dimension of Islam and it was through our education that we fell in love with nature. It is Islam that made us love plants, it is Islam that made us love the earth, the beings, the ants and everything around us. It really comes from the Islamic spiritual source, which exhorts to deepen love for and to see the beauty of nature (Fallou, 07/04/18).

Fallou considers his spirituality not only to support his ecological convictions but expressed that it is their source. While he drew a clear line between his faith and his love

for nature it is important to acknowledge that many factors might have played into this attitude not the least of which is the experience of being born and raised in an eco- friendly village. Fallou asserted that it was the concept of dominating the planet that has brought us to intensive agriculture, which he viewed as spiritually and physically negative, arguing that a proper relationship with the earth should be regarded as an exchange. Austrian disciple Berta — educated in environmental resource management, tropical ecology and trained in organic agriculture — also viewed industrial and conventional farming as problematic. She described the common understandings of agriculture as an equation in which only material gain was factored in when in fact there was a great deal ignored in this calculation. To her, these forms of farming, “create a lot of losses for the environment, they create a lot losses for the social networks where this farming is done, it creates a lot of losses in the spiritual realm between the people and the environment” (Berta, 07/03/18)13.

In the communities of Serigne bi the use of agroecology strives to maintain balance and practice a spiritually sound form of farming. The maraîchage contains a pesticides free market garden that aims to ensure the safety and food sovereignty of the local populations while improving their nutritional health through diversified availability of vegetables. In this garden more than 100 adults have been trained in organic techniques and drip irrigation. They have installed and facilitated similar gardens in two other villages. In the maraîchage there are also enclosures containing livestock and some more exotic animals such as peacocks and ostriches. The animals kept in this space not

13 This and all subsequent quotations with Berta are taken from an interview that was conducted in English, with no translation necessary.

only supply manure to fertilize the organic farm but also offer an opportunity to be exposed to and learn about other creatures. Along with functional purposes, this space is also seen as an educational tool to raise awareness and teach about “biodiversity, ecology, peasant agriculture, reforestation, health, return to the land, the responsibility of man vis-à-vis the creation that surrounds it” (Jardin Faune et Flore). Each Saturday the

“nature club” introduces children to these concepts and attempts to impart not only knowledge but also, according one of the garden managers Aisha, a love of nature. This goal is a clear reflection of Serigne bi’s philosophy, as he put it “if we do not have love of the environment we can not protect the environment” (Serigne Babacar, 06/10/18)14.

A B

Figure 3-2. Images from the Ndem maraîchage A) Sign describing the different aspects of the “Jardin Faune et Flore” or the garden of flora and fauna, B) Pépinière or tree nursery

14 This and all subsequent quotations with Serigne Babacar were taken from interviews that were conducted in French, which I translated into English.

Aisha and her husband Cheikh manage the Ndem garden together and are the only family to actually live within the maraîchage walls. The couple is very busy farming, tending to the animals, organizing and teaching the students who come to learn about and love nature. Cheikh told me that he was on track to be a footballer when Serigne bi asked him to stay and work in the village, so he had no formal training in agriculture or ecology. Everything he knew about caring for plants and animals he credited to his marabout. When I inquired where Serigne bi learned these skills he replied that he simply knew. After thinking for a moment he revised his statement, saying that the sheikh did not learn how to farm but picked up knowledge and skills over time through experience and exchange. Agricultural and spiritual knowledge was a constant part of Cheikh’s education here in Ndem and he described Serigne bi as his mother, his father, his uncle – as everything.

Like Mamoune, Aisha and Fallou were born in Ndem, and Cheikh moved to the village when he was six or seven years of age. Because the village is 35 years old there are a limited number of adults who have grown up there and it does not seem like a coincidence that these children of Ndem have landed in important managerial positions.

They all describe a love for the environment as part of their education. According to

Cheikh they grew up with the understanding of humanity’s complete dependence on the natural world. Aisha described to me how working in the garden, and particularly with the animals, taught her love and patience and “all those names proper to God” (Aisha,

07/05/18)15. Fallou averred that “growing up in a spiritual community that gives an

15 This and all subsequent quotations with Aisha are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

important place to nature, one is necessarily brought to have a respectful vision of the environment and we in Ndem grew up planting trees, raising sheep, goats, and chickens.

So it is through this life lived together that makes our commitment to nature deepen naturally” (Fallou, 07/04/18). Mamoune also credited the education he received from

Serigne bi as inspiring his own love for nature. While the sheikh is cited as their educator, residents place high importance on formal learning as well. When both Mamoune and

Aisha left the village to pursue higher education they both felt the difference in attitudes, a great loss in the sense of community and felt out of place in the city. Mamoune in particular viewed his time at university as an opportunity to gain skills to help with the mission of his home village (Mamoune, 05/27/18).

For some, growing up in Ndem has fostered what appears to be lifelong spiritual and environmental connection, others, however, chose to join the community of Serigne bi later in life and nearly all of the Senegalese inhabitance of the daara repatriated from cities. It not only attracts those from Baye Fall or Murid backgrounds but also community members and converts from other Islamic orders as well as foreigners from Europe,

North America and Asia. As Moussa described it, Ndem is like the signature patchwork clothing of the Baye Fall, made from a diversity of different colors and backgrounds but forming a strong and cohesive whole (Moussa personal communication, June 22 2018).

His wife Fatou was born in France but grew up in the United States and is of American-

French heritage. She came to the village for the first time 28 years before and eventually converted into the Baye Fall suborder and started a family in the village. Her decision to move there was a spiritual commitment, “Ndem is the manifestation of the proper disposition when it actually materialized, it creates something that is in accordance with

divine will and is healthy for humans” (Fatou, 05/26/18). She along with many others described a feeling of calm serenity that was sensed in the community and Fatou described it as an “intuitive place” that for many it feels like they have “come home”

(Fatou, 05/26/18).

Mbacké Kadior

Although remaining the spiritual guide of Ndem and the driving force behind many of its projects, Serigne Babacar no longer lives in the village. For the past three years he has been based just outside of Mbacké Kadior, which houses his newest project.

Mbacké Kadior, although by all appearances a typical village, has a significant history for the Murid order. It was there that Muridism is said to have begun, where Cheikh Amadou

Bamba was born and where Cheikh Ibrahima Fall sought out and first encountered the saint under a great old tree to become his disciple. Although the tree is no longer standing, the place where it once grew is cordoned off and people make pilgrimages to the site. During my first tour of Mbacké Kadior my Senegalese traveling companion entered the space, a fenced-off area around a rectangle of bare, exposed sand within a half-built sanctuary. My friend dropped to his knees, praying, and then, to my surprise took a pinch of sand and ate it, placing another pinch in a pouch of folded paper. He explained that the sand held the baraka or spiritual power of these two sheikhs and was made sacred by their meeting here. The sand now held this power and by consuming it some of that energy would pass into his body. If placed in water he could save it and drink it to cure any ailment.

Cheikh Sidy Mokhtar Mbacké was a grandson of Bamba and the caliph general of the Murid tariqa from July 2010 until his death in January 2018. Reportedly one of his first acts as leader of the Murides was to call practitioners to “retour à la terre” or go

“back to the land”. Part of his efforts in this regard was the project at Mbacké Kadior. As with the family Mbacké, leadership of the Baye Fall order is also passed down patrilineally. Furthermore, the complementary relationship that Sokhna Aisha illustrated between Bamba and Ibra Fall has also continued through the succession of leadership. It was for this reason that Cheikh Sidy Mokhtar gave the responsibility of restoring or

“bringing back to life” of the historic site at Mbacké Kadior to Serigne Cheikh Dieumb

Fall, Khalif General of the Baye Fall, who in turn gave this mission to Serigne bi – due at least in part to the impressive example of Ndem. When Serigne bi undertook this new mission his community split. Some migrated to Mbacké Kadior with the Mbow family and others remained to maintain and continue the work being done in Ndem. Evidently

Serigne bi was the one who dictated who remained and who accompanied him. While no one knows his reasoning for each individual decision, it seems that for the most part he brought with him younger or single disciples and left families and less physically capable devotees in Ndem along with several young leaders such as Mamoune, Cheikh and

Aisha.

When the small group of roughly 20 people first arrived in Mbacké Kadior there was nothing where the daara is now. The site is about one kilometer outside of the village proper down a newly laid red gravel road. Like Ndem, the daara is now carpeted with soft swept sand but here the greenery is newly planted and only a handful of trees provide shade. The rest of the trees, bushes, and plants are small and landscaped with white painted rock borders—significantly barer than its older counterpart. The kitchen is almost entirely outdoors and most of the other structures are square thatched huts with each compound separated by millet stock fences. There are two communal shade

structures, one near the kitchen where breakfast and dinner are eaten and another that is decorated with photographs of important religious leaders and lined with Bougainvillea where the community has lunch. There are also two chest height concrete cisterns, which, as Serigne bi explained, mimic the traditional methods used in the region and keep the water cool. Surrounding the beautifully maintained residential area are more haphazard construction sites where many of the Baye Fall work during the day.

A B

C Figure 3-3. Images from the daara at Mbacké Kadior A) The millet stalk hut home of Berta where I stayed during my visits, B) Poubelle or trashcan under one of the shade structures, C) The patch of sand marking where Bamba and Ibra Fall first met

The daara at Mbacké Kadior has now grown to a core group of around 50 and the communal atmosphere is notable. Apparently some of the collectivity gradually dissipated from Ndem over time—particularly with the departure of Serigne bi. All meals

in the new eco-village are cooked communally by the women and are eaten together, seated on ground mats around large, shallow bowls. To indicate meal times the call,

“Baye Fall, xeewal!” rings out across the daara. It is what wakes many up in the morning, signals the end of the working day, and brings them together at night. Although there is a strong emphasis on greeting in Senegal, in the daara every person that passes by smiles and takes the time to acknowledge the other, sometimes stopping for a Baye

Fall handshake — grasping the other persons hand and bringing it to ones forehead, back and forth several times, often placing a hand over ones heart to finish. It is unclear who is related to who; in a community such as this every older woman is your mother, every peer your sibling and every child your child. People work together seamlessly under the calm, watchful supervision of their sheikh.

The Project

The main goals of the project at Mbacké Kadior center around the revalorization of rural life and Cheikh Sidy Mokhtar’s call back to the land. The site, Nguiguiss Bamba

(although everyone simply calls it Mbacké Kadior), is characterized as “a societal project for the rehabilitation and servicing of this community, nowadays considered as the cradle of the Muridiyya and which has the ultimate aim of bringing back a sense of pride for the heritage that represents the locality” (“Réhabilitation & Viabilisation Du Site Historique

De Mbacké Kadior”). Sokhna Aisha described Mbacké Kadior as a demonstration of the possibility of a different kind of life, to exist in harmony with nature and the environment for oneself and to be more connected with the divine. She compared people to trees, if you plant trees too close together they cannot flourish, they need space to grow —

“People have to come out of the cities, cement and concrete if they want peace” (Sokhna

Aisha, 06/03/18).

The village will provide both practical paths and religious infrastructure in order to promote these goals and revitalize the connection between Murides and agriculture in a sustainable way. The grounds will be divided into roughly four main areas. Related to the spiritual significance of this site the community is constructing a sanctuary, which will commemorate the meeting of Cheikh Amadou Bamba and Mame Cheikh Ibrahima Fall, as well as serving as a venue for prayer and religious events. One hectare will be dedicated to the “résidence Mame Cheikh Ibrahima Fall” or a kind of headquarters for the

Baye Fall suborder including a house for the Khalif General, lodging for religious leaders and guides, as well as guests. The area will also include communal dining, kitchens, gardens and various offices. The rest of the space will serve the purposes of expanding opportunities for a sustainable and fulfilling village existence.

Education is a critical aspect of the project because the younger generation has largely lost the knowledge of farming techniques, and now requires the tools to live a rural life in a dignified way. Facilities will be built including dormitories, a library, and a health center. Students will be provided with resources such as solar powered lights to use to study during the evening. Learning will be promoted in a variety of different contexts. Mbacké Kadior will offer a primary school and spiritual education along with vocational job training programs. All children will be provided with basic sustainable agriculture training and at the age of 12 or 13 they will choose a practical profession, with the option to continue with in-depth instruction in agroecology. In preparation for the agro-centric focus of their training school the community is currently building animal stables and an aquaponic facility to complement the teaching farm.

A B

Figure 3-4. Images from the project at Mbacké Kadior A) An informational booklet on the project, B) Drummers playing during a work party building an “ecodome” for livestock

Green building is another eco-practice that is being experimented with in Mbacké

Kadior. The huts in the daara are made from millet stalks in a semi-traditional fashion. In the test garden area the animal stables are being constructed as “ecodomes”. This style of building includes tightly filling bags with sand mixed with small amounts of concrete, which are then stacked so they are self-supporting and the finished structure is plastered with mud. Although this method is more environmentally friendly, uses local materials, and is cost effective, it is highly labor intensive. The spiritual regard for labor within the suborder becomes evident helping and watching the community members digging, tossing buckets of sand, and creating these structures. The day I participated in building an ecodome it was about 90 degrees fahrenheit yet everyone smiled and worked energetically as they sang praise songs or as group of musicians beat drums to the rhythm of the work.

The educational component of Mbacké Kadior will focus its attention on youth but will also offer adult literacy and artisanal training, primarily for rural women whose education was often deprioritized. It also strives to serve as a model sustainable village for local communities. The eco-village already houses smaller versions of Ndem’s workshops and produces products that are different but made with the same ethos as their sister village. 8.5 hectares of land was donated and will become the main farm site. The land will be divided into seven sections to create models and find sustainable ways to farm within their dry climate, which can be applied to small family farms. The donated land also houses a pépinière or tree nursery where plants are started from cuttings or seed.

Austrian disciple Berta stressed the importance of finding methods and techniques that were accessible — easy to put into practice, cheap, and using locally available resources. The purpose of the project is to spread agroecology and create a local model to give hope and new tool sets to local farmers. Berta expressed the difficulty of agriculture in this region, the soil fertility and arid climate made it particularly challenging. Organic and sustainable methods developed in other parts of Senegal or introduced from other countries often do not work in these specific conditions. She also expressed the need to develop techniques that the local people would be comfortable with — that would not seem like “toubab weirdness”16. Additionally, many of the efforts to apply traditional

16 “Toubab” is a local Senegalese term for foreigner. It does not tend to include black or Africans and does not necessarily come with negative connotations.

ecological knowledge in this region have failed because the climate has changed so drastically in the past 100 years (Cochrane 2013a, 112).17

The process of trial and error, experimentation and innovation is a long and difficult one, which the spiritual attitudes of the community may abate. Sokhna Aisha asserted that although agricultural work was difficult in the sahelian climate, what was truly important in this situation was to have “unified hearts” and keep the teachings of

Amadou Bamba and Ibrahima Fall close (Sokhna Aisha, 06/03/18). Berta viewed the variability and strain of farming as a spiritual experience in itself, saying that it

“nourishes” her even when nothing grows. She explained that the uncertainty in agriculture has taught her patience and worked to counteract the “doubtfulness” that she viewed as a personal flaw. When I asked the villagers what the biggest challenge was in the eco-village they typically replied that every aspect of their experience was important and caused them to grow and learn. It seemed apparent that the spiritual motivation and inspiration which permeated the work and actions of Serigne bi’s community played an important role in the Mbacké Kadior project, turning what could easily be viewed as trying and frustrating tasks into a spiritual experience.

Serigne Babacar Mbow

On July 4th, 2018, one of my last days in the Mbacké Kadior daara I went to interview Serigne bi out in the test garden. When I arrived I found him kneeling on the ground, next to a disciple who was digging small hole. The sheikh was placing seeds in the ground and another other disciple followed as they moved, watering the freshly

17 This statement is also based on local histories of the changing landscape and climate as communicated by interviewees. It is also supported by studies explored in the second chapter, which noted such trends in the Senegalese and Sahelian region in general.

turned mounds of sandy dirt. I asked to help and Serigne seemed lightly amused and gave me a handful of greenish cashews, showing me how to plant them. After we had finished we dusted off our hands, seated ourselves on some pallets and began talking. My interviews and interactions with the marabout never went quite as I expected, sometimes

I felt as though I was asking the wrong questions, sometimes he interpreted things entirely differently from me. This was one of those conversations. Later that day Berta told me that after our talk Serigne bi said to her “the act of planting a seed, it can teach a person more about the divine than all the books if you have the capability to understand the depth of it” (Berta, 07/04/18). After hearing this I began to have the distinct impression that my time quietly planting cashews with the sheikh may have been my real interview.

Figure 3-5. Serigne bi planting cashews

During my visit I estimated that Serigne bi is probably in his late 60s or early 70s; it was hard to tell because of his youthfulness and energy. The sheikh has long gray dreadlocks which are almost always tucked into a large knit cap so that only silvery muttonchops are visible. His eyes have a blueish tint and along with his colorful Baye

Fall clothing he has a presence that undeniably implies wisdom and makes his spiritual importance evident. At the same time he has a friendly smile and an engaging conversation style that makes it easy to forget his status as a religious guide to a vast international following. Diarra told me that the sheikh sometimes asked her to edit his writing and not only took her corrections but also her suggestions, insisting that his disciples must understand and agree with his writings. He is also made himself approachable by his tendency to work alongside members of the community, planting seeds, building, or even stepping into an assembly line of workers tossing buckets full of sand or concrete.

The eco-villages of Serigne bi seem to be a family endeavor. His French wife

Aisha is often said to complement his spiritual power by offering structure and organization to the community, as well as providing passion and clarity to their projects alongside her husband. The couple has five grown children who are all involved. Two of them live in Dakar and seem more connected with the business side of Maam Samba and the other three, Cheikhuna, Yangone and Fallou all live in the eco-villages. Cheikhuna heads the alternative fuel initiative that aims to create a peanut shell based replacement for coal. Yangone is the president of Eco-jeune, which works on environmental projects and education with rural Senegalese youth. Finally Fallou, as we have seen, works

extensively with the sustainable farming component of the project along with coordinating internships and many other responsibilities and projects.

The marabout rarely talked about himself or shared personal details and there was much about his person that remained elusive. However, the members of his community provided insight that my short visits did not allow me to witness. The veterinarian in

Ndem recounted Serigne bi’s love for animals and his kindness even to those such as dogs, which are said to ritually unclean within Islam, as well as cats, which many

Senegalese regard as “saay-saay”, namely, mischievous or naughty. Berta recounted the story of when Serigne bi’s party first arrived at the Mbacké Kadior site and there was a large ant nest in the sand near the sheikh’s hut. Instead of killing the little creatures or destroying their home he retold the story of King Solomon from the Qur’an (See: Qur’an

27:18-19), who could understand the languages of all the animals. When the king’s caravan was marching one day he could hear the ants which lay in his path and turned his army to go around their nest and avoid killing them. After this story Serigne bi went to the kitchen and retrieved a handful of grain which he deposited next to the nest, a little ritual he would continue until the ants moved on. This behavior demonstrates the way that Serigne bi used his religious tradition to explain and place value on actions that are considered quite a-typical in this region: the protection of a creature which does not benefit and may even cause harm to the humans around them. The application of textual sources also offers an example of the discursive tradition of Talal Asad within the context of Mbacké Kadior.

Although the ecological focus of Ndem was not the original purview of the project it was clear that this developed quickly, stemming from Serigne bi’s

understanding that environmental concerns were intimately tied with his conception of good Islamic practice. The environment, he asserted, is the foundation of life where existence lies, and respect for the earth is a fundamental part of Islamic belief along with all other religions. The marabout explained that there were two functions of the natural world: the practical and the spiritual, but both were important within religious practice.

Practically we depend on the environment for survival and Serigne bi described the functional intricacies of ecological systems as irreplaceable and giving the example of the carbon sequestering and oxygen generating function of trees. From a Sufi perspective it is also critical to protect environmental systems because of the spiritual inspiration they provide. In the Qur'an, he explained, there are many verses that tell believers to meditate in and on nature. This resembles the “book of nature” style interpretation that has been employed in other Abrahamic faiths to place value in nature because of what it can teach us about the divine (Gould 2005b, Book of Nature).

To Serigne bi the environment nurtures humans in these two different arenas making the importance of its protection evident. Further, the sheikh acknowledged the anthropogenic nature of the environmental problems we face, stating that we, particularly now with the growth of industrialization, cause destruction and degradation and that this is one of the great problems of humanity. He called our epoch “the world of profit and materiality”. Although acknowledging the problem in humanity in general he noted that western industrialists came to Africa and utilized resources without understanding the cultural or ecological environment into which they were stepping.

When I asked Serigne bi how he became interested in the environment he seemed a bit confused at the question, “the environment is natural”, he replied, “it is love, it is

something that I cannot really describe, it is part of us” (Serigne Babacar, 06/10/18). My question sought an origin story, a person or key moment that brought clarity to Serigne bi’s love for nature and efforts to protect it but for him there was no beginning to these sentiments. He conveyed that it was part of his culture and spiritual reality— something that had always been.

Analysis

The communities of Serigne bi are unique in many ways in terms of their lifestyles, the quality of life in a rural setting, and in their forms of worship. Muridism and the Baye Fall ethos underlie the actions that the community has taken and provide a structure that is critical to the current manifestations of Ndem and Mbacké Kadior. It is significant that the foundation of the Senegalese Murid order was based in resistance of, and on their survival through the oppression and trials of colonialism. Bamba was flexible and accommodating in a way that he and his order persevered and even grew under occupation. However, as Cheikh Anta Babou points out through his work Fighting the Greater Jihad, Bamba was also revolutionary. Gabou did not live within the community but was an influential and well-known Murid, frequent visitor, and important economic contributor to the projects of his sheikh. He told me that Africans needed to be emancipated, that all the revolutions in the world such as the agricultural revolution and the slavery that came with it, the industrial revolution etc. have had negative implications for Africa and he contended that Muridism was the response. To Gabou it was an

“African Islam” that could generate development and progress on the ground. It also, he averred, promoted a unique intersection between the spiritual, the cultural and economic dimensions through its home-grown origins and its emphasis on labor and agriculture

(Gabou, personal communication, July 3 2018)18. Murides such as Gabou view the tariqa as a medium through which the Senegalese may create positive change for themselves – it is an order which prioritizes self-sufficiency and flexibility while maintaining its identity, and this is demonstrated through the eco-villages of Serigne bi.

The Murides gained power and economic stability through their monopoly on peanut production, the work component of their devotional practices were originally focused on farm labor. Babou asserted that Bamba’s confrontation with the French and the damaging effects of living within their systems caused him to associate freedom with geographic space. Having land allowed him to realize his spiritual and communal vision and in this way land and farming became highly associated with autonomy and religious liberty (Babou 2007, 164). Many of my interlocutors also acknowledged that the Baye

Fall were particularly connected to nature and agriculture because their labor was traditionally centered on the land. Fatou asserted that although Baye Fall prayed through all kinds of work, working with the land was of particular importance. Diarra referred to this as “earth-work”, explaining that from her perspective it is very natural in the Baye

Fall ethic to be drawn to agriculture, to value sustainability, the land, and rural living.

Working in nature was traditionally their responsibility within the Murid structure and so it was natural that they are still drawn to it, as Serigne bi’s community clearly was

(Diarra, 06/03/18).

Environmental protection in the eco-village was not only related to the spiritual importance of work or the Baye Fall’s connection to agriculture but also based in a

18 This and all subsequent quotations with Gabou are taken from a conversation that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

scientific understanding of the climate crisis. Many of the community members were well educated, some specifically having degrees in relevant subjects such as resource management, tropical ecology, geography etc., while others such as Fallou were self- taught. Serigne bi, and therefore many of his disciples, framed environmental concerns in ecological terms often referencing the effect of climactic change and environmental degradation as disrupting systems or a balance. In particular the importance of trees for regulating the atmosphere and oceans and their intimate connection to Senegalese life were themes raised repeatedly. Some of the language used by the marabout was reminiscent of the concept of khalifa or a stewardship ethic while also regarding the practical aspects such as the necessity of healthy ecosystems and a “natural harmony” for the survival of humanity and the planet. Fallou stressed that the loss of pollinators such as bees could mean the end of agriculture as we know it or even of human societies.

Although not always using explicitly scientific language it was clear that the teachings of the sheikh and the general understanding of the community was one which used ecological thought and language in concert with their spiritual motivations for environmental protection.

A common critique of the Abrahamic faiths within the religion and nature milieu is that they tend toward anthropocentrism– a mindset that many scholars concerned with the greening of religion or environmental ethics find problematic. Lynn White argued that it was the human centric aspects of the Abrahamic faiths that actually triggered the environmental crisis (White 1967). In Environmental Ethics Joseph DesJardin noted that many environmental issues, such as overuse of pesticides, air and water pollution, actually arose from the anthropocentrism of the early environmental movement.

Although I encountered community members with human centered outlooks, using such rhetoric as referring to the earth being “made for humans,” I also experienced a surprising amount of affinity for bio- and ecocentric thought. The marabout himself spoke of the interconnection of the natural world implying that humans were inseparable from this system. He asserted that the actions of humans made the “world suffer”. Although

Serigne bi did not necessarily claim a non-anthropocentric view, he made many statements that considered the whole system rather than simply human concerns – a perspective that set him apart from many of Senegalese I encountered.

One night after the community watched a nature documentary about African animals I brought up the disappearance of the lion, giraffe and elephant etc. from Senegal and asked Fallou to speak about human-animal relations from his perspective. He asserted that humans were the cause of the changing climate as well as the imperilment of these creatures in Senegal and that we should care for both domestic and wild animals.

He stressed that human ideas of possession were detrimental to the health of the planet, and explained, “I have no more right to exist than an ant” (Fallou, 07/04/18). He claimed the disappearance of native animals in Senegal as a loss, including the big predators, a view which contrasted with mainstream opinion since these carnivores are often viewed as a threat to the life and livelihood of humans. Statements such as these demonstrated an understanding of the earth from a holistic perspective as well as a democratization of value that is characteristic of ecocentrism. This perspective is uncommon, even within the

Mbacké Kadior community where wild cats19 are still sometimes killed if they attack domestic animals.

Fallou, implied the intrinsic value of other creatures and aspects of creation, however Berta used this language explicitly. When she discussed the value of the natural world I asked her where this value came from. She immediately differentiated between valuing things that were useful in contrast with respecting them because their value was inherent. In her eyes, if viewed holistically, even employing a utilitarian view brought an understanding that everything is valuable because of the interdependence within ecosystems. At the same time she contended that understanding the natural world as having intrinsic value was more logical because she did not believe that the worth of any entity could be quantified. Berta asserted that understandings of the interconnectedness of the earth logically led to this interpretation of value and believed these concepts to be supported through Islamic belief and the example of her marabout.

Although Berta’s vocabulary and conceptual understanding of ecology was likely different from Senegalese disciples because of her European origins and educational background, the ideas that she expressed did not seem out of place within the context of the village and she explained that her spirituality and love for nature seem to have come together through her work in the community. It is likely that the intercultural exchange of ideas and international nature of Serigne bi’s community also influenced the way that environmental protection and humanities place within nature is perceived.

19 Although large predators such as lions and crocodiles have virtually been wiped out in Senegal, locals still report sittings of small wild cats with a variety of markings that they call “njapan”.

While outside concepts and attitudes were influential in the communities it is also important to take into account what is distinctive about the religious and ecological approachs in the eco-villages. Fatou is a longtime convert and dedicated member of the

Baye Fall community, however, she expressed that she was still unsure of how pre-

Islamic tendencies effected environmental propensities or even social dynamics and

Senegalese life in general. She used the example of a friend’s negotiation between his matrilineal ethnic groups and Islamic religious identity, concluding that it seemed that the two worked together (Fatou, 05/26/18).

Fallou argued that there were aspects of African culture that encouraged ecological behavior such as the integration of different generations, animals and even trees within a typical Senegalese home. Fallou stated, “in Africa there has always been this symbiosis between nature and the human being. There is no religion that encourages the belittlement of nature — contrary to what today determines most of Western thought”

(Fallou, 7/04/18). This statement paints a somewhat essentialist and an unduly rosy portrait of the human/ecological relationship in Africa. Nevertheless, it highlights

Fallou’s belief, and that of many other eco-villagers, that the Senegalese have traditionally had a harmonious relationship with nature in their religion.

Ousmane Pame also believed there to be an old connection between West

Africans and their environment. He cited the stories of his grandmother, her tales of his home village as densely forested and her example as a dedicated shepherdess as inspiration for his involvement in GEN Africa and REDES.

Serigne bi himself acknowledged the importance of the local perspective in his regard for the natural world. In Wolof, the maternal language of the majority of

Senegalese and Murides in particular, the word garab means both “tree” and “medicine”.

To the sheikh this homonym, along with other examples, illustrated the understanding that our whole lives: all that we eat and all that sustains us comes from nature.

It was not uncommon to hear language that spoke of the natural world as animated, in a way that seemed highly heterodox and perhaps connected to cultural beliefs more than Islamic ones. One community member approached me to explain his work and relationship to the natural world. He averred that it was better to search for God in the creation here on earth rather than the sky and that is why he chose to work with plants. He described the trees as his “best friends” and that they should be treated as one would treat any other companion. He greeted the trees every morning and watered them

“with a little love” (Community member, personal communication, July 4 2018).

I encountered ideas such as this on several accounts, which gave agency to and even anthropomorphized that natural world. However, such rhetoric was by no means universal in the communities of Serigne bi and likely would have been frowned upon by some. Additionally, it was difficult to pinpoint where beliefs and worldviews came from because all of the community members I spoke to identified as Muslim Baye Fall.

Questioning the origins of their beliefs could have easily cost me their trust because it could be misconstrued as a question of authenticity and because of the historical use of concepts such as Islam Noir, which was used to isolate and degrade Islam during colonial

French occupation. As a foreign researcher it seemed important to exercise caution due to this history and my outsider position but also because of an expressed sensitivity linked to the negative stereotypes of Baye Fall as “bad or illegitimate Muslims” that was explained by Diarra.

Other unconventional practices were subtler such as the ingesting of sand at the spot where Bamba and Ibra Fall met. On another occasion I was invited to drive out to a great tree where Ibra Fall used to go to be alone and rest. Locals also believed that his likeness was visible in the tree bark. Like many older Baobabs this one was hollow and as soon as we stepped inside my guide fell onto his knees and began reciting a passage of the Qur’an from a small book. The Arabic filled the hollow and mixed with the sound of squeaking bats that fluttered above. There seemed to be a reverence for this tree and its ability to contain spiritual energy that was, if nothing else, facilitated by the reverence for the baobab long presence in Senegalese culture.

Although the project at Mbacké Kadior is larger scale than Ndem, the chance to observe both villages at different stages in their development provided me with a rare and fascinating opportunity. The projects were only about 60 kilometers apart, in the same bioregion and they therefore had similar climatic and social issues – yet the differences between them were notable. Ndem was significantly greener and its trees much more mature. Serigne bi and his disciples planted many of them and after 30 years the entire village is more vegetated and cooler in temperature. Although the eco-village aspects were more developed, Ndem has also lost some of its communalism over time. Families now eat most meals privately and the daara is much calmer and feels less populated although plenty of people live there.

I asked many residents or frequent visitors of Ndem differences they detected in the community after their marabout moved to Mbacké Kadior. For the most part my interlocutors said there was no real difference, that their goals and motivations were still the same. Mamoune and Fallou, however, both agreed that having a figure of religious

authority present did have an impact on the community. To Fallou the difference was clear, he noted that Ndem was calmer and there was less activity on all levels, describing his father as a special person who “knows how to move things” (Fallou, 7/04/18).

Perhaps because of his leadership position Mamoune highlighted the same issue. He explained that Baye Fall are characterized by their dedication to their sheikh and this allowed impressive productivity and energy – if the religious guide wants something done it was executed without problem. Mamoune, as respected as he is, struggled to maintain this momentum as he does not wield equivalent religious power.

Both of the eco-communities contrasted fairly sharply with the surrounding villages. The Ndem daara, and particularly the youthful population of Mbacké Kadior, were peopled mainly by individuals and families that had left the cities or even other countries for the village. The NGO, its projects, as well as the collective nature of the villages increased food security and offered a more stable standard of living for its residents. The inhabitants were also well educated, Sergine B installed a secondary school in Ndem and a surprising number of men and women spoke good French or in some cases English and the majority of my interviewees had been to college.

In Weaving through Islam in Senegal Cochrane described Ndem’s pristine, garbage free appearance in contrast to other villages and cities in Senegal (Cochrane

2013b, 100). Five years later and after the departure of Serigne bi it seems that this aspect of Ndem has changed too. Although there was significantly less litter in Ndem than is typical, trash was still piled and burned and sprinkled throughout the village. When thinking about this the panopticon came to mind, a concept developed by philosopher and foundational utilitarian Jeremy Bentham, which was later discussed in Foucault’s

Discipline and Punish. It was essentially a round prison-style building, in the middle was a tower from which the incarcerated individuals may or may not have been monitored at any given time. It was the constant possibility of being watched that created the power dynamics that held inmates in check (Fouault 1995). Bringing up the panopticon by no means implies that the communities of Ndem or Mbacké Kadior were prison-like in any way but instead that the very presence of Serigne bi, the idea that he was watching his disciples, might promote pro-environmental behavior just as the tower was shown to improve prison behavior. Perhaps a more palatible comparison could be Ara

Norenzayan’s “big gods” concept, which argued that powerful gods demanded intense loyalty and public displays which were conducive to pro-social and morality-based behavior (Norenzayan 2013). On another occasion, during a car trip from Mbacké Kadior to Ndem a community member, after finishing a soda, casually tossed the can out of her window. This was suprising behavior after a day of hard labor building an eco-dome alongside Serigne bi and listening to his ecological messages. In short, some actions such as the use of trashcans might be motivated from an authoritative ouside force rather than an internal one.

Regardless of these speculations, my experiences in Ndem and Mbacké Kadior indicate that their accomplishments have impacted the local community and environment in positive ways which have been supported by their spiritual beliefs and the guidance of

Serigne bi. This sheikh and his eco-villages provide a compelling example of the power and influence of religious leaders which Pame repeatedly stressed. Many of the disciples of this eco-marabout have come from different backgrounds and viewpoints but converged and worked collectively to achieve a model and create a community to

promote a dignified, sustainable, and homegrown solution to the rural exodus and environmental degradation of their region. As Berta told me while we sat out a sandstorm in her cozy hut, “Ndem for me is not a project, it’s not an environmentally sustainable eco-village…it is on a certain dimension but deeply it’s simply a spiritually coherent place. The rest becomes self-evident” (Berta, 07/03/18).

CHAPTER 4 THE URBAN: DAKAR— CLEANING STREET AND SOUL

Dakar is a city that moves and one of extremes. Le Plateau area juxtaposes gleaming skyscrapers and French architecture with colorful, stall-filled markets. Sleek and expensive cars share the road with loud motorcycles, ancient taxis and brightly

“bling-bling” painted cars rapides, whose patterns loudly declare religious affiliation through symbol and text. Further out, Dakar’s streets mix the modern with dirt roads, horse-drawn carriages, sheep and sometimes even ranging cattle. Towering minarets in every neighborhood fill the air with the call to prayer five times a day while fashionable nightclubs pump pop, rap, and mbalax throughout the nights. Constantly changing graffiti and murals splash color onto the walls and concrete, addressing topics from politics to music to religion and occasionally environmental protection.

In many ways, the diversity of the Senegalese people matches this built environment. There is a constant yet somewhat languid bustle, of people moving to and from work and the markets, visiting friends and family, working out on the sandy beaches and rollerblading through traffic. They don traditional boubous or taybaas made from stiff bazin or boldly patterned wax along with fashionable western-style clothes and occasionally Arab attire.

Dakar: Some Context

Dakar is the capital of Senegal and by far its largest urban area. It was reportedly settled in the 15th century and was a hub for the slave trade until the French abolished it in 1794, although the trade lingered on for several decades. The city was “founded” in

1857 when the French built a fort there to protect merchants based on the Île de Gorée just off the coast. Dakar developed quickly and replaced Saint Louis as the French capital

of West Africa in 1902. The city grew in prominence because of its ideal location as a port for export and trade particularly during World War I (Britannica, 2017). The city proper along with its suburbs and surrounding areas, which are often referred to as

“Dakar” as well, hosted about one-quarter of the national population— 2.978 million people in 2018 (“The World Factbook: Senegal” 2018) and was projected to grow to 4.2 million in 2020 by the UN (Myers 2016, 4). It is the most western point of the African continent and an important center for business and commerce in West Africa and beyond.

It is, therefore, no surprise that Dakar was the destination for many of the masses that have abandoned village life. The capital is located on a peninsula and, as a consequence, its constant expansion has resulted in overcrowding – a problem made worse as youth continue to migrate there in search of better educational or economic opportunities. This has also made Dakar a strikingly young city with about 65% of the population under the age of 30 (La Population Du Sénégal En 2017; Barber 2018, 135).

This vibrant and shifting setting is also home to a host of environmental problems spurred on by the growing population among other factors, which in turn affects the health and standard of living of its citizens. Overcrowding, frequent electricity and water cuts, flooding, over and irresponsible fishing practices are just a few of the environmental and social hardships aggravated by the ever-growing city. Sand is extracted from the beaches, mostly for construction, and the coastal forest of fillao trees are regularly cut — both of which degrade the ecosystem. Locals report the disappearance of massive dunes during their lifetimes and along with the dwindling tree line the ocean has begun to erode the coast and threaten communities that were previously protected from the beating waves (Imam Malik, 07/10/18; Paco, 07/09/18). All cars are imported and most that

100

arrive in Dakar are at least eight years old due to shipping laws. These vehicles are often in poor repair, and not up to emission standards. This causes significant air pollution.

Many Dakarois choose to exercise by the ocean, reporting that it is easier to breathe along the coast. It is also not uncommon for people to avoid walking outside when they are ill because it is believed that the air will make them sicker. These examples demonstrate a consciousness of the pollution and a connection made between air quality and poor health. A 2018 study of the respiratory health of bus drivers in the Senegalese capital found that: “57.9% of bus drivers had a chronic cough, and 65.7% had a recurrent cold.

Lung function tests showed that 38.8% of bus drivers had asthma and 30.3% COPD” or

Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (Sylla, F et al. 2018). These statistics legitimize the concerns of city dwellers regarding air pollution.

For lack of a better disposal system, litter is often swept into piles and burned in the streets polluting the air contributing to the exhaust pollution, as well as contaminating waterways and the ocean which provides the Senegalese with their main source of protein: fish. According to a study on the environmental issues of plastic, burning this polymer based waste, as is frequently done in Senegal, results in the release of toxic chemicals such as dioxins and furans along with many others — or even lead, mercury or arsenic when burning electronic waste. They also reported that from the burned garbage

“runoff water carries leachate from acidic ash into the sea affecting the aquatic life”

(Nkwachukwu et al. 2013, 6). The garbage that is collected up by sanitation workers is taken to solid waste dumps. The largest in Senegal services Dakar and is located on the outskirts of Pikin. Mbeubeuss, also known as “trash mountain” is just that, a vast and smoking profusion of detritus, polluting the air and waterways just as burning trash does

101

in the streets but on a much larger scale. Professor of Urban International Studies Garth

Myers explained that citizens have attempted to tackle the environmental issues of

Mbeubeuss, which they feel the government ignores. Locals have created a “scavenger union” to recover reusables and recyclables, as well as building up soil to farm at its base

(Myers 2016).

As geographer Rosalind Fredericks argued in her various works regarding Dakar, political ecology, and garbage the city is not only plagued with an inadequate waste system but is subject to a complex system of garbage politics. To Fredericks, the state exercised its power in Dakar by “disciplining people through waste,” by burdening them with its disposal, and through fluctuating quality of services (Fredericks 2014, 533). She also highlighted the ways that waste has been used to by activists to make political statements. The masses have on several occasions brought the city to a standstill by creating barricades of garbage in the streets.

In her dissertation, Doing the Dirty Work: The Cultural Politics of Garbage

Collection in Dakar, Senegal, Fredericks highlighted the importance of the 1989 Set/Setal

Movement. In Wolof set/setal translates to “Be Clean/Make Clean" and it grew from the increasing neoliberalization of the 1980s. As we saw in the previous chapter, these social and economic shifts put pressure on the already stressed agricultural and rural sector driving much of the population into cities. Fredericks contended that the state built upon

Dakar’s importance during the colonial era, situating the city as the economic, and political hub of the country and elevated its status as an important religious center.

During this era there was a simultaneous disengagement of the government from civil society leading to a loss of social services and aggravating unemployment which led to a

102

climate of unrest and frustration (Fredericks 2009). Garbage and filth then became a powerful symbol of the inadequacies of the state and of the corruption and unscrupulousness within the government bodies. While garbage was used to shut down the city in the 1988 garbage riots, the youth led Set/Setal Movement took to the streets the next year with brooms and buckets to clean their neighborhoods with hopes of purifying their nation ethically as well.

Islam is a religion in which purity and cleanliness are of great importance, as illustrated through the ritual of wudu (ablutions), dietary restrictions etc. The emphasis on literal and symbolic cleansing within the Set/Setal Movement has been connected to this religious value—most notably by speaking to moral degradation such as prostitution, crime, and political corruption. This connection to Islam is subtle: Senegalese historian

Mamadou Diouf characterized the movement as primarily political and environmental while Fredericks more explicitly underlined its religious underpinnings. It is clear that the degree to which Islamic values play a role within set/setal is dependent on individuals and groups, particularly as it has been popularized and transitioned into an action instead of a movement. People now do or organize set/setal in more isolated bursts, some of which are explicitly religious.

In this chapter I survey religiously motivated or justified environmental actions within the urban context of Dakar by examining the actions of key players and organizations in three thematic areas: religious leaders, art, and politics. Unlike the eco- villages of Ndem and Mbacké Kadior, where the entire community participated and was united by environmental projects, Dakar’s ecological activity is diverse and spread out across the city. By exploring these different aspects of Islamic environmentalism or

103

Muslim environmentalism in the capital, I will examine the impact of religiously motivated or justified conservation and illuminate the ways various groups engage with and attempt to alleviate urban environmental issues, while drawing out larger themes, tensions and omissions.

The Imams

Imam Sarr’s “jihad on pollution” made international headlines in 2015 through a series of internet articles sparked by an interview with Al Jazeera (see Haque 2015). His home was not hard to find in the dusty streets of Guédiawaye — a town in the Dakar region — one simply had to ask a passerby near his mosque and they could point you to the tall, blue-tiled house adorned with leafy plants. Youssoupha Sarr is a kind, thin, older man originally from the northern city of St. Louis, or Ndar, as it was called before French occupation. One of the first things he mentioned was that he was from a family of fishermen and he described his childhood ritual of waking up early to go out on the boats and coming back to recite the Qur’an and learn the precepts of Islam. Sarr was the only one of his siblings to attend state school because of his father’s resistance to the French educational structure and so he studied within both the secular and Islamic systems. He worked as an administrative manager for years, particularly within the national education and health ministries. He has lived and worked in numerous Senegalese cities and towns including Thiès, Bambay, Mbour, Kolda, and finally Dakar. A quick google search will also reveal that Imam Sarr is not only a champion of environmental but social causes as well. A Press Afrik article entitled “Youssoupha Sarr un imam révolutionnaire par conviction et par altruism”1 praised his organizing in opposition of neighborhood energy

1 Translates to “Youssoupha Sarr a revolutionary imam by conviction and altruism”

104

cuts. Other articles described his role as President of the Guédiawaye Neighborhood

Collective in which he used his experience working within the government to fight against corruption and uneven distribution of resources and commodities. Yet another article called him “the imam who gives voice to the suburbs” (Carayol 2010)— all of these pieces detailed the importance he placed on social issues and painted him as someone that uses his position of authority to benefit and give voice to his community.

Imam Sarr’s political awareness, as well as his factual and broad understanding of the environmental issues in his nation and the globe, was matched by his passion for nature. When I asked him about the environmental issues facing Dakar he not only addressed the obvious and visible problems such as trash disposal but also more complicated matters unknown to the general public. He illustrated the consequences of the lack of green space that he described as the “lungs” of the city, the connection between overbuilding and flooding/water pollution, the way that cutting the coastal filao trees promotes beach erosion, and the destruction of biodiversity in general. He also referenced the importance of global efforts such as the Paris Agreement while conceding that the important goals and measures agreed upon in this summit were often difficult to implement or follow on the ground. Sarr’s disillusionment with his own government and secular regulation fed into his belief that Islam and his role as imam could support environmental protection in a meaningful way. However, he found fault even within the

Islamic structures and criticized the prevailing lack of awareness of or emphasis on ecological degradation. In an interview with Al Jazeera’s Nicolas Haque, Sarr fervently discussed the way these issues are generally ignored exclaiming, "This isn't just a local problem, it's a global issue. One the Muslim world is ignoring!" (Haque 2015).

105

When I asked Imam Sarr about the “jihad on pollution” he responded first by stressing the often misunderstood concept of jihad. He defined the term as “way of striving toward a goal by trying as much as possible to eliminate all the barriers that are deviating from this objective” (Sarr, 06/13/18)2. There are several different kinds of jihad and Sarr characterized his mission as simply carrying out Allah’s will and encouraging people to be better Muslims. He provided numerous principles to support his jihad which was also common within Islamic environmental ethics such as the ecological interpretation of harim status3. Ultimately, he argued the importance of his jihad from an anthropocentric perspective: God created humans to praise him, humans need a healthy environment to survive, flourish, and properly worship God, and therefore we should protect the environment. He evoked the role of khalifa or stewardship ethic when stating,

“it is Allah, subhanahu wa-ta'ala, who asks us to always be in accord with nature because it is he who created us and who created nature. So there is a symbiosis between man and nature and the environment. We must live in harmony with the environment so we must also respect the environment” (Sarr, 06/13/18). He explained that nature was made to contain everything we need and so it is our job to understand it, unlock its secrets, and this involved a responsibility of protection. Although Imam Sarr ultimately viewed environmental preservation as a humanitarian issue he acknowledged that short-sighted individual preferences and comforts may have to be sacrificed, and lifestyle changes

2 This and all subsequent quotations from Youssoupha Sarr are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

3 Mecca is the holy center of the Muslim faith and is considered harim, which translates to “forbidden”. In this context forbidden refers to certain actions within area of the city, for example where no animals can be killed and not even a leaf may be cut from a plant- and this is often taken to be a conservationist concept within the Islam and nature milieu.

106

would have to be made for the greater good. He asserted that Dakar could not continue to expand as before and that open spaces and vegetated areas had to be preserved, recycling and reuse programs should be started, as well as many other societal shifts.

The perfection of creation and its importance for human health was a theme that was returned to repeatedly by imam Sarr as he gave examples through the Senegalese context. Like Serigne bi and the disciples I encountered in the eco-villages, Sarr referenced the Wolof word garab for its double meaning— medicine and tree. To Sarr, the natural world not only provides us with the air we breathe and the nourishment we need but it is also a pharmacy. He asserted that although we might benefit from modern medicine, the Senegalese tradition contains natural remedies for all ailments. Imam Sarr showed me a tree growing in his courtyard and explained that when infused with water it could help with most pains and ailments. He did not know the name of the plant but only the common parlance, “soin tous,” or “care [for] all”. The importance of natural medicines from Sarr and Serigne bi’s perspectives shows that although environmental protection is framed as an Islamic duty, it is understood through an African context as well.

Sarr is not the only imam to promote environmentalism in this way within

Guédiawaye. He cited a group of religious leaders which he coordinates—although he would not divulge very much information about them out of respect for their privacy. He stated simply that they organized together and mobilized people for the environment as well as attempting to educate and generate a consciousness of environmental issues in other imams. On a more personal level, Sarr uses his position as a religious community leader to spread his green jihad. He employs Qur’anic teachings and relevant examples to

107

impart the message that environmental protection is a Muslim duty. He explained that the vast majority of the Senegalese population is Muslim, most pray five times a day and this gives him ample opportunity within the mosque to disseminate this message. He averred that the hardest part was to get people started and to spark their understanding. If a general comprehension of the physical and spiritual importance of nature was reached, however, this could be channeled into respect, concern, and behavioral changes. Sarr is a dedicated Murid, member of the Senegalese Sufi order of the Muridiyya, and draws inspiration from the example of Amadou Bamba and his resistance of the French, which he applies to modern social issues. As an imam, he admitted, he can only discuss issues with people and listen to their concerns. He also conceded that the bulk of decision- making power ultimately rested in the political sphere, however, he believes it is his duty to educate people and defend the interests of his community whose survival is intimately linked to their environment. Sarr’s passion and hard work have earned him wide recognition in and out of Dakar as well as the nickname the “green imam”.

Imam Malick also encourages defense of the environment through his religious platform and lives in Guédiawaye— about a twenty-minute walk from imam Sarr. Malick has been studying the Qur’an and Islamic jurisprudence since the age of seven and he spoke concisely yet enthusiastically about the topic of Islam and nature. While Sarr focused more on environmental problems and potential solutions, Malick went into depth on the reasons why these environmental problems exist. He stressed the perfection in which God created the world and the centrality of humanity in its degradation. Imam

Malick named ego and selfishness as the main sources of environmental destruction arguing that inequality and greed allowed some to have much while others had nothing.

108

Additionally, he traced many problems to human laziness, revealing his Murid ethic when he stressed that we must work to live in a clean and healthy environment and that our current predicament was a result of our indolence. In his own words, “it is man, it is us by our inadequacies that creates everything, the problems we find here in the environment. If we respect the divine rules there will be no problems” (Imam Malik,

07/10/18)4. To imam Malik, the environmental crisis is very much a spiritual crisis, as

Nasr and many other Islam and nature scholars have argued. Like imam Sarr, he contended that the Muslim faith contains an environmental message that is often ignored or misunderstood, providing a stewardship type argument. Malik described the world as

“belonging” to everyone and underlined the importance of ecological health for human health.

This younger imam seemed to have a more optimistic view than Sarr and highlighted his positive experience spreading his environmental message. Malik admitted that not everyone accepted the impact of humanity on the world or the Muslim responsibility to right this wrong but he estimated about 95% of his community agreed with him. Imam Malik seemed to believe that all people required to change their behavior was information. Similar to imam Sarr, it is typically after prayer that he gathered with practitioners and explained the importance of keeping nature clean, not littering and planting trees. To Malik, these efforts are having a positive effect on the neighborhood. I can attest that the sand around his mosque is virtually trash free and trees are planted throughout the area. When I would walk even one block away, however, the setting

4 This and all subsequent quotations from imam Malik are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

109

becomes garbage strewn once more and the city remains largely devoid of much natural green flora. These two religious leaders have a similar interpretations of the anthropogenic nature of environmental problems and argue for the protection of the land using direct references to Islamic principles and scripture – particularly in establishing humanities duties to God and the expectations of good practitioners, which was then related to environmental obligations reflecting Fazlun Khalid’s interpretation of khalifa.

The scope of their understandings and solutions appeared to be significantly different, however. Imam Sarr stood out from many of my interlocutors in his knowledge of environmental issues on local, national and even international levels. He punctuated his scientific understandings of these problems such as soil fertility, flooding, erosion and the need for green space with religious passages and anecdotes, which he believed demonstrated a consciousness of the environment as valuable and worthy of respect. Sarr asserted the need for citizens to voice their opinions, to force accountability and action within governmental bodies by voting for environmentally concerned officials and meeting with their representatives. In particular, he stressed the importance of developing recycling programs, greening neighborhoods, getting environmental impact studies and protecting marine environments, which he stressed because of the recent discovery of offshore gas and oil, the exploitation of which, he realized will likely have negative environmental impacts. Imam Sarr’s background in government also complemented his broad secular and religious education. In contrast, imam Malik always described environmental degradation in reference to Islamic beliefs and teachings and commented only on local and visually apparent environmental problems such as litter, the cutting of nearby trees or the sale of Guédiawaye’s beach sand. He also relied on fairly general and

110

vague assertions that the environment was critical for human survival. Both imams painted ecological problems as human-caused and their solutions as our responsibility, however, Malik’s message extolled environmental protection as a duty toward God whereas Sarr stressed environmental protection as a social justice and religious issue.

Both of these imams identified as Murid and although this affiliation came through in their interviews— Malik in terms of the importance he placed on hard work and Sarr in terms of the inspiration for action that he draws from the revolutionary example of Bamba in his struggle against the French — they both centered their environmental philosophies and justifications for its protection within the textual tradition. Sarr, however, understood the scientific urgency of climate change and emphasized the importance of framing environmental issues within the Senegalese culture when he discussed traditional medicine. He explicitly stated that such examples were important in creating a true environmental consciousness within his community because they connected to a culture and history that people could relate to. In our interviews and in Senegalese news articles Imam Sarr also frequently highlighted the importance of his fishermen roots and the way he described his early morning routine of fishing and Qur’anic study seemed to imply a connection between his family’s cultural tradition, nature, and Islam. Beyond these links to Senegalese cultural identity, neither of the imams revealed a strong link to local cultural practices or ideologies; they leaned more heavily on the Islamic traditions, whilst imam Sarr also drew from scientifically based information, to spread a green consciousness in their communities.

In my conversations with these religious leaders it was notable that both spoke of their environmental concern and efforts within their communities in very abstract terms.

111

While both spent time justifying the need for environmental action neither went into detail on exactly how to fix these problems. It appeared that, for the most part, discourse and education were their main tools in spreading an environmental consciousness although Imam Sarr has used his platform to call politicians to the cause and addressed parliament directly demanding more aggressive anti-pollution measures (see: “Senegalese

Imam declares ‘Green Jihad’ to protect environment” 2015). Although Sarr, through his association of imams and engagement with political powers, appears to take more direct action than Malik it seems clear that the role both these imams have carved out for themselves is one of religious guidance rather than concrete solution making.

The Artists

While imams and other institutional religious figures such as Youssoupha Sarr and Malik represent scholarly religious authority, art is another medium where moral issues are addressed and negotiated. Within Senegal, Dakar is particularly saturated with creative expressions which frequently reference or connect to Islam and perhaps most commonly Muridism. Linguist Fiona McLaughlin averred “The city of Dakar is a visual and verbal testament to the pervasive influence of Islam on Senegalese popular culture”

(McLaughlin 1997, 560). Similarly anthropologist Beth A. Buggenhagen asserted that in in the city, “one is struck by the prominence of Muslim themes in urban expressive forms such as public murals and graffiti that have transformed secular spaces and places of work and in popular religious music heard in shops and on public transportation”

(Buggenhagen, 2013, 52). One only has to stroll through the streets of Dakar to get a sense for the beliefs and concerns of its residents. I was surprised to find during my most recent visit in 2018 that I encountered environmental messages mixed in with the other street art. From subtle paintings incorporating religious imagery with natural scenes— for

112

example disembodied hands rising out of a waterfall holding a dripping Qur’an—to clear spray-painted statements such as “jappal sa monde”(hold on to your world), “volontaire vert” (green volunteer) or even “interdit de jeter des ordures” (forbidden to throw garbage).

Moving beyond the visible cityscape, there are artists working within a variety of different media on environmental issues. Garth Myers in his volume Urban Environments in Africa explored political ecology within the African city. Regarding Dakar, he expanded the concept of ecocriticism: an interdisciplinary study of environmental commentary through literature, arguing that it can encompass other forms such as music and visual art. He asserted that artistic expressions have an ability to both criticize and reimagine urban landscapes. Myers highlighted an ecological artistic collective,

Africulturban, as a nationally known hub for local organizing. Their rap-activists were influential during the 2012 election and brought the lack of environmental services in

Dakar into political discourse (Myers 2016, 135). Myers also referenced a non-profit community arts center, Guédiawaye Hip Hop or G Hip Hop, which offered support and resources for youth focusing on promoting artistic expression and environmentalism.

G Hip Hop was born in 2010 when a local vocal artist Serigne Zou invited his former rival Fou Malade to conceptualize and repurpose the rap scene in Guédiawaye to promote positivity and participate in the development process through their music. The center was built in 2013 through donations from the French-based NGO, Effage Senegal, and is embraced as a nexus of positive change for the Wakhinane neighborhood. The center consists of buildings situated around a large sandy courtyard planted with small trees and flowing bushes, one side of which is taken up by a massive stage. The entire

113

compound is covered in artful graffiti and paintings of inspirational figures such as Che

Guevara, Bob Marley and of course Senegal’s own Akon. These secular icons stand next to those of religious figures such as Cheikh Ibrahima Fall and messages such as “grow the future”.

Paco aka Paco Pat Ghetto, whom I met at a documentary screening that will be discussed in the next section and who introduced me to Imam Malik, serves as G Hip

Hop’s secretary general and has been involved with the organization from the beginning.

He cited the value of community care within his military family as well as the Murid ethos as pushing him toward civic engagement. He participated in a variety of organizations and actions to benefit the Guédiawaye community but found rap to be a particularly potent channel through which to promote change. Paco described rap simply as a way to spread positive messages. He also stressed, however, the importance of the appeal of this medium to the youth and the power of G Hip Hop’s “street credibility to be able to galvanize and mobilize people in a very effective way”. He asserted, “we use hip- hop as a tool of emancipation, for the source of transformation” (Paco 07/09/18)5. G Hip

Hop also uses other mediums to promote environmental protection and social development including visual art, dance, political rallies, and community symposiums.

During Ramadan 2018 the organization held a series of talks in which they invited local religious leaders to speak about the importance of environmental protection, including the imam of the grand mosque of Guédiawaye.

5 This and all subsequent quotations from Paco are taken from an interview that was conducted in English, with no translation necessary.

114

G Hip Hop has a special youth group within their organization called the “Green

Volunteers” who participate in a range of activities to better their neighborhood. Regular set/setal cleanups are an important aspect of the green volunteers— one community member praised the organization describing how certain streets were previously impassible because the accumulation of waste but were now clear. Paco’s rap crew expressed the importance of set/setal in the song: “Represent Wakhinane Nioko moom” which states,

Pour donner á Wakhinane un nouveau visage To give Wakhinane a new face Engageons nous ensemble Let's get together L’appropriation du bien commun nous concerne tous Ownership of the common good concerns us all Les générations futures doivent le comprendre Future generations must understand it 6

The music video of this song showed community members of all ages collecting trash and cleaning the streets. Members of the rap crew wore western and Senegalese style clothing — with one member porting the type of white boubou normally worn on Friday to the juma prayer— suggesting ways to clean up and protect their local environment, and inviting listeners to work together for the sake of their health and that of their children.

Because trash, even when collected, poses environmental threats, the green volunteers have also devised ways to reuse the waste productively. Plastic waste is sorted out and encased within the concrete to create benches, tables, and walls that can be seen throughout Guédiawaye. G Hip Hop has built parks and even gardens that they furnish

6 The Wolof lyrics from “Represent Wakhinane Nioko Moom” by Paco Pat Ghetto were transcribed from the French subtitles and translated into English.

115

with these recycled structures. The organic waste is put into compost piles within the gardens and used to grow pesticide-free produce which the green volunteers can take home and the garden managers can sell at reasonable prices.

A B

Figure 4-1. Images from G Hip Hop A) Graffiti from a garden that includes the text “ya salam” or peace in Arabic B) The garden that Omar manages with the words “set” meaning “clean” spray-painted on the wall, C) The courtyard of G Hip Hop

Omar is a Baye Fall who is in charge of one of the four community gardens. In the wash of tan dusty streets, the long fenced-in plot truly looks like an oasis in the city.

Vivid green rows of lettuce, peppers, mint, and other plants run along its length, the wall that created one border of the garden was spray-painted with the words “set” and a few towering banana trees provided shade where the workers could rest. Omar had long dreadlocks and only one hand, which did not seem to slow him down as he worked. He

116

explained that after being trained as an accountant, he, like many young men in Dakar, could not find employment and so he went to live with his marabout Serigne Modou Kara

Mbacké— a religious guide of celebrity status who appears regularly on television and radio and who is known for his creation of hundreds of agricultural fields. After this, he became involved with G Hip Hop and has fully committed himself to agricultural work.

He asserted “the rest of my life I will spend it on the earth. The rest of my life I do not need to work for someone in an office or company. For the rest of my life, it's the land and the trees” (Omar 07/09/18). Omar cited his Baye Fall spirituality as an important source of inspiration for his gardening. He explained that Baye Fall were initiated to work with the land and he stressed that their true payment for this labor would come from

God. Although Omar had a very calm demeanor he spoke passionately about the importance of gardening and the work of G Hip Hop, stating that they were asking for help from the government but that, “we are ready to sacrifice ourselves for our environment” (Omar 07/09/18)7.

Paco noted that his organization attracted a lot of Baye Fall, which he attributed to their ethos of hard work and social justice. Although he emphasized that the NGO was made up of people of different faiths he also cited his religious beliefs and background as an important aspect of his activism. He asserted that good leaders have three qualities: patience, knowledge, and morals, and for him, his morality is based on religion. Paco explained that for Murids serving other people was the highest degree of spirituality and that was expressed through his actions and his music.

7 This and all subsequent quotations from Omar are taken from an interview that was conducted in French and small amounts of Wolof, which I translated into English.

117

The hip-hop we doing is just called hip-hop for change. The hip-hop we doing is just representing the marginalized members of the community, advocating for social justice in this country. The hip-hop we doing is the hip-hop that pushes practitioners to go green. The hip-hop that we doing is the hip-hop that just uplifts other people who do not have the possibility to go for work…and we call it real hip-hop (Paco 07/09/18).

Paco expressed that it was the Murid ethos that drove him in his work with G Hip Hop — it endowed him with his convictions to care for his community and the earth.

The artist known as Doulsy also expresses environmental concern through his creations but does so with his sewing machine. Doulsy’s residence stands out in the suburb of Ouakam cross from the shutdown, Les Petites Pierres artist collective. His home has a large plot of cleared land that is dotted with sculptures made either from naturally twisted wood or from contorted car tires. Further to the side the earth has been turned and arranged for planting. Stepping inside his home is like leaving Dakar, the floor was lined with straw mats and plants edged the rooms. The space was cluttered with religious and “traditional” looking items but meticulously arranged into a beautiful aesthetic. The back wall of the house was open from midway up aside from a screen and some decorative window guards. The door was also left wide open revealing a dripping wet tropical garden complete with a palm-frond hut. Against one wall there was what appeared to be an altar— pieces of wood bark were fashioned around a mirror, tucked into which were pictures of Cheikh Amadou Bamba and Qur’anic verse. Plants, a green and red lantern, and a headpiece with horns was placed in front and a dried crocodile skin complete with the head was laid in front of that. Finally, a wooden bowl and stand filled with small items sat before the whole scene. A friendly dog and an attention-seeking cat occupied the living room and chickens and ducks the backyard.

118

Doulsy himself had all of the typical Baye Fall features but he wore them with effortless style. What must have been a massive head of dreadlocks was wrapped securely in a thick black cloth that hung down his back, dense bunches of kurus (prayer beads) hung at different lengths around his neck and his black boubou was shot through with bright panels of the ndjaxass patchwork wax. Although a fashion designer, Doulsy’s stylish execution of the Baye Fall aesthetic was truly meaningful to him. The ndjaxass pattern is deeply symbolic and he has taken the idea of making clothes from recycled fabrics and expanded it. He sewed patchwork out of jeans, repurposing discarded pieces of cars into costumes — giving life to what most people would consider garbage, creating fashion while reducing waste.

Figure 4-2. Photo from the “Prophecy” project which depicts Mbeubeuss, also known as “trash mountain” with one of Fabrice Monteiro and Doulsy’s jin figures. Photo used with the permission of Doulsy.

119

Despite his slightly hermit-like nature, Doulsy is increasingly well known in

Senegal. He is perhaps most famous internationally, however, for a project he worked on with Belgian-born photographer of Beninese heritage Fabrice Monteiro. The Prophecy

Project sought to highlight environmental problems in Senegal and served as a warning for the future. Each photo powerfully depicted a different landscape and ecological issue with figures inspired by distinctively West African jin, human-like beings made of fire in

Islamic belief. The two artists worked as a team, Doulsy could create the sculptural clothing to complete Fabrice’s vision and Fabrice brought with him funding from

Ecofund and gave Doulsy a platform not available to most Dakarois designers. This project reflected Doulsy’s personal aesthetic that combines the synthetic with the traditional and organic to reflect on the unnatural synthesis of both that characterizes our modern world and creates conflict within in it. He stated, “what makes me live is to work on nature, all that is ecological— it animates me” (Doulsy, 06/27/18)8. In other projects,

Doulsy has mixed electronics with traditional clothing from Senegal’s different ethnic groups, created statements critiquing nuclear power and incorporated African masks with recycled materials to make fascinating figures. All of these projects speak to an ecological message which views the degradation of the environment as connected to a loss of culture.

Doulsy explained that becoming wealthy, famous or creating commercial clothing has never been his goal. He sells his brand “Jah Gal” in Europe to make just enough money to keep creating his larger spectacles. The rest of his pieces are given away, a

8 This and all subsequent quotations from Doulsy are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

120

choice that he connects to his Baye Fall tradition. To Doulsy, his religious and his

African identity are both crucial to his work and lifestyle. Not only does his Baye Fall ethos tie him to God, the land, and keep him from being caught up in materialism, it also puts him in a marginal position within Senegalese society. Interestingly, Doulsy does not view this as restricting but instead liberating. He explained that when he goes around the neighborhood putting out trash cans, picking up plastic, creating his art, and gardening in his yard people do not question his behavior because he is Baye Fall and assume this kind of “craziness” from his suborder. If other people tried to do these things, he asserted, they might be challenged or chided but he was allowed these culturally unusual activities without a second glance.

Doulsy, more than any other interlocutor, was also willing to discuss his

“African” culture. He explained that before his Baye Fall initiation in the sacred wood he was Muslim but he grew up in a Fulani village immersed in its traditions. He asserted,

“Before religion we had beliefs and our beliefs here are nature” (Doulsy, 06/27/18). It is through his African culture that Doulsy understands the plastic and synthetic to be harmful, claiming that these things are spiritually incompatible with what his elders taught him. He described how traditional healers knew how to talk to plants, feel the suffering of trees, and cure illnesses using these skills. He asserted that the true African intellectual does not need books but instead understands what surrounds him. He conceded that there are now many people who did not have this education and later added, “I'm an artist to this generation. I see that the world is almost lost” (Doulsy,

06/27/18). At the end of my visit, Doulsy punctuated one more time the uniqueness of his vision of Senegalese Islam,

121

You know my grandmother said to me: the true religion it's Islam but you know we are African. The ‘but’— that is what causes me to pause and reflect….we have another education before the Muslim education. So here we are a people who absorbs, we have absorbed religion, the reality of things ... so I am a Muslim, it's a bit heavy, but I'm a Muslim but I'm an African Muslim (Doulsy, 06/27/18).

In this statement, Doulsy makes clear the dual nature of his identity and even admits the difficulty and perhaps conflict of being Muslim when the foundations of his person are connected to the long tradition of his ethnic group.

A B

Figure 4-3. Artwork from Doulsy A) Doulsy contrasts technology with the clothing of the Pular ethnic group to create a commentary on the ways modernity is affecting Senegalese culture. Photo used with the permission of Doulsy, B) Figure created with old bike tires and a “traditional” mask outside of Doulsy’s home

Doulsy and the G Hip Hop organization are but two voices within the eco-artistic milieu that incorporate or are fueled by religion as they strive to repair the issues created in the ever-expanding city of Dakar. According to Myers “…artists and activists have been inseparable throughout Africa’s contemporary urban history, and the crucial role of spectacular art/activism in provoking revolutionary thought… activist artists and writers are challenging the received wisdom about urban environments in Africa, as they have

122

been for at least a century” (Myers 2016). In the examples explored here this appears to hold true, these creative expressions highlight and push the envelope adding unique and important voices to inspire change. More study would be needed, however, to survey art- activism in Dakar more generally.

All three of my main interviewees in this section operated within the Murid order, which influenced and drove their work in different ways. Paco was inspired by the tariqa’s unique emphasis on service, hard work and the Islamic value of cleanliness and purity, which he channeled through his rap and work with his NGO and specifically the

Green Volunteers. Interestingly, two of my contacts were Baye Fall, although they were not selected for this affiliation. Omar became interested and involved with agriculture through the example and teachings of his marabout and spiritual connection with the land he worked daily. Doulsy builds on the Baye Fall clothing tradition of ndjaxass, which is meant to symbolize humility and deemphasize materiality to create commentaries on the destructive nature of modern society, and in particular waste.

Unlike the other two, Doulsy also acknowledged the sometimes harmonious and sometimes conflicting relationship between Islamic religion and his African cultural beliefs. This indigenous education endowed nature with a sacrality that is embedded in his identity. It was also notable that although scientific understandings were present on a very basic level, e.g. knowledge of climate change or consequences of cutting down trees, it was the Baye Fall that expressed the value of protecting natural entities themselves, not only in ways that benefited humans. Paco was primarily concerned with cleaning up trash within his neighborhood and referenced the ugliness of litter and the health problems that accompany it. Contrastingly, both Doulsy and Omar worked the

123

land on a daily basis although the value they placed on it was general and their solutions were vague. Omar expressed that he was willing to sacrifice himself for the environment, not only for his community. Doulsy described the natural world as animated, vibrating and communicating for those who knew how to listen and spoke of his work in terms of ecological systems and protection.

The Politicians

Although many Senegalese organizations and individuals fighting for environmental protection have spoken of the inadequacies or inefficiencies of the political sphere, there is notable work being done by politicians that merits examination.

The Ecologist Party of Senegal or green party was created in July 1992 and officially recognized as Senegal's eighteenth political party by the Ministry of the Interior in

December of the same year (Gérard 1994). The party has remained largely a small group of intellectuals and, like many other nations, it has never gained a significant number of votes.

Pape Meissa is the president of the Senegalese Ecologist Party, was General

Secretary of African Green Federation or FEVA, member of Global Green Coordination, holds a Ph.D. in environmental law, university professor of 25 years, and is a self- described environmental activist. He attributed his development into this powerhouse ecologist to a background as a boy scout, his education in various African nations including the densely vegetated country of Cameroon, and his experiences studying in

Strasbourg which introduced him to German ecological philosophy.

124

Pape was quick to claim the importance of Islam in his ecological work stating, “I am Muslim and Islam is a deeply ecological religion” (Pape Meissa, 06/03/18)9. He asserted that within the Muslim faith everything is in harmony with the rest of creation.

Pape argued that their practices were synced with the rhythms of nature through the five daily prayers. He also contended that proper religious behavior respects the natural world, providing the example of Arafat day during which pilgrims are not to kill any creature.

To Pape, “Islam recognizes the sacredness of all life forms” (Pape Meissa, 06/03/18). He asserted that the value of life within the religion and the importance of balance implied that Muslims should be vegetarian. He lives out this value and lifestyle choice although it is fairly unusual in the Muslim world and virtually unheard of in Senegal. Although this is not a common interpretation of Islamic dietary restrictions, it is not completely unprecedented. B.A. Masri a prolific Muslim scholar and animal rights activist has argued that the consumption of meat is unnecessary and the act of killing is un-Islamic.

Similarly Turkish Sufi master Bediüzzaman Said Nursi asserted that animals were ensouled and that destroying any part of nature was destroying ayat or the signs of

Allah— both these figures have long practiced and promoted vegetarianism (Foltz 2006).

Although Pape is Tijani and not Murid, his grandmother was a Yaay Fall or female Baye Fall and was apparently close to Cheikh Ibra Fall. He expressed affinity with a teaching of a Baye Fall order that holds the vulture in high regard. He explained that the scavenger is viewed as virtuous because it does not kill. Instead, they eat the flesh of already dead animals— allowing God to take the life. The vulture also does not take

9 This and all subsequent quotations from Pape Meissa are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

125

more than its share of meat but only what it needs leaving the rest for others. Because of this, they are viewed as models of patience, discipline, and solidarity— all qualities highly valued by the Baye Fall. Concluding this anecdote Pape stated, “The animals of the world— nature speaks, trees communicate. The language of nature is in a way a religious language. Respect for all forms of life, respect for humanity, ecology, and the environment —religion teaches only that” (Pape Meissa, 06/03/18).

It is clear that Pape has a strong religious foundation that connects to his ecological consciousness on a personal level. Within his political life, in the green party and FEVA, he asserted that there is not too much interaction with Islam and religious leaders although there have been a few attempts to link these two spheres. On one occasion, FEVA organized what they called “les académies vertes” (the green academies) in which they created a program on ecological spirituality. They invited religious families, both Muslim and Christian but unfortunately not many came. Regardless, Pape believes the ideology of political ecology is “close” to religious practices and asserted that in Senegal people were interested in learning more about green spirituality and integrating the two.

The world of environmental protection and politics is still forming and growing in

Dakar and Senegal but one man is known throughout the country for his instrumental role in defending the land and spreading ecological consciousness. Haidar el Ali is Senegalese of Lebanese descent. This pairing might seem unusual but in fact, Dakar is home to a community of Lebanese/Senegalese due to various waves of migration beginning as early as the 1880s and reaching its height during the 1920s. Interestingly many of these immigrants arrived in West Africa with hopes of continuing on to the Americas but either

126

became stranded for financial reasons or found work and chose to settle (Leichtman

2015)—Haidar’s family falls into the former category. As the story goes, young Haidar was comfortably working in his father’s furniture company when he had an epiphany and suddenly quit. A few years later he transitioned his career to ecology and environmental protection, became a diver in France and the director of the Oceanium— a diving school and NGO for the protection of Senegal’s oceans. He was appointed Minister of the

Environment from 2012-2014 and after he served as the Minister of the Fisheries. He was also the president of the Ecologists Party and has more recently taken up residence in the southern Casamance region to head a mangrove reforestation project.

To Haidar, love for ecology and the natural world is an intuitive feeling. He described a bike trip he attempted throughout Senegal at age 15 and asserted that when he was in nature he experienced a sense of timelessness— a feeling many have used to characterize experience with the sacred. He portrayed this sensation as something immeasurable. Haidar also averred that his work educating people about the suffering and exploitation of the natural world was a “deep need”. Haidar’s father was a profoundly pious Muslim but despite this religious upbringing, Haidar does not identify as a practitioner. Although he does not follow the religion of his family Haidar has found that his work serves a similar purpose,

The faith that my father had, from time to time I wonder if I am not the same thing but with the environment. I note that we have reached a threshold of degradation of our resources which makes it, to my mind, more urgent to plant a tree than to go to pray in a mosque or in a church and it is more right for God if one is Muslim, Christian, Jewish or animist,

127

it is more urgent for God that one deals with the planet. But I believe in God ... (Haidar 07/12/18)10

In this rumination, Haidar does not denounce his faith in God but instead frames his environmentalism as an act of piety. As defined by Bron Taylor, this assertion suggests the Haidar falls within the category of “green religion” or the belief that environmentally friendly behavior is a religious obligation (Taylor 2010, 10).

A closer look at the figure of Haidar El Ali shows an even more complicated spirituality, however. The documentary film Haidar: L’homme qui Plante des Arbres

(Haidar: the man that plants trees) was directed by Dominique Hennequin and followed

Haidar during his ongoing mangrove reforestation project and through his striving for local election11. The film was premiered in Dakar on June 29th, 2018 during which I was present.

The film opens with the Senegalese/Lebanese ecologist taking his children to a stately old tree. He tells them to touch and greet the tree and explained to them “I want to show you how to protect my family” he then encouraged his son to pour the contents of a box of wine onto the roots of the tree softly saying, “the tree is thirsty” (Hennequin

2017). Later in the film, he meets with a traditional local religious leader affectionately referred to as “the king of kings” from whom he requests a blessing in an upcoming local election. In this interaction it is revealed that this religious leader is known for his ability to speak the “language of nature”. The documentary also shows Haidar visiting a woman in the forest who he describes as a “guardian of the trees”. He stresses the importance of

10 This and all subsequent quotations from Haidar el Ali are taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

11 The film does not cover the details of the election.

128

supporting those who find the woods to be sacred and who protect “this law”. Haidar sat with the woman as she chanted, performing an unexplained ceremony with a gourd at the base of a tree (Hennequin 2017). The glimpses into Haidar’s life and faith that this documentary provides suggest that he has an affinity with the local religions he encounters in the Casamance region (For some explorations of such traditions see Baum

1999), which give spiritual importance to the forests and the ecosystems in which they practice. In these interactions, Haidar displays a reverence and respect for the natural world that seems to go beyond green religion and may more be more appropriately described as “dark green religion” which “considers nature to be sacred, imbued with intrinsic value, and worthy of reference care” (Taylor 2010, ix).

Haidar views the root of the environmental crisis as residing in the consumerist and materialist culture in which he himself feels trapped. He cited the capitalist model of constant growth as facilitating the abuse of the planet’s riches. He contended that education was the most important tool for ecological protection and it seems he has made this central to his eco-political endeavors. When I asked him about the role of religious leaders in the struggle against environmental degradation he responded, “there is always a place for everyone, for all those who want to do well. The problem is to define what is right” (Haidar 07/12/18). He asserted that, like everyone else, religious leaders must have a proper ecological education. More often, he explained, the problem is that imams and marabouts are based in religious systems that promise paradise, diverting their focus from the degradation of the environment in the here and now. This perspective echoes findings from the social scientific study by Taylor, Van Wieren, and Zaleha which surveyed and analyzed a vast trove of work on the “greening of religion” and found that the idea of an

129

omnipotent God often took power out of humans hands and actually detracted from environmental consciousness and action (Taylor et al. 2016a). Haidar revealed his own ecocentrism, another core element of Taylor’s Dark Green Religion, when he when he condemned the appraisal of natural entities, such as fishes and forests, based on their connection to the divine instead of for their intrinsic value. “God I think has given us a very beautiful planet, so it's up to us to preserve it” (Haidar 07/12/18). Although Haidar did not give me specifics, an employee at the Oceanium explained that the NGO has encountered more resistance and friction with local Muslim leaders than positive collaboration— she gave the example of one case in which a marabout used his religious influence against their reforestation project in the Casamance. Another Oceanium employee told me back in 2011 that in terms of their environmental work “religion is not a brake and I will not say it's an engine” (Oceanium employee, 12/13/11)12.

At the end of our interview, as Haidar prepared to rush off to his next obligation he stopped and looked at me. “Do you know what I have in my pocket?” he asked as he pulled out some seeds, “I take them with me everywhere”. He suddenly looked lighter and happier than he had throughout our conversation. He got up and showed me the flowers on the ground explaining that the birds ate them and expressing the importance of trees for the animals and the whole ecosystem. He said that nearly every day he goes out into the bush and takes seeds, “we kiss” he said as he planted a real kiss on the seed in his hand “to transmit the energy and we put the seed in the forest” (Haidar 07/12/18). And with that, he left.

12 This was taken from an interview that was conducted in French, which I translated into English.

130

As with the imams and the artists, the politicians explored in this chapter are the exception and not the rule in Dakar’s political milieu. However, both of these ecologists and activists were somewhat prominent within Senegalese society and held notable governmental positions. Unlike all of my other interviewees, neither of these politicians were Murid. Pape Meissa did, however, have a connection with the tariqa and specifically expressed affinity with Baye Fall teachings. Haidar and Pape did convey that their spirituality was an important aspect of their environmental convictions and both viewed their work as necessitated by their respective belief systems. In particular, Haidar believed preservation and reforestation to be religious acts that he compared to the faith of his Muslim father. The mixture of ecology with religious belief, the intrinsic value he placed on nature, as well as his affinity for traditional spiritualities which view nature as sacred that were expressed by Haidar resembled sentiments of important environmental champions within the American environmental movement such as John Muir and Aldo

Leopold. He also expressed an affinity with traditional religious belief, and a value of nature as sacred that can be found increasing all over the world and his environmental ethic was profoundly reminiscent of Taylor’s concept of dark green religion.

Despite the importance of their religious beliefs, both Pape and Haidar operated mainly within a secular sphere that separated their personal beliefs from their political work and activism. Both were well versed in scientific language and data and understood the natural world in terms of its ecosystemic importance. This ecological understanding offers the perspective that everything is interconnected and interdependent and so it was unsurprising that Pape and Haidar expressed a non-anthropocentric view. It was surprising, however, that the realm of environmental politics appeared relatively

131

uninvested or even resistant to collaborating with religious leaders when, as Leonardo

Villalon has argued, religious institutions in Senegal have become an important representative in the interests of civil society (Villalon 1995).

Within the Senegalese capital of Dakar, there are organizations, activists, artists, religious leaders and politicians who are invested in creating a cleaner and green Senegal.

Within this milieu, there is a great diversity and range of tactics and ethical approaches that hold Islamic religion as foundational to environmental protection. It is significant to note, however, that this diversity also means fragmentation. The imams took a primarily anthropocentric approach and operated mainly within their neighborhood community.

Imam Sarr, in particular, was critical of the government and its shortcomings regarding both environmental and social issues. Although G Hip Hop did create connections between youth, art and even religious leaders in the form of symposiums they were also highly critical and skeptical of the political sphere. At the same time, Haidar and Pape both commented on the difficulty of working with religious leaders in a productive way,

Haidar because he found many religious leaders to have problematic interpretations of environmental issues and Pape because his attempts at reaching out to religious families failed. Despite the creative and profound examples explored in this chapter, environmental protection efforts in Dakar do not resemble a coherent movement. The tensions and inconsistencies in theoretical and logistical approaches of existing efforts seem to limit the potential of Islam and ecology in the urban context.

132

CHAPTER 5 WEAPONS OF SCIENCE AND PIETY

As my return flight back to Florida loomed, my schedule became unmanageable and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of panic. Every day I found someone new I wanted to interview, an organization I wanted to observe, and a lead I wanted to pursue. The more I explored the environmental scene in Senegal the more layers and connections I discovered. From this brief stint of research, it seems clear that there is a fascinating diversity of ways in which Muslim and Islamic environmentalists (whether they identify this way or not) are engaging with the issues, local and global, that are affecting their lives and ecosystems.

Through my research, I identified a number of patterns that bridged the rural and urban areas I explored as well as distinct differences between them. In particular, the rural examples of Ndem and Mbacké Kadior offered a more holistic model in which a duty and respect for the environment, the need to address desertification and the rural exodus, the need for a healthy environment and healthy living, and the need to live in a way spiritually coherent with these ecological values were wrapped together and centered around the figure of Serigne Babacar Mbow. The entire community, as well as some of the surrounding villages, were invested and participated in the wide variety of projects and lifestyle choices that were associated with these concerns and ideals. Moving into the urban setting of Dakar this unified front gave way to a more diversified and spread-out approach to environmental problems. The imams addressed the moral aspects of their communities; the artists communicated their concerns through creative expressions; and the politicians approached environmental issues from a more legal and secular position.

Although the passion and creativity of the Dakarois I studied were clear, the

133

disconnection between these spheres contrast with the rural example. The urban case appears hindered by its fragmentation in terms of creating a more widespread impact.

The communities of Serigne bi and the eco-village network of Ousmane Pame seemed to be slowly growing holistic solutions to create new forms of dignity in the village and sustainable relationships with the environment. On the other hand, the urban examples were more compartmentalized and in some cases conflicted. The imams, particularly Youssoufa Sarr, critiqued and offered an alternative to governmental policy through his call to action. At the same time, green politicians Haidar el Ali and Pape

Meissa both noted that working with religious leaders could be challenging or even limiting. My conversations with Haidar and employees at the Oceanium NGO illustrated that religious leaders often deprioritized environmental issues because of their beliefs, which did not support or even clashed with ecological ideas and in some cases challenged

Haidar’s projects. Pape encountered a lack of interest when he attempted to incorporate religious leaders into his Green Academy project.

Examples such as these demonstrate that although there are eco-exceptions, mainstream Islam in Senegal often falls into the traps Lynn White highlighted within the

Abrahamic faiths. For instance many Senegalese religious leaders were found to promote strong anthropocentric attitudes, which has been argued by a variety of scholars to facilitate environmental destruction by either limiting participation in environmental action or encouraging a worldview that actively interferes with ecological work. The experience of Haidar and Pape seem to agree with the findings of Bron Taylor and his colleagues in “The Greening of Religion Hypothesis: Part Two” —that religion can stand

134

in the way of productive environmental concern or obscure scientific understandings and ultimately hinder pro-environmental behavior.

Another notable difference between the urban and rural cases related to gender dynamics. A benefit of the holistic eco-village model is that the entire village participates, men and women alike. The villages of Mbacké Kadior and in particular

Ndem (because of the way in which Sergine B split the communities) were composed of families along with single disciples. By and large, work was divided along gender lines in the villages— women would maintain their households, water the plants, and cook while the men participated more in the physical labor. There was also higher literacy among the men, however, the village was actively emphasizing female literacy as well as encouraging higher education in general. The women who grew up in the village, such as

Aisha, had a strong scholastic background. Further, on “work party days” when groups came from outside the community to aid with a project, the women often labored alongside the men. Finally, there were notable numbers of women who held prominent positions in the village. Austrian disciple Berta was highly respected for her agricultural knowledge, dedication, and had Serigne bi’s ear; Fatou had worn many hats over the long period she had lived in Ndem including administrator and teacher; Serigne bi’s daughter was the president of the youth program Eco-Jeune; Diarra the disciple from Dakar was highly educated and reportedly edited Serigne bi’s writing from time to time; and of course Sokhna Aisha was viewed as more than Serigne bi’s wife but as his partner and the organizational mastermind of their mutual endeavors, whose spiritual knowledge and guidance was also highly sought and respected.

135

This was contrasted with my encounters in Dakar, in which I found virtually no women in prominent positions. Although my research was limited by time and scope it is significant that none of my interlocutors in the city were female (with the exception of

Diarra who was associated with the rural community). Within the large compound of G

Hip Hop I encountered very few women, and although I was told that women’s issues were a concern and that a woman initiated the garden program, it was clear that there was a gender divide. Based on the kinds of groups I was investigating in Dakar, however, it was not altogether surprising that I did not encounter a greater gender balance – positions of power, such as religious leadership and politics are typically male-dominated in this region. The lack of women involved in environmental projects in Dakar points to the benefits of the holistic or communal approach that the eco-villages support.

In the realm of gender, there was one issue that was either ignored or dismissed in both the urban and rural context – that of population growth and control. When population was discussed, which happened only relatively rarely, it was portrayed as a distributional problem as opposed to understanding Senegal’s growing numbers as a problem in itself with many negative consequences. Despite the roughly 2.39% population growth rate (The World Factbook: Senegal 2018) it seemed to be the general opinion that Senegal’s major issues stemmed from urbanization and not the population growth itself. Such conclusions fly in the face of reports by scholars in a range of disciplines that illustrate overpopulation as a decisive driver in the environmental crisis

(See: Cafaro and Crist. 2012). According to Project Drawdown, a climate change solution research group led by Paul Hawken, family planning is the seventh most important step that can be taken to alleviate the effects of the ecological crisis because of its impact on

136

population. They reported, “two hundred and twenty-five million women in the lower income countries say they want the ability to choose whether and when to become pregnant but lack the necessary access to contraception– resulting in some 74 million unintended pregnancies each year” (Hawken 2017, 78). This affects the quality of life of the women and children, increases greenhouse gas emissions, demand for resources and goods, and, as a consequence, results in more pollution and waste.

The importance of family planning goes hand-in-hand with the education of girls which Project Drawdown cites as the sixth most important solution to our climate problems (Hawken 2017, 78). When these two factors are taken together, Hawken and his colleagues have concluded, the empowerment of women is one of the most effective ways of combatting climate change. The dismissal of population dynamics as an important driver of negative environmental change shows a significant gap in the environmental consciousness of even the most scientifically-minded of my interlocutors.

This framing of population-related problems as a population distribution issue and the resistance to ideas of population control are likely connected to the historical value placed on large families in Senegalese culture. This emphasis on pro-natalism may be related to the benefits of large families for agricultural work as well as the history of high child mortality rates in the nation, which have only recently started to fall. In 1967 there was an average of 298 deaths of infants under the age of five per 1,000 live births, which dropped to 47.1 deaths in 2016 (Senegal Child Mortality Rate). Another possible explanation could be related to the belief that environmental problems are not truly about population but instead the use of resources and issues of power. President of the Global

Ecovillage Network Africa Ousmane Pame contended that the global 1% is using 90% or

137

more of the world’s resources (Pame, 05/30/18). Research associate for the Centre for

Muslim States and Societies Katrina Riddell has argued that revivalist movements have created sensitivity to ideas and policies which are viewed as being imposed on the

Muslim world by globalization or the West. This perceived encroachment cultivates a sense of competition over authority and control. Riddell asserted, “Women, the family, sexual norms and family planning became potent symbols in the politics of distinction played out in the Muslim world” (Riddell 2009, 65). Such ideas might have resonance in

Senegal, particularly with their colonial history. The cultural value placed on large families along with anxieties over the imposition of population control from the West seem plausible explanations for this blind spot in environmental discourse in Senegal.

Additional research is needed, however, to explore more thoroughly these important issues of gender and pro-natalist attitudes.1

Overall, these examples seem to point to the merits of a holistic approach. Despite their differences, there were also many common points of comparison in urban and rural cases. The most obvious of which was the Murid form of Islam that informed and influenced the environmental actions and concerns of nearly all the groups and individuals in this study.

1 Notably, I have excluded a discussion of Islam’s role in this dismissal of population concerns in Senegal because it is too complex to fully address here, and, in my opinion, not as relevant as other factors. There is a significant president for the permissibility of family planning and even abortion within textual interpretations of the Islamic texts, mainly in the hadith. Forms of birth control are addressed and often accepted to different degrees in the jurisprudential schools of thought, although the reality on the ground changes depending on individual scholars and varies from country to country. For more on this topic see: Musallam 1983; Roudi-Fahimi 2004; Riddell 2016.

138

Muridism

In A Saint in the City: Sufi Arts of Urban Senegal, Allen F. and Mary Nooter

Roberts argued with regard to the prominence and influence of Senegal’s Murid Sufi order,

Muridism is one of the most distinctive aspects of contemporary Senegalese social life. Indeed, it would be impossible to understand … the republic’s ‘brisk and vigorous democracy’… without fully appreciating this, its most economically and politically influential Islamic movement. Muridism links all secular and sacred activities (Roberts 2006, 24)

Although this statement and the book that contains it could be seen as overzealous and simplistic in its view of the complex religious sphere of Senegal, it does speak to the perceived centrality of the tariqa. Sufi orders in general but the Muridiyya in particular are tightly knit, economically powerful, and have been (although perhaps decreasingly so) politically influential. The work of political scientist Leonardo Villalon pointed to the important role of the religious sphere and specifically the “maraboutic organizations” to represent popular needs and anxieties which sometimes push back or counterbalance the actions of the state in Senegal. He contended that these religious organizations are formidable and effective in representing civil society because they are already set up as a connective network that can communicate, organize and amass their members in considerable numbers. They also have private economic resources that are independent of the state and Villalon highlighted the Muridiyya’s agricultural base from which they have evolved and built, as a model of this financial power and autonomy (Villalon 1995, 260).

Lynn White asserted in his famous thesis “What people do about their ecology' depends on what they think about themselves in relation to things around them. Human ecology is deeply conditioned by beliefs about our nature and destiny—that is, by religion” (White 1967, 1205). In Senegal, religious affiliation is an important part of

139

identity and has been highly influential over actions in many different spheres. Among my informants, there was a common belief that religious leaders and structures could motivate action in a way that politicians and legal channels could not. Paco, for example, expressed that people normally listen to religious leaders because they trust them and there is a feeling that they represent the people in a way that he described as “grassroots”.

At the same time, there is a general distrust of the legal system which is often associated with corruption. Sokhna Aisha enforced this idea when averring, “spiritual guides, they have a much stronger impact on the village than the politicians, we know they talk a lot but do not do much” (Sokhna Aisha, 06/03/18).

In their article, “Diaspora, Faith, and Science: Building a Murid Hospital in

Senegal” Ellen E Foley and Cheikh Anta Babou examined the financial networks connected to Murid diaspora movements; they noted a difference between secular and

Islamic NGOs. They used the example of the construction of a Murid hospital to argue

“Without the motivation of religious piety or a sense of allegiance to a collective spiritual project, most migrants use their remittances for family welfare and expect the state to provide for basic needs and infrastructure” (Foley, Babou 2010, 92).

The sentiments of Paco and Sokhna Aisha, combined with the example provided by Foley and Babou, support my own finding herein that that religion, in this case

Muridism, is a significant motivator, which not only influences environmental concern but, as White asserted, what people actually do. This can be seen in the hard labor of the

Baye Fall of Ndem and Mbacké Kadior, which is executed abstractly for a cause but in direct response to the leadership of Serigne bi. It is also demonstrated in the conviction of

140

Pape Meissa when he gave Islamic principles as the motivation behind his vegetarianism, despite its contradiction of Senegalese social norms.

Conversely, the strength of religion as a motivator is not solely ecological. As we saw in the case of Serigne bi’s disciple who threw her soda can out of the window and through the increased litter and decreased activity in Ndem. Such examples suggested that these behaviors could be connected to a “panopticon” or “big gods” effect, which indicated that religious practitioners might be, in some cases, overly dependent on religious authority as a motivator to inspire or police their pro-environmental behavior.

From the start, my research focused on the Murid order partially because of the larger body of extant literature on the tariqa, and partially due to the affiliation of my early contacts. It soon became evident, however, that there were a disproportionate number of Murids in the eco-organizations and groups that I encountered. More often than not I did not actively seek organizations that were associated with the Muridiyya but instead happened upon them unintentionally. This may suggest that the prevalence of

Murids is a pattern within the Islam and nature milieu that I contend is partially connected to the tariqa’s reputation for flexibility or “accommodation,” its characterization as “revolutionary,” and its homegrown origins that appear to be tied up with the previous two assertions.

Muridism was born during and highly shaped by French occupation. Africanist historian James F. Searing has argued that the reason the Murides survived and even thrived despite the efforts of the colonial powers was due to a willingness to change – they responded flexibly to the challenging and violent colonial, realities. Searing highlighted this flexibility not only in terms of how Amadou Bamba negotiated the

141

shifting climate in Senegal but also in ideas connected to Ibrahima Fall. His emphasis on work as prayer was not universally appealing but made the religious order attractive to the poor and warrior classes (Searing 2006, 103). This sort of analysis was echoed by

David Robinson who averred “of all the ‘paths of accommodation’ between Muslim societies and French colonial authorities, the one followed by Amadu Bamba Mbacke and the Murids is ostensibly the longest, hardest, most complete, and most enduring”

(Robinson 2000a, 208).

From the present vantage point, this adaptability does indeed appear to be enduring, although the challenges which the Muridiyya now facing have changed. In the groups that I studied there was a simultaneous openness to ideas of climate change and creativity in their responses to these realizations. In the communities of Serigne bi, environmental ideas such as organic farming and green building were integrated into their agricultural focus and promotion of human dignity. G Hip Hop and Doulsy employed their existing skills and passions for the cause, and the Imams capitalized on their religious platforms and frequent interactions with their communities to disseminate environmental messages and calls to action. This flexibility has allowed these individuals and groups to address current environmental issues but are not representative of the

Muridiyya as a whole. Their actions do illustrate, however, the ways in which this adaptability might facilitate reaction and action to the challenges of the climate crisis.

Although flexibility and accommodation allowed the Muridiyya to live alongside the French, many also saw Bamba as a revolutionary. His defiance of both the Wolof kings and the French are viewed as an important part of the decolonization narrative.

Although he was a pacifist there are many stories describing the ways Bamba subverted

142

the imperialists. The first president of Senegal Leopold Senghor, for example, called

Bamba an “apostle of Negritude”; others named him one of the greatest “resisters” of the nation's history (Roberts 2006, 36) whilst Paco characterized Bamba as a “freedom fighter.”

Gabou, a friend and important financial backer of Serigne bi’s projects argued that Africa had borne the brunt of the world’s so-called progress for a long time and that

Muridism offers a solution. From this perspective the tariqa was viewed not only as having revolutionary origins but also as offering a path to a better future. Gabou asserted, moreover, that the Muridiyya was a truly Senegalese order and that its history and emphasis on work, spirituality, and solidarity promoted the health and emancipation of the nation. For him, this revolutionary spirit was encapsulated in the efforts of the eco- villages of Sergine B, which offer sustainable lifeways both economically and environmentally.

Finally, this rebellious spirit that seems tied to the history of the Muridiyya was used as a source of inspiration for activists such as Imam Sarr and Paco who drew on the example of Bamba as they fought their own battles for their communities and for their local ecosystems.

Although my research finds that there are many compelling aspects of the

Muridiyya that might facilitate environmental action, this research, in many ways contributes to the Murid-centrism that is prominent in the study of Islam in West Africa.

According to anthropologist Benjamin Soares, this academic focus has skewed not only the conception of religion in Senegal but also the West African region. This emphasis on

Muridism and/or Sufism can be seen as glossing over potentially negative aspects of the

143

brotherhood such as past assertions that they have economically exploited other

Senegalese. Instead, scholars often stress positive characteristics alone such as flexibility, their image as hardworking citizens and immigrants as well as “good” Muslims. This phenomenon also diverts attention away from other prominent groups and more recent and culturally influential phenomena. As Soares put it, “In many ways, the Murids—as represented in academic and journalistic accounts as well as in hagiography—have come to embody a supposedly authentic African Islam of Sufi orders” (Soares 2007, 325).

The Muridiyya was selected for this study for a number of reasons and was particularly appealing because it is an indigenous Senegalese form of Islam that has a history of flexibility and revolutionary tendencies. Nevertheless, it is important to recognize that some of the arguments and assertions made here could be generalized to other Sufi tariqa or even Muslims in Senegal. Various themes I have dealt with, such as religion as a motivating force for activism, rap-activism, art, environmental politics etc., are not restricted to the Murides. The lack of attention to other Sufi orders and non-Sufi

Islamic sects in this work highlights the importance and need for additional research if a holistic understanding of religion and nature in Senegal is to be more fully understood.

The Baye Fall Suborder

Although there were some unique elements of the Murid tariqa that seemed to support the environmental convictions of Muslim environmentalists in this study, a more unexpected result was the reoccurring presence of Baye Fall among my interlocutors despite their relatively small numbers nationally. Not only were Serigne bi and the vast majority of his disciples members of this suborder, I also encountered many within the urban context. Doulsy cited his Baye Fall identity as a critical aspect of his eco-artistic creations, Paco noted their large numbers in his organization, including Omar, and even

144

Pape Meissa had an ancestor from the suborder and referenced one of their teachings.

Because of their disproportionate numbers, it is worth exploring the Baye Fall separately from the greater Murid order.

When explaining the negative stereotypes associated with the Baye Fall, Diarra explained that the rather unorthodox nature of the suborder, most often characterized by pronounced devotion to one’s sheikh that replaces typical Muslim acts such as salat and sawm, might evoke a freer or more flexible attitude. It was this lack of rigidity (but certainly not the negative stereotypes associated with them), which drew Diarra to the

Baye Fall. She did not feel that the orthodoxy that she grew up in necessarily pushed practitioners toward deep engagement with spirituality and asserted that although more accommodating, the Baye Fall ethos helped her connect with something that was “deeper and more real and that was more compassionate” (Diarra, 06/03/18).

Because this majzub practice is less focused on the ritual aspects of Islam it perhaps offers an even greater level of flexibility than its parent group. To the Baye Fall, work is prayer but the form that this work takes is open to interpretation; and as we have seen this can include striving for environmental causes. The communities of Serigne bi have directed their labor and therefore their spiritual energy toward creating a model for living sustainably in the climate of central Senegal. Omar worked for, and was ready to sacrifice in order to clean and provide healthy food for his neighborhood as well as to teach urban children about gardening. Doulsy directed his creativity and skill toward producing clothes and spectacles that embodied his values of recycling and reuse and which made bold statements about environmental degradation.

145

The Baye Fall can also be argued to have a significantly adaptive quality that allows responses to changing conditions and times. In an interview with Laura Cochrane,

Sokhna Aisha recognized the importance of physical sciences in their contribution to spiritual growth and understanding. She expressed that these ways of knowing were a new tool to appreciate God’s creation, which led her to conclude, “We create a life of

Baye Fall spirituality at its foundations: the values of generosity, tolerance, patience, and work, the values that are fundamental to Islam, in a profound sense. To live with these values, we have to adapt to the situation in the Sahel” (Cochrane 2017, 113). This statement shows the willingness of the Ndem/Mbacké Kadior Baye Fall to maintain their core principals while shifting in necessary ways to fit their ecological circumstances.

The case of Doulsy illustrated that the heterodoxy of the Baye Fall allows flexibility but, to a degree, the suborder’s marginal status also facilitates an unusual level of autonomy. The fashion designer stressed that the public’s expectation of the eccentricity of his religious suborder allowed him to live out his eco-friendly lifestyle including picking up trash, creating an urban garden next to his house etc. without question. In other words, Doulsy felt that the Baye Fall ethos not only facilitated his environmental concerns at a personal level, it also provided him the freedom to publicly participate in behavior not typical among his neighbors and dominant ideas of urban life.

This suborder not only appears to offer significant internal and external flexibility that may enable participation in environmental groups or actions, there are also foundational connections between the Baye Fall and agricultural or “earth-work”. This affinity for working with the land is historical, the early economic activity within the

Murid order was highly agricultural and farming is seen as the original work of the Baye

146

Fall. This contributed to why Cheikh Sidy Mokhtar, previous head of the Murid tariqa, chose to give the highly agricultural project of restoring Mbacké Kadior to Cheikh

Dieumb Fall, Khalif General of the Baye Fall, who in turn gave the project to Serigne bi.

Diarra explained “it’s very natural in the Baye Fall ethic, I think, to want to do agriculture, to value sustainability, agriculture, the land, and rural living…That’s something that the Baye Fall have always done” (Diarra, 06/03/18). Similarly Mamoune expressed that caring for the earth is part being Baye Fall, that loving humanity is not enough but that it is also necessary to respect both animals and nature (Mamoune,

05/27/18). These sentiments were common among the disciples of Serigne bi and this association of the Baye Fall with farm work is common within greater Senegalese society as well. Although this interpretation of the suborder might not be universally held, there is an undeniable historical connection between this suborder and agricultural work that does continue on today. This can be seen through projects such as Khelcom – a large plot of land bought by the Murid Sufi order which the Baye Fall are called to farm every year

– and of course the communities of Serigne bi. Clearly the significance of rural life and working with the land is an important aspect of Baye Fall tradition, however, the extent to which this is connected to pro-environmental behavior is more variable.

Senegalese/African Culture

Muridism and/or the Baye Fall suborder have been critical aspects of my participant’s motivations or justifications for environmental concerns and actions but they were by no means the only motivation. To many, their connection to the land or to certain ecosystems was also intimately linked with a Senegalese or “African” character and culture. When Serigne bi was describing Ndem he began to speak of the Senegalese nation as a whole, “It is love really, the most accurate definition of Islam, and we have

147

this in Ndem and Senegal … It is a country of peace, it is a country that gives importance to everything that affects the heart and human communities. Everything is shared and everything is grounded in the community, there is no individualism” (Serigne Babacar,

06/10/18). In this statement, the descriptions of Ndem and Senegal seem to blend together and it appears that he views Ndem as an ideal representation of what he admires most in the local culture. Serigne bi begins this quote by referencing Islam but the qualities he describes are distinctively Senegalese.

As an indigenous form of Sufi Islam, Muridism was also lauded by its practitioners for its connection to, and valorization of local identity. Bamba himself was highly connected with nationalist historiography, African pride, and local identity. His dark skin and saintly status was a point common of pride for many Senegalese (Roberts

2006, 52-53). Often, this Identity was affirmed by or defined against Western influences through the acknowledgment of the detrimental forces — in the form of the domination of people and damaging agricultural and environmental practices— which came from

America or Europe, as seen in statements by Serigne bi and Fallou. For the most part, there seems to be a harmony between Senegalese culture and Islamic identity – local and

“traditional” beliefs have become difficult to separate from Sufi practice. As Ousmane

Pame explained to me, “Islam has harmoniously merged with local beliefs, and I guess it’s a Malian thinker who said ‘Islam is like a river, it takes the color of the rocks it crosses’” (Pame, 5/30/18)2. The value placed on this culture was expressed in the emphasis placed on traditional ecological knowledge such as the use and importance of local medicines, “traditional” myths, and proverbs. It was also seen in the “African

2 Pame this is a paraphrasing Amadou Hampate Ba (1900-1991) a Malian writer and ethnologist.

148

training” which Doulsy asserted taught respect for the “natural” and which had come before his Islamic training.

The heavy emphasis of “African”-ness, which Doulsy underlined and made him stand out because it was, at times, in tension with his Muslim identity. During my fieldwork this seemed to be a unique case but there were still widespread discussions of the importance of local knowledge and culture. In particular, there was a longing for village life that was common among most who were not, to use the Dakarois slang, “boy town” or from families that had lost their connections with the village over generations in the city.

Fallou, for example, described the traditional Senegalese home as an environment where humans live alongside multiple generations as well as animals and plants – almost like an ecosystem. He noted that the architecture in Dakar was often not conducive to this diverse living arrangement, which he viewed as a loss. Pame averred that his children much preferred the village because they could freely run and play outside and were not kept indoors for their safety. Similarly, a friend, whom I will call Aminata, lit up whenever she talked about her village, describing how beautiful it was in comparison to the city. In her reflections, she highlighted natural features such as the blush of green that appeared after a rain, the flowers, and red earth. Aminata explained to me that she would prefer to live there but this was, in her mind, impossible because the village did not have the jobs and amenities she associated with a good life (Aminata, personal communication, 6/8/2018). Comments such as these were echoed everywhere I went, in taxis, on the streets, in the markets: people would repeatedly and lovingly tell me about their villages from which their cosmopolitan lives kept them.

149

Biologist Edward Osborne Wilson, along with his student Stephen Kellert, proposed that humans have “an innately emotional affiliation…to other living organisms” that is made up of a complex of adapted behaviors (Wilson and Kellert 2013, 31).

Although this propensity, which Wilson termed “biophilia”, has the potential to foster a more caring and eco-conscious relationship with nature, it is a “weak learning” rule, which can wither in people who do not have exposure or connection to the natural world

(Wilson and Kellert 2013, 32). Interestingly this seems to reflect Fazlun Khalid’s interpretation of fitra or primordial human nature.

Although the yearning for village life was present among many of my informants, it was most significantly expressed among those that were associated with environmental projects. Doulsy himself created a hut and garden in his backyard to resemble his village;

Pame told me he only left Guédé Chantier so that he could more effectively run his eco- village organizations and returned frequently; Haidar el Ali spoke of his experience in nature as timeless and transcendent and had recently moved to the forested Casamance region; finally, the first thing Imam Sarr highlighted in our conversation was his childhood on fishing boats. It seems evident that the village/nature-rich existence that is still a strong part of Senegalese culture is an important aspect of the environmental action explored in this study. The call of Cheikh Sidy Mokhtar Mbacké of the Murids “back to the land” and the goal of Serigne bi to create a more livable village model, therefore, seems of high importance, particularly in light of Wilson and Kellert’s characterization of biophilia as a weak trait, in this nation that is urbanizing at alarming rates.

Ecocentrism and Science

Strong scientific understandings of environmental problems and solutions along with bio- or ecocentric perspectives have often been linked to effective environmental

150

action and organization. The degree to which these concepts were a part of the comments and concerns of my interlocutors varied greatly depending on the individual.

Unsurprisingly the degree to which science was explicitly discussed appears to be highly influenced by education levels within a western system. Imam Sarr, Pape Meissa, Haidar el Ali and Berta were some of those who used scientific language often and comprehensively. There was, however, a basic understanding and discussion of global warming, desertification etc, and a sense of the empirical reasons why these things were negatively affecting Senegal among many of my interviewees.

In a general sense, I gained the impression that individuals who had a strong emphasis on Senegalese culture and “African”-ness tended to express ecocentric moral sentiments. Although many such connections can be drawn, of particular note was Haidar el Ali, who was shown in the documentary film (discussed in the previous chapter) as having interactions with practitioners of African “traditional” religions and expressing respect, and possibly an affinity for, these practices.

Doulsy, for his part, showed a strong attachment to the education he received in his Fulani village, which viewed nature as a source of learning. He referenced how he was taught that elements of the natural world, including plants and animals, interact and communicate with one another in an interdependent system.

Some of those living in Serigne bi’s communities also expressed “Africanized” versions of Islam, to use David Robinson’s term, by speaking about natural objects as animated or as having agency. This seemed to promote both a holistic, although somewhat mystical ecocentric understanding of the world that gave intrinsic value to trees, animals etc.

151

Based on my findings it seems plausible to suggest that these place-based concepts may be forms or holdovers of traditional ecological knowledge that have become incorporated into Murid/Baye Fall understandings— although more research on this topic is needed. The exception of Haidar is equally intriguing. Because he is not

Murid and is an ethnic minority, the rejection of his familial religious identification could be connected to the inability of this form of Islam to find resonance with local ecologies and TEK as an indigenous sect might. My thought here may be conjecture but it illustrates the fruitful possibilities of comparative study within the different religious affiliations in Senegal.

There is a significant presence of ecocentrism and use of TEK among some of my informants; however, there was also a notable imbalance in the issues they addressed.

Many of my interlocutors had a significant focus on promoting more sustainable lifestyles through practices such as organic farming and reducing waste while there was less attention on issues that had little or no immediate effect on the human sphere.

Although some of my interlocutors expressed the value of all life forms and the importance of ecological systems, none of them were working on areas regarding endangered or imperiled species. Serigne bi’s son Fallou was the only one of my interviewees to broach the topic. He expressed the disappearance of wild species as a great loss that should be corrected – yet he did not propose solutions to these issues.

Conservation biologists have underlined the pivotal nature of “keystone species” which environmental activist and writer David Foreman defined as “highly interactive species whose removal from an ecosystem leads to a loss of habitat for other species and breakdown of ecological integrity”(Foreman 2013, 83). Big predators are usually

152

understood to be keystone species because of their vital roles in managing their ecosystems from the top down, particularly regulating the populations of grazers (Foreman

2013). Senegal has virtually lost some of its most iconic and critical species including carnivores such as lions and wild dogs (Henschel et al. 2014). Despite this, none of my interlocutors actively addressed the protection or regeneration of such species. The disproportionate focus on environmental issues that directly affected the human sphere and the gaps regarding imperiled species may indicate a degree of anthropocentrism within these groups regardless of their use of ecocentric rhetoric. Again, this would be a fruitful area for further investigation.

When looking at bio- or ecocentrism it is also productive to examine the contrast between the urban and rural cases in general. It is notable that an anthropocentric perspective appeared to be much stronger with the organizations and individuals in Dakar than in the eco-villages. Although there were members of Serigne bi’s communities that expressed that the world was “made for man”, this was not the overarching sentiment I encountered. The villages were very much influenced and directed by the beliefs of their sheikh who explained to me during my first visit to Mbacké Kadior, “It is the environment that is the line that makes it possible to understand the relation between human beings and all the creatures of the world, also it is the environment that is the remedy that heals all…” (Serigne Babacar, 06/10/18). The beliefs and teachings of

Serigne bi portray humanity in the role of khalifa, as protectors and stewards of a vast and connected web that makes up this temporal sphere. Serigne bi averred that this was a duty which we, as a species, are neglecting. His understanding of the interconnection of nature seems reflected in the holistic approach of the village itself, which has transformed

153

and cohered different aspects of life under an eco-spiritual philosophy, which strives to be a model for a new, prosperous ways of living in the rural environment.

In Dakar I encountered individuals who had the utmost respect and even reverence for the natural world but many were fighting primarily for the human species through their environmental battles. This was particularly true of the imams. Imam Malik asserted that “Islam as a religion, it is the first to call for the protection of the environment, the preservation of nature; so that there is a better life [for humanity]”

(Imam Malik, 07/10/18). Imam Sarr made a similar argument, that the value of the natural world was primarily rooted in the need for humanity to be healthy so that they could more properly worship Allah. In addition, organizations such as G Hip Hop centered their attention on environmental issues that create better living conditions for residents of Guédiawaye or the greater Dakar area. The set/setal initiatives offer healthier and cleaner living conditions but do not tackle larger issues that stem from the rapid urbanization of the nations capital or more generalized issues that the nation faces. These examples are certainly not representative of all environmental actions or actors in Dakar or even this study but instead highlight a general trend.

It is also notable when looking at the urban case that these organizations and individuals have a fairly narrow scope of concern. They often focused on one or a few of the major environmental issues that plague their area. Many Dakarois environmental organizations are focused on the most immediate issues, such as litter, and less on long- term or more general problems. The possible reasons for the discrepancies between the eco-villages and the city are multiple and beyond the parameters of this project. They may be related to forms of Islam found in both places, the differing levels of connection

154

to traditional Senegalese knowledge or perhaps even the physical setting itself – in terms of a wide-ranging and long-term ecocentric shift in Senegal it really might take a village.

Conclusion

Cheikh Amadu Bamba, founder, and saint of the Murid Sufi order, in response to colonial French accusations, was quoted as saying “They accused me of doing the Jihad

(Struggle), which I fully agree with. But the weapons through which I am doing it are science and piety. The Lord by excellence is my witness” (Touré 2012).3 While the reference to “science” is most likely referring to Islamic sciences, and perhaps is better represented as “sacred knowledge”, this quote reveals much that is at the heart of

Muridism. To Bamba, the most important and difficult challenge was the internal,

“greater jihad” of spiritual struggle. He defied the French through his knowledge, teaching, and devotion to God while at the same time he understood self-subsistence through hard work, particularly farming, as an alternative form of autonomy, piety, and submission.

This spirit of jihad continues through the work of Murid leaders and laymen who acknowledge the realities of climate change, the threats caused by pollution, and derive inspiration and strength from their local heritage, faith and new forms of knowledge when battling this new, global foe. Some elements of environmental degradation can even be seen as an extension of the nation’s colonial past as new technologies, ideologies, and structural adjustments are introduced and imposed, working in concert with a

3 I could not find the original source of this quote but it was found on multiple informal websites. See also: “The Sheikh.” n.d. Wassilatu Ruboh. http://toubamemphis.com/the-sheikh/; “Inspiration & Legend of Cafe Touba.” 2016. Cafe Touba Coffee. November 18. http://cafetouba.coffee/inspiration/; https://ar- ar.facebook.com/notes/cheikh-ahmadou-bamba-mbacke-a-peaceful-freedom-fighter/islam-and- terrorism/558132254251804/.

155

changing and warming climate and local issues that transform and degrade the

Senegalese landscape.

Some of my most notable findings in this study were related to the Baye Fall and the communities of Serigne bi. Research in this community, as well as Dakar, point to the

Baye Fall as building on the revolutionary and local qualities of the wider Sufi order, while offering an even greater level of flexibility, and a foundational connection with the land. Furthermore, the group places a profound spiritual value on work that can easily be directed toward pro-environmental behavior because of their tradition of “earth-work” but also linked to their emphasis on ascetic values such as humility and anti-materialism.

Although the Baye Fall suborder appears to have significant potential to promote environmentally friendly behavior, it is also relatively small and as we have seen, a somewhat marginalized group. Charlotte Pezeril has underlined the difficulty of estimating their numbers but speculates that their population was between 300,000-

500,000 in 2008. This would have been roughly 10-16 % of all Murids, which Pezeril placed at 30.1% of the total Senegalese population (Pezeril 2008, 13). Besides their relatively small numbers, the Baye Fall are also often stereotyped as being “bad

Muslims,” lazy, and abusers of drugs and/or alcohol. While this marginality might offer them increased freedoms, as Doulsy highlighted, this could also cause projects such as that of Serigne bi, Omar the urban gardener or Doulsy himself, to be taken less seriously by the wider Senegalese public. Conversely, the Baye Fall are made very visible by the distinctive style associated with their suborder, they have an air of coolness among the urban youth and this might give them increased cultural traction. This study points to the

156

possibility of the Baye Fall to facilitate a particularly influential form of West African eco-Islam.

Through this study of selected groups and individuals who frame environmental degradation as a religious concern, it is evident that there are significant efforts being undertaken, which, in some cases, seem to be having transformative effects on local ecological health. This can be seen in the communities of Serigne bi in their development and implementation of agroecology, their creation of resources for more eco-friendly lifestyles such as the alternative coal project, and in the promotion of a new vision of village life as autonomous, dignified and eco-conscious. Others within this study use art, music, and political or religious authority in efforts to shift consciousness and inspire action. My findings also highlight, however, the need for further investigation of the many questions explored here, as well as related topics such as comparative examination of different religious sects within Senegal or a more in-depth investigation into

Senegalese traditional ecological knowledge. This study, it seems, has developed more questions and theories than conclusions, and I hope will contribute to future research and better understandings of these topics.

As I explored and peeled back the layers of Islamic and Muslim environmentalism in Senegal I was consistently surprised by the depth of environmental concern, the important role these issues played within religious life, and the creativity in which my interlocutors addressed them. Individually there were varying degrees of importance placed on Muridism and/or the Baye Fall suborder (or Islam generally) and scientific understandings. My informants fell on different places along the spectrum of anthropocentrism and ecocentrism and some demonstrated a close connection to

157

“African” culture or “traditional” beliefs while others did not. Across this diverse field of expressions of Islam and nature, several important trends emerged. Generally, the urban setting seemed to produce environmental action that was more focused on short-term and human concerns. These groups and individuals were rather fragmented, not only working separately but even in tension with each other – particularly between the political and religious spheres. Individuals within the communities of Ndem and Mbacké Kadior were generally more ecocentric in their values. They also had more unified environmental and religious understandings, which were no doubt highly influenced by Serigne bi’s guidance. For these reasons it seems that the holistic and communal approach of these eco-villages are providing a more cohesive and transformative example of environmental action than the urban groups I studied. These village-based efforts are salutary, both socially and ecologically.

When I first arrived in Senegal it was the end of the cooroon or dry season. I quickly came to know the Senegalese countryside as a wash of beige and dust. Just before my last visit to the eco-villages of Serigne bi, however, the first downpour of the nawet or the rainy season soaked Dakar. In the city, things noticeably took on a greener tint.

Traveling to Mbacké Kadior and then Ndem, however, I was shocked. In what had been seemingly pure and lifeless sand just days before, vivid little sprouts emerged carpeting the daara. Even more stunning, however, was the wide, gnarled baobab, l’arbre renversé or upside-down tree, which for most of the year looked as though it was dead or flipped on its head— its bare roots stretched out where its branches should be. These trees were now reborn, completely leafy green.

158

There was something remarkable about this transformation, which only took a few hours of rain to instigate. Even though this was a yearly occurrence I was filled with a sense of promise. In small pockets, Senegalese religious leaders, artists, politicians and everyday people in both urban and rural settings are drawing on their religion in unconventional and creative ways in efforts to live cleaner, healthier and more sustainably. The groups I discuss here are a small minority and in many cases had problematic features in terms of the efficacy of their ecologic work. The daunting task of disseminating information, changing attitudes, behavior and consumption patterns should not be understated. The examples I have explored show innovative effort but also do not represent an overarching trend or momentum in Senegal as a nation. Additionally, their efforts have gaps in critical areas such as addressing population dynamics and endangered or imperiled species. My diverse encounters and interviews do, however, illustrate that Muridism and particularly the Baye Fall suborder have significant potential to act as a conduit for environmental change because of their ability to connect with both a rich cultural past and a scientifically based need for change. By planting moral roots within the influential Islamic base, putting this in conversation with and drawing deeply from indigenous beliefs and lifeways, as well as employing modern empirical methods and understandings, Senegal may be able to use these ‘weapons of science and piety’ to start to green.

159

Figure 5-1. The iconic baobab of Ndem before (right) and after (left) the first rain of the season. Photo edited by Gareth Newnham.

160

LIST OF REFERENCES

About Seyyed Hossein Nasr. 2018. Seyyed Hossein Nasr Foundation. http://www.nasrfoundation.org/bios.html.

“African Lion & Environmental Research Trust”. n.d. ALERT - African Lion and Environmental Research Trust. http://lionalert.org/alert/lions_in/Senegal.

“Agroécologie”. 2018. ONG Des Villageois De Ndem. http://www.ndem.info/nos- actions/agroecologie.

Ammar, Nawal. 2007. “Islam and Deep Ecology.” Essay. In Deep Ecology and World Religions: New Essays on Sacred Grounds, edited by David L. Barnhill and Roger S. Gottlieb, 193– 211. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

Aoki, Takenobu. 2015. "Islamic NGOs on Environmental Problems in Indonesia." In NGOs in the Muslim World, pp. 69-86. Routledge.

Asad, Talal. 2009. “The Idea of an Anthropology of Islam.” Qui Parle 17 (2): 1–30. doi:10.5250/quiparle.17.2.1.

Babou, Cheikh Anta Mbacké. 2007. Fighting the Greater Jihad : Amadu Bamba and the Founding of the Muridiyya of Senegal, 1853-1913. n.p.: Athens : Ohio University Press.

Barber, Karin. 2018. A History of African Popular Culture. Cambridge ; New York ; Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press.

Baum, Robert M. 1999. Shrines of the Slave Trade: Diola Religion and Society in Precolonial Senegambia. New York: Oxford University Press.

Benjaminsen, Tor A. 2008. “Does Supply-Induced Scarcity Drive Violent Conflicts in the African Sahel? The Case of the Tuareg Rebellion in Northern Mali.” Journal of Peace Research 45 (6): 819–36. doi:10.1177/0022343308096158.

Bensch, Gunther, and Jorg Peters. 2013. “Alleviating Deforestation Pressures? Impacts of Improved Stove Dissemination on Charcoal Consumption in Urban Senegal.” Land Economics 89 (4): 676–98. doi:10.3368/le.89.4.676.

Berkes, Fikret. 2012. Sacred Ecology. New York: Routledge.

Brandt, Martin, Clemens Romankiewicz, Raphael Spiekermann, and Cyrus Samimi. 2014. “Environmental Change in Time Series – An Interdisciplinary Study in the Sahel of Mali and Senegal.” Journal of Arid Environments 105: 52–63. doi:10.1016/j.jaridenv.2014.02.019.

Britannica. 2017. “Dakar”. Encyclopædia Britannica, inc. October 16. https://www.britannica.com/place/Dakar.

161

Buggenhagen, Beth A. 2013. “Islam’s New Visibility and the Secular Public in Senegal.” Essay. In Tolerance and Democracy in Sufi Senegal , 51–72. New York, NY: Columbia University Press.

Cafaro, Philip, and Eileen Crist. 2012. Life on the Brink: Environmentalists Confront Overpopulation. Athens: University of Georgia Press.

Carayol, Rémi. 2010. “Youssoupha Sarr, L'imam Qui Donne De La Voix Aux Banlieues – JeuneAfrique.com.” JeuneAfrique.com. Jeune Afrique. October 21. http://www.jeuneafrique.com/194525/societe/youssoupha-sarr-l-imam-qui-donne-de-la- voix-aux-banlieues/.

Cochrane, Laura L. 2013a. "Land Degradation, Faith-Based Organizations, and Sustainability in Senegal." Culture, Agriculture, Food & Environment 35, no. 2: 112-124.

—. 2013b. Weaving through Islam in Senegal. n.p.: Durham, N.C. : Carolina Academic Press.

—. 2016. "Rebuilding Agriculture and the Environment in Senegal." Anthropology Now 8, no. 1: 47.

—. 2017. Everyday Faith in Sufi Senegal. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group.

“Code De L'Environnement | Gouvernement Du Sénégal”. 2001. Gouv.sn. January 15. https://www.sec.gouv.sn/code-de-l’environnement.

“Country Comparison: HIV/AIDS - Adult Prevalence Rate”. n.d. Central Intelligence Agency. Central Intelligence Agency. https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world- factbook/rankorder/2155rank.html.

Dien, Mawil Izzi. 2000. The Environmental Dimensions of Islam. n.p.: Cambridge, England : Lutterworth Press.

—. 2007. “Islam and the environment: Theory and Practice.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 107-120. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

Diouf, Mamadou. 2005. "Wall Paintings and the Writing of History: Set/Setal in Dakar." GEFAME Journal of African Studies 2, no. 1.

Diop, Mame Coumba. 2008. “Portrait : Youssoupha Sarr Un Imam Révolutionnaire Par Conviction Et Par Altruisme.” PRESSAFRIK.COM , L'info Dans Toute Sa Diversité (Liberté - Professionnalisme - Crédibilité). December 18. https://www.pressafrik.com/Portrait-Youssoupha-Sarr-un-imam-revolutionnaire-par- conviction-et-par-altruisme_a510.html.

162

Finnegan, Eleanor Daly. 2011. “Hijra and Homegrown Agriculture: Farming among American Muslims.” Thesis.

Foltz, Richard C. 2005a. Environmentalism in the Muslim World. New York: Nova Science Publishers.

—. 2005b. “Islamic Basis for Environmental Protection.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 879-883. London & New York: Continuum.

—. 2006. Animals in Islamic Traditions and Muslim Cultures. Oxford: Oneworld.

—. 2007a. , “Introduction.” Essay In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. xxxvii- xliii. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

—. 2007b. “Islamic Environmentalism: A matter of Interpretation.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 249-275. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

—. 2011. “Islam.” Essay. In The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology, edited by Roger S. Gottlieb, 207–19. S.l.: Oxford University Press Inc.

Foley, Ellen E., and Cheikh Anta Babou. 2010. “Diaspora, Faith, and Science: Building a Mouride Hospital in Senegal.” African Affairs 110 (438): 75–95. doi:10.1093/afraf/adq063.

Foreman, Dave. 2013. Rewilding North America A Vision For Conservation In The 21St Century. Washington: Island Press.

Foucault, Michel. 1995. Discipline and Punish : the Birth of the Prison. n.p.: New York : Vintage Books.

The Founder. 2015. IFEES The Islamic Foundation For Ecology And Environmental Sciences About Comments. Accessed. http://www.ifees.org.uk/about/the-founder/.

Fredericks, Rosalind Cooke. 2009. Doing the dirty Work: The Cultural Politics of Garbage Collection in Dakar, Senegal. University of California, Berkeley.

—. 2014. “Vital Infrastructures of Trash in Dakar.” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 34 (3): 532–48. doi:10.1215/1089201x-2826085.

Freeman, Laura. 2017. “Environmental Change, Migration, and Conflict in Africa: A Critical Examination of the Interconnections.” The Journal of Environment & Development 26 (4): 351–74. doi:10.1177/1070496517727325.

163

Gellar, Sheldon. 1995. Senegal: an African Nation between Islam and the West. Boulder, CO: Westview Press.

Gérard, Jérôme. 1994. “Un Parti Vert Au Sénégal : Une Participation Militante : La Nature Et L'homme En Afrique.” Politique Africaine 53: 75–88.

Gilbert, Sarah S. 2008. "The Influence of Islam on AIDS Prevention among Senegalese University Students." AIDS Education And Prevention: Official Publication Of The International Society For AIDS Education 20, no. 5: 399-407.

“Gaols & Objectives”. 2018. REDES Network for Ecovillage Emergence and Development in the Sahel. Accessed August 6. http://redes-ecovillages.org/eng/gaols-objectives/.

Gould, Rebecca Kneale. 1997. At Home in Nature: the Religious and Cultural Work of Homesteading in Twentieth-Century America. Berkeley: University of California Press.

—. 2005a. “Back to the Land Movements.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 148-151. London & New York: Continuum.

—. 2005b. “Book of Nature.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 148-151. London & New York: Continuum.

Griffin, Roger. 2005. “Fascism.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 639-643. London & New York: Continuum.

Seck, Abdourahmane, Mayke Kaag, Cheikh Guéye, and Abdou Salam Fall, eds. 2015. État, sociétés Et Islam Au Sénégal: Un Air De Nouveau Temps? Paris: Karthala.

Guha, Ramachandra. 1998. “Deep Ecology Revisited.” Essay. In The Great New Wilderness Debate, 271–79. Athens: Univ. of Georgia Press.

Guijarro, Ester Massó. 2013. "Baye-Faal in Senegal, Baye-Faal in Lavapiés, Baye-Faal in the Sacromonte Caves: Diasporic Transnationalism of a Sufi Heterodoxy." Annual Review Of Islam In Africa 12, no. 2: 25-30.

Haque, Nicolas. 2015. “Senegal Imam Calls for 'Green Jihad'.” Al Jazeera. August 5. https://www.aljazeera.com/blogs/africa/2015/08/senegal-imam-calls-green-jihad- 150805051318929.html.

Hawken, Paul. 2017. Drawdown: the Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Roll Back Global Warming. London: Penguin Books.

Haykel, Bernard. 2014. “On the Nature of Salafi Thought and Action.” Essay. In Global Salafism: Islam's New Religious Movement, 34–57. Oxford University Press Online.

164

Hennequin, Dominique, dir. 2017. Haidar: L’Homme Qui Plante Des Arbres. Nomades TV.

Henschel, Philipp, Lauren Coad, Cole Burton, Beatrice Chataigner, Andrew Dunn, David Macdonald, Yohanna Saidu, and Luke T. B. Hunter. 2014. “The Lion in West Africa Is Critically Endangered.” PLoS ONE 9 (1). doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0083500.

Homer-Dixon, Thomas F. 2001. Environment, Scarcity, and Violence. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Ingold, Tim. 2011. The Perception of the Environment: Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill. London: Routledge.

IUCN/SSC African Elephant Specialist Group (AfESG). 2017. “Status of Elephant Populations, Levels of Illegal Killing and the Trade in Ivory: A Report to the CITES Standing Committee.” Conservation Action Trust. November 27. https://conservationaction.co.za/resources/reports/status-elephant-populations-levels- illegal-killing-trade-ivory-report-cites-standing-committee/.

“Jardin Faune et Flore.” n.d. ONG Des Villageois De Ndem. http://www.ndem.info/nos- actions/agroecologie/jardin-faune-et-flore.

Kaag, Mayke, ed. 2011. Islam Et Engagements Au Sénégal: Leiden: Centre D’études Africaines.

Kallend, Arne. 2005. “Religious Environmental Paradigm.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 1367–71. London & New York: Continuum.

Kassam, Karim-Aly, Zahra Golshani, and Marianne E. Krasny. 2018. “Grassroots Stewardship in Iran.” Essay. In Grassroots to Global: Broader Impacts of Civic Ecology, edited by Marianne E. Krasny, 65–84. Ithaca ; London: Cornell University Press.

Khalid, Fazlun. 2002. “Islam and the Environment.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Global Environmental Change. Edited by Timmerman, Peter, Ted Munn. 707-714. Chichester: Wiley.

—. 2005. “Islamic Basis for Environmental Protection.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 879-883. London & New York: Continuum.

—. 2007. “Islam, Ecology, and Modernity: an Islamic Critique of the Root Causes of Environmental Degradation.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 3-37. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

—. 2016. “Guardians of the Natural Order.” IslamiCity. November 22. https://www.islamicity.org/2571/guardians-of-the-natural-order/.

165

Krech III, Shepard. 2005. “American Indians as ‘First Ecologists’.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, 42-45. London & New York: Continuum.

“La Population Du Sénégal En 2017.” 2018. Agence Nationale De La Statistique Et De La Démographie. Minister De L’Economie Des Finances Et Du Plan. March. http://www.ansd.sn/ressources/publications/Rapport_population_2017_05042018.pdf.

LeBlanc, Marie Nathalie, and Gosselin, Louis Audet. 2016. Faith and Charity: Religion and Humanitarian Assistance in West Africa. London: Pluto Press, 2016.

Leichtman, Mara. 2015. Shiʻi cosmopolitanisms in Africa : Lebanese migration and religious conversion in Senegal. n.p.: Bloomington : Indiana University Press.

Leopold, Aldo. 1968. A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There. London: OUP.

Leopold, Aldo, Luna Bergere Leopold, and Mary A. Shafer. 1991. Round River: from the Journals of Aldo Leopold. Minocqua, WI: NorthWord Press.

LeVassure, Todd. 2015. “‘Globalizing the Ecovillage Ideal; Networks of Empowerment, Seeds of Hope." .” Essay. In Environmental Anthropology Engaging Ecotopia: Bioregionalism, Permaculture, and Ecovillages, edited by James R. Veteto and Joshua Lockyer, 251–68.

—. 2018. Religious Agrarianism and the Return of Place: From Values to Practice in Sustainable Agriculture. S.l.: State Univ. of New York Press.

Liu, Joseph. 2012. “Religious Affiliation.” Pew Research Center's Religion & Public Life Project. August 9. http://www.pewforum.org/2012/08/09/the-worlds-muslims-unity-and- diversity-1-religious-affiliation/.

Llewellyn, Othman Abd-ar-Rahman. 2007. “The Bases for a Discipline of Environmental Law.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 185-247. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

Loimeier, Roman. 2013. Muslim Societies in Africa: a Historical Anthropology. Indiana University Press.

Majzub. 2012. Informed Comment. May 20. https://www.juancole.com/library/dictionary-of- islam-hughes/majzub.

Mbacké, Khadim, and John O. Hunwick. 2005. Sufism and Religious Brotherhoods in Senegal. n.p.: Princeton, NJ : Markus Wiener Publishers.

McLaughlin, Fiona. 1997. "Islam and Popular Music in Senegal: the Emergence of a 'New Tradition'." Africa no. 4: 560-581.

166

Morris, Julia. 2014. "Baay Fall Sufi Da'iras: Voicing Identities Through Acoustic Communities." African Arts 47, no. i: 42-53.

Muir, John. 1997. Nature Writings. New York: Library of America.

Musallam, Basim. 1983. Sex and Society in Islam: Birth Control Before the Nineteenth Century. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Myers, Garth Andrew. 2016. Urban Environments in Africa : A Critical Analysis of Environmental Politics. n.p.: Bristol : Policy Press.

Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. 1993. The Need for a Sacred Science. n.p.: Albany : State University of New York Press.

—. 2007. “Islam, the Contemporary Islamic world and the Environmental Crisis.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 185-247. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

Nicholson, Sharon. 2000. “Land Surface Processes and Sahel Climate.” 38 (1): 117–40. doi:10.1029/1999rg000014.

Nkwachukwu, Onwughara, Chukwu Chima, Alaekwe Ikenna, and Lackson Albert. 2013. “Focus on Potential Environmental Issues on Plastic World towards a Sustainable Plastic Recycling in Developing Countries.” International Journal of Industrial Chemistry 4 (1): 34. doi:10.1186/2228-5547-4-34.

Norenzayan, Ara. 2013. Big Gods : How Religion Transformed Cooperation and Conflict. n.p.: Princeton : Princeton University Press.

Nyong, A., F. Adesina, and B. Osman Elasha. 2007. “The Value of Indigenous Knowledge in Climate Change Mitigation and Adaptation Strategies in the African Sahel.” Mitigation and Adaptation Strategies for Global Change 12 (5): 787–97. doi:10.1007/s11027-007- 9099-0.

Orsi, Robert. 2001. “Everyday Miracles: The Study of Lived Religion.” Essay. In Lived Religion in America: toward a History of Practice, edited by David D. Hall. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

—. 2002. The Madonna of 115th Street: Faith and Community in Italian Harlem, 1880-1950. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

“Our Strategy.” 2015. IFEES The Islamic Foundation For Ecology And Environmental Sciences About Comments. Accessed. http://www.ifees.org.uk/about/our-strategy/.

167

Ozdemir, Ibrahim. 2007. “Environmental Ethics from a Qur’anic Perspective.” Essay. In Islam and Ecology: a Bestowed Trust, edited by Richard C. Foltz. Frederick Mathewson. Denny, and Azizan Haji Baharuddin. 3-37. Cambridge: International Society for Science and Religion.

Rosalind, Fredericks. 2015. "Vital Infrastructures of Trash in Dakar." Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East no. 3: 532-548.

Pame, Ousmane. n.d. “Ecology, a Fundamental Dimension of Islam.” Senegal: Dakar.

Patrut, Adrian, Stephan Woodborne, Roxana T. Patrut, Laszlo Rakosy, Daniel A. Lowy, Grant Hall, and Karl F. Von Reden. 2018. “The Demise of the Largest and Oldest African Baobabs.” Nature Plants 4 (7): 423–26. doi:10.1038/s41477-018-0170-5.

Peterson, Anna L. 2005. Seeds of the Kingdom: Utopian Communities in the Americas. New York: Oxford University Press.

Pezeril, Charlotte. 2008. Islam, Mysticisme et Marginalité: les Baay Faal du Sénégal. Paris: L'Harmattan.

Pontzen, Benedikt. 2018. “‘African Religion.’ Some Conceptual Issues.” June.

Réhabilitation & Viabilisation Du Site Historique De Mbacké Kadior. n.d. Réhabilitation & Viabilisation Du Site Historique De Mbacké Kadior.

Rice, Gillian. 2006. "Pro-environmental Behavior in Egypt: Is there a Role for Islamic Environmental Ethics?." Journal Of Business Ethics 65, no. 4: 373-390.

Riddell, Katrina. 2009. Islam and the Securitisation of Population Policies: Muslim States and Sustainability. Surrey: Ashgate.

Roberts, Allen F., Mary Nooter. Roberts, and Gassia Armenian. 2003. A Saint in the City: Sufi Arts of Urban Senegal. Los Angeles (Calif.): UCLA Fowler Museum of Cultural History.

Robinson, David. 2000a. Paths of Accommodation: Muslim societies and French colonial authorities in Senegal and Mauritania, 1880-1920. n.p.: Athens, Ohio : Ohio University Press ; Oxford : James Currey.

—. 2000b. “Revolutions in the Western Sudan.” Essay. In The History of Islam in Africa, edited by Nehemia Levtzion and Randall Lee Pouwels, 131–52. Athens: Ohio University Press.

—. 2004. Muslim societies in African history. n.p.: Cambridge, UK ; New York : Cambridge University Press.

Ross, Eric S. 2015. “Senegal.” Essay. In Africa: An Encyclopedia of Culture and Society, edited by Daniel Jean-Jacques. ABC-CLIO, LLC.

168

Roudi-Fahimi, Farzaneh. 2004. Islam and Family Planning. Washington, D.C.: Population Reference Bureau.

Sakho, Bocar. 2008. “Imam Youssoupha Sarr, Président Du Collectif Des Quartiers De Guédiawaye : L'insurgé De Dieu.” Xibar.net - L'oeil Critique Du Sénégal. Xibar Multimedia. December 16. https://www.xibar.net/Imam-Youssoupha-Sarr-president-du- Collectif-des-quartiers-de-Guediawaye-L-insurge-de-Dieu_a14092.html.

Sanford, A. Whitney. 2017. Living Sustainably What Intentional Communities Can Teach Us about Democracy, Simplicity, and Nonviolence. Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky.

Schaefer, Jame. 2016. “Motivated for Action and Collaboration: The Abrahamic Religions and Climate Change.” Geosciences 6 (3): 31. doi:10.3390/geosciences6030031.

Searcey, Dionne. 2018. “Across Senegal, the Beloved Baobab Tree Is the 'Pride of the Neighborhood'.” The New York Times. The New York Times. September 30. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/09/30/world/africa/senegal-baobabs-climate- change.html?action=click&module=News&pgtype=Homepage.

Seesemann, Rüdiger, and Benjamin F. Soares. 2009. “Being as Good Muslims as Frenchmen: On Islam and Colonial Modernity in West Africa.” Journal of Religion in Africa 39 (1): 91– 120. doi:10.1163/157006609x409067.

Searing, James F. 2006. "God Alone Is King": Islam and Emancipation in Senegal ; the Wolof Kingdoms of Kajoor and Bawol, 1859-1914. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.

Senegal Child Mortality Rate, 1960-2017. n.d. Knoema. https://knoema.com/atlas/Senegal/Child- mortality-rate.

Senegal Imam Declares 'Green Jihad'. 2015. Presstv. August 10. https://www.presstv.com/DetailFr/2015/08/10/424091/Senegal-Imam-Youssoupha-Sarr- environment-protection-Green-Jihad.

Senegal Map. n.d. Mapsland. https://www.mapsland.com/africa/senegal/detailed-political-and- administrative-map-of-senegal-with-relief-roads-railroads-and-major-cities-1989.

Soares, Benjamin F. 2007. “Rethinking Islam and Muslim Societies in Africa.” African Affairs 106 (423): 319–26. doi:10.1093/afraf/adm015.

—. 2012. “On the Recent Mess in Mali (Respond to This Article at Http://Www.therai.org.uk/at/Debate).” Anthropology Today 28 (5): 1–2. doi:10.1111/j.1467-8322.2012.00894.x.

169

Sylla, F et al. 2018. Traffic Air Pollution and Respiratory Health: A Cross-Sectional Study among Bus Drivers in Dakar (Senegal). Open Journal of Epidemiology, 8, 1-13. doi: 10.4236/ojepi.2018.81001.

Taylor, Bron. 1995. Ecological Resistance Movements: the Global Emergence of Radical and Popular Environmentalism. Albany, NY: State Univ. of New York Press.

—. 2005. “Introduction.” Essay. In Encyclopedia of Religion Nature and Culture, edited by Bron Taylor, vii-xxvi. London & New York: Continuum.

—. 2010. Dark Green Religion: Nature Spirituality and the Planetary Future. n.p.: Berkeley : University of California Press.

Taylor, Bron. 2016. “The United Nations (Via Religion and Its Affiliated Agencies) to the Rescue in the Cause of Conservation?” Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature and Culture 10 (4): 485–99. doi:10.1558/jsrnc.v10i4.32179.

Taylor, Bron, Gretel Van Wieren, and Bernard Daley Zaleha. 2016a. “Lynn White Jr. and the Greening-of-Religion Hypothesis (Part One): From Lynn White, Jr and Claims That Religions Can Promote Environmentally Destructive Attitudes and Behaviors to Assertions They Are Becoming Environmentally Friendly.” Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature and Culture 10 (3): 268-305. doi:10.1558/jsrnc.v10i3.29010.

—. 2016b. “The Greening of Religion Hypothesis (Part Two): Assessing the Data from Lynn White, Jr, to Pope Francis.” Journal for the Study of Religion, Nature and Culture 10 (3): 306–78. doi:10.1558/jsrnc.v10i3.29011.

“The Founder”. 2015. IFEES The Islamic Foundation For Ecology And Environmental Sciences About Comments. Accessed. http://www.ifees.org.uk/about/the-founder/.

“The World Factbook: Senegal”. 2018. Central Intelligence Agency. Central Intelligence Agency. August 20. https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world- factbook/geos/sg.html.

Touré, Aïda. 2012. “Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba (1854-1927)”. Visual Sufi Poetry by Aïda Touré. October 1. https://visualsufipoetry.wordpress.com/2005/07/15/cheikh-ahmadou-bamba- 1854-1927/.

Tuan, Yi-Fu. 1968. “Discrepancies Between Environmental Attitude And Behavior: Examples From Europe And China.” The Canadian Geographer/Le Géographe Canadien 12 (3): 176–91. doi:10.1111/j.1541-0064.1968.tb00764.x.

United Nations Development Programme. 2007. “Human Development Report 2007/2008.” New York: New York.

170

Villalon, Leonardo Alfonso. 1995. Islamic Society and State Power in Senegal : disciples and citizens in Fatick. n.p.: Cambridge ; New York : Cambridge University Press.

Welle, Deutsche. 2013. “Who Is Fazlun Khalid?.” DW.COM. April 2. http://www.dw.com/en/who-is-fazlun-khalid/a-16714800.

White, Lynn Townsend, 1967. "The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis." Science 155, no. 3767: 1203-207.

Wilson, Edward O. and Stephen Kellert, R. 2013. The Biophilia Hypothesis. Island Press.

Yazid, Yazlina M. 2008. “Faith-Based Environmentalism: A Case Study of Islamic-Based Environmental Organisations in the United Kingdom.” Thesis. Institute of social studies.

171

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Aya Cockram was born and raised in Oregon. She graduated from Kalamazoo College in

2012 with a bachelor's degree in Religion and with a concentration in Social Movements and

Environmental Ethics. Her undergraduate thesis Green Islam: the Color of Environmentalism in

Senegal received honors from her department, was presented at the Western Michigan Research

Symposium and the International Society for the Study of Religion, Nature & Culture conference in 2012. She lived and taught in China for two years and received her master’s degree in

Religion and Nature with certificates in Global Islam and African Studies from the University of

Florida in 2018.

172