“It’s over there, straight ahead and then right, you can’t miss it.” The fruit seller, under his large red tarp, has no doubts. The way to go to Senegal, he knows it. Just go to the heart of Harlem, get off at the 116 metroe west street, and follow its directions: the first on the right.
Little Senegal, the “Little Senegal”: barely two or three blocks, a microcosm, stuck on the 116e West Street, between 5e and the 8e avenue. Here, in the heart of Harlem, the northern border of New York is still far away but already floats like an air of departure, an invitation to travel. The avenues are starting to look like freeways: big trucks, with smoky chimneys, carrying milk or junk, go up towards the Bronx, speeding towards the Upstate or across the United States.
Women in tight-fitting boubous, men in tavern hats stride along the uneven sidewalk, cellphones screwed to their ears. In the street, in the red brick shops, we joke in Wolof, we greet each other in Arabic – «Salam Aleykum» – we order in French, we hug in English. Hairdressers, very numerous, offer the whole range of African hair, nappy, slicked or dreadlocks. The street, flooded with sun, seems like on vacation, rocked by the songs of the children running towards Morning Side Park and the sound of the deckchairs that the old inhabitants of the neighborhood unfold on the asphalt, drawing like a small beach on the Gulf of Guinea facing the ocean from the street.
The founding fathers
Today, 20,000 Senegalese live in New York (others say 12,000, some 25,000, the figure is uncertain). The district owes its name, but above all its reputation, to a film by Rachid Bouchareb, released in 2001. The story is that of an old guard of the House of Slaves on the island of Gorée, in the bay of Dakar, leaving for New York, in search of the descendants of his family, deported to the New World. The founding fathers of Little Senegal arrived much later, in the 1980s, driven by the economic crisis.
The first to arrive, heads of families, poorly educated, were quickly subscribed to temporary and precarious jobs, taxi or construction, folding seats for newcomers. But times are changing, and Pap Ndiouga Cissé is proof of that. We push the door of Baobab, its “pan-African” restaurant on the 116e. A thin mustache, a spring polo shirt, a soft gaze, Pap sits on a table and clasps his hands, one eye on the phone, the other at lunchtime approaching.
28-year-old Dakarois, who arrived in New York 4 years ago, Pap is part of the new generation of immigrants from Little Senegal, the one who wants to go upmarket and have his share of the American pie. “I came to study criminal law and criminal justice. To pay for my studies, I was a cook, before becoming an assistant manager at Baobab ”, he says. The country is far away, so is homesickness. Pap does not hide it: “I am here to stay. Here, there are jobs, opportunities. I am doing the paperwork to become an American. »
“Even in France, there is no equivalent”
The Senegalese flag lines the horizon in red, green and gold. Hanging on a scaffolding, it announces the offices of the Association of Senegalese of America (ASA). Its 4,000 members and almost thirty years of experience (born in 1988) make it one of the largest associations of African immigrants in the world. “Even in France there is no equivalent”, insists Dame Sy, secretary general of the association.
In the austere reception hall, a portrait gallery hangs on the walls. Miracle, here, all of Senegal is gathered: President Macky Sall observes the visitor with dignity, right next to a photo of his predecessor and fierce opponent, Abdoulaye Wade. Colonial General Louis Faidherbe, Governor of Senegal, rubbed shoulders with the first independence president, Léopold Sédar Senghor.
The association is rich: its members pay 10 dollars in membership fees per month, ie a monthly budget of more than 300,000 euros, not counting aid from the Senegalese government. In exchange, the ASA “Helps the Senegalese who arrive here to find accommodation, gives them advice on immigration papers, work permits”, explains Dame Sy. The association also functions as a mutual, financing the large health expenses of its members and their funerals.
But the “Little Senegal” looks more like a concentrate of West Africa than a miniature Dakar. At the neighborhood pharmacy, attached to the association, the owner is Senegalese, the manager Nigerian, the Guinean technician. ” Here we speak French “, announces a green and red neon on the storefront.
Even in Little Senegal, the pharmacist, Wassila, a young Algerian girl full of life, feels “African to the end of the bone! From her vantage point, she observes the thousand miseries of the neighborhood: “People who come here often have fatigue, skin and joint problems. Many Senegalese still work at night, as taxis or on construction sites. Their life is not easy, they ask for a lot of cream and vitamins. ”
Poverty has also settled in the tourist market Malcom Shabazz, two hundred numbers above. Under the arcades, where boubous, grigris and shea butter are sold, Ibrahim has been calling out shoppers for over twelve years. “There are no Americans here, assures this native of Bamako. We have Mali, Senegal, Guinea Conakry, Benin… ” At the entrance to the market, a sign prohibits the recording of sounds and videos. “Some have papers, others don’t …”, Ibrahim explains.
A karate club converted into a prayer room
In Little Senegal, the mosques are packed, frequented by Senegalese, but also by African-Americans. On the 116e street, boubous shops also offer colorful Islamic veils. When the time comes, a karate club is converted into a prayer room. The shops have their small cardboard boxes, where the customer can slip a few green tickets, bound for the Islamic Cultural Center of Harlem.
“The first immigrants were very religious”, says a local resident. The Murid Islamic Community in America (MICA) is headquartered in a brick house twenty blocks north. “The marabouts give advice, preach good values, the importance of community and family, going to the mosque, not drinking, not going to jail », We add.
The Harlem center is also the beating heart of the African American community. Martin Luther King has his street there and Malcolm X, legend of the neighborhood, his avenue, but also his mosque: the Malcolm Shabazz, which he founded in 1956. The relationship with African-Americans has not always been easy. “But today they are very curious about us, assures Pap Ndiouga Cissé. They want to know more about their home continent. Many of them are now traveling, going to Africa tourism. In addition, we can all be a victim of racism: unity is strength. ”
Maquis of Abidjan or boui-boui of Dakar
Lunchtime is approaching. In restaurant kitchens, frying is king, fufu flour mixes with Maggi cubes, thieray ingredients, Senegalese couscous, and black pepper from Cameroon. But the prices are not what they used to be. The end of insecurity and the rise of tourism are pushing additions to the top. On the 116e rue, a two-room apartment is rented today at 3,000 dollars (2,738 euros) per month.
Senegalese businesses are leaving, or going upmarket. Restaurant The savanna was recently visited by the New Yorker, rather used to southern Manhattan. On boulevard Frederick Douglass, the famous Senegalese pastry shop, Les Ambassades, now offers New York prices, which is to say very expensive. Its terrace is more like the Parisian café than the maquis of Abidjan or the boui-boui of Dakar.
So, Little Senegal, in ten or twenty years? “I don’t know if it will still exist, soupire Dame Sy. It’s really, really hard to live in Harlem now. The rents are really too expensive. “ The 116e seems on the way out, its inhabitants bound for the foothills of New York. Pap chose the Bronx, Wassila the one in southern Brooklyn. But the young Algerian pharmacist will not come out unscathed from her stay in Harlem: “It made me really want to go to Senegal! I will surely spend there on my return home! “
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