Simb/ Faux Léons

Ci loo nekk ?

Just when I thought that I had seen it all…

One day I was walking around, muttering to myself about the challenges of development, when I noticed a group of kids running towards me. I prepared to shake the little hands and tell them to wait for their cadeaux until later. However, the kids kept running, and passed me by. Confused, I turned the corner and saw a whole swarm of kids running after the first group. A look at their faces revealed not the playful glee of children playing, but the sincere fear of children fleeing. I turned and ran too.

After avoiding my potential trampling by 12 yr olds, I followed my curiosity over to where all the kids were coming from. ‘It’s a lion!’ Was the answer to my question. Now, sorry to burst your bubble, but the closest thing we have to a lion here is a wild dog. There had to be some kind of joke I had not been let in on.

I hung around long enough to see what the kids had run from: a guy with face painted like a lion, dressed and built like a wrestler (see wrestler pics below), and a bunch of gri-gris all over him. As I watched him stomp out the rhythm of the drums, I thought to myself, ‘these dudes are what I pictured when I thought of ‘traditional Africans’ before coming here’.

The next day I followed my host sister through the throng of kids demanding that I buy them tickets into the Simb. The Simb (or Faux Léons in French) is, I am told, a Serer tradition that has evolved into a Senegalese tradition. My guess is that the Muslims wiped out stuff like this from the culture of the Wolofs and others, sparing only the traditions of the Serer and the tribes of the Casamance with cool stuff like the Simb.

Here’s the drill: A bunch of these guys dressed like lions dance to the prototypical tam-tam (drums) and chase down kids outside of the event, while guys dressed as girls (don’t ask me why) mess with people. I don’t need to reiterate that these guys can dance. When they catch kids who haven’t bought a ticket, they bring them into the center of the ring of people watching to ‘beat’ them until someone comes to their rescue to buy them a 100 CFA (20 cent) ticket. They mostly just want to embarrass the kid and pretend to beat him to entertain the adults and instil fear into the young.

You know you’re a freak when the little kid at the Simb is watching you instead of all this craziness going on in front of him.

Yesterday evening was spent sprinting away with the children in only half-faked horror. I ran partly because I think this whole thing is awesome, partly because everyone watching me thought I was hilarious, and partly because I would do anything not to get caught by those guys. It’s all fun and games until you’re the sacrificial Toubab lamb. I get messed with plenty already, thank you.

This is probably the coolest ‘African’ thing I have seen. Guys on stilts and dudes in crazy costumes are cooler than the meat-eating contest Muslim holidays. My name may be Muustaafa, but I haven’t converted yet. The Senegalese think I’m kidding when I say I’m bringing this back to America. They’re wrong. Mungiy ñew de!!