It has been fourteen days since my arrival and a lot has happened. In fact, so much has happened that I don’t know exactly why it is happening and so quickly. It would be wise to elaborate on that in a calm minute that I don´t seem to have before 10 p.m.
In my work at Assalamalekoum Cultures I am fully focused on preparing videos for the Women’s Independence Festival (WIF, 2-8 March)
In this context, we also filmed with the mayor of Nouakchott, Madame Fatimatou Abdel Malick. It was one of the very few times in Mauritania that we were offered only one glass of tea. Usually, Mauritanians always drink three. In this case, however, due to a tight schedule there was no time for three. By the way, we were not offered anything to drink at the EU embassy. It is the small impressions that shape the atmosphere. We also shot videos with a well-known businesswoman, Amina Habib, the coordinator of the WIF, Hawa Ba, and an influencer, whom I would like to call Halima here. The work is basically manageable, but deadlines are approaching and sometimes video production processes are very chaotic. This also leads to conflicts. Thank God I have the support of all the people in charge at Assalamalekoum Cultures for my research. I am flexible in my working hours, can also use the location at any time of day for interviews, and get to know artists. There are even joint music projects with me, but hopefully we can talk about that in the future.
As far as my research is concerned, I would like to put the visible part first. Today I did the second interview, with a female rapper, the newcomer Missy Hagga. The first one I did was with the experienced rapper Imperial Cherghawi for about 40 minutes. An interview with an artist is planned for tomorrow, and two more for Friday. In the future I would like to talk more with non-artists, but even within the hip hop scene there are such diverse positions that I consider the interviews to be profitable.
Hanging out in studios.
It is important, and this brings me to the most personal point for me, that I have people here who support me. There’s the influencer Halima and the video producer Fatih, even if that’s not his real name. Fatih is the kind of support I can only wish for any African Studies Master student during their time in Africa. He, who speaks Wolof, Pulaar, Hassaniya, French and minimal English, acts as a interpreter for me. Although Missy Hagga spoke French, she switched to Wolof for crucial questions as it was easier for her. With Imperial and Missy, Fatih even asked questions when the interview was already over for me. The answers were very useful. He is absolutely involved in my project, drives me, buys clothes with me for festivities, contacts artists, expresses project ideas and of course he is my first port of call on society issues. All this without any payment or even major return service on my part. We get along very well and yet I wondered about his motivation for all this. I learned today from Monza, the director of Assalamalekoum Cultures, that Fatih had wanted to be involved in a documentary like this for a long time and that he was even one of the reasons why Monza finally agreed to that documentary. Well, maybe it’s pure idealism, in any case his acquaintance is a great asset for me. I hope to be able to return the favour. But at no point, and this is important, do I feel that I am not in control of my research decisions.
The Influencer Halima, who helps promote the WIF at Assalamalekoum, also supports me to the best of her ability. And there is a lot of ability. Not only does she explain to me the context of Bidhan High Society or her role as an independent woman in changing society, but she also introduces me to numerous people and arranges interviews for me. She is very well known, earns good money and is damn busy. When we were alone, her mobile phone rang every three minutes. Some of the callers even I knew, including influential people in the music scene. Last night she took me to the birthday of the extremely successful singer Mouna Dendeny. It was an invited party, a very exclusive and homogeneous circle, the proportion of Bidhan (“whites”, Mauritanians of Arab-Beber origin) was about 95 %. Black people were mainly present as cameramen and waiters. So here I was in the midst of these 100 or so people in an expensive restaurant where it felt like no one really emptied their plate completely and most of the young women were busy with Instagram stories. An Igawwn (Mauritanian griot) sang in honour of the hostess, then money was thrown at him – a Moorish (as they say here) tradition. Finally, Mouna herself performed, along with her Igawwn family. Only the Igawwn are traditionally allowed to make music in Mauritania. Nevertheless, rappers were also admitted who played live then. They were not Igawwn, but it doesn´t seem to matter in modern music. Tradition and modernity, a society in transition. Halima told me the story of Sedoum Ahmed, who comes from an Igawwn family and married his girlfriend a few months ago. She, however, comes from a higher “caste” within the Bidhan, the zuwaya (scholars). The difference in status was so huge that the two families had the marriage annulled. Sedoum then published the song “Vargouna” (“They separated us” in Hassaniya), which not only remains in my head as an catchy tune, but was also the topic of conversation throughout Mauritania. Now the two are still together and make no secret of it. I met Sedoum’s girlfriend on Mouna’s birthday. We spoke briefly in English (exceptional!) and I told her that Sedoum had written a wonderful song about her. She then thanked me and said I could meet him soon if I wanted. I want.
A griot singing at Mouna Dendenni´s Birthday.
Three comments on that:
First of all, it’s unbelievable how things are going at the moment. I deal with artists and think they are unreachable and two days later I talk to them and they readily agree to interviews. I’m honestly struggling to coordinate the number of interviews and potential interviewees over the next few weeks. It helps in the sense that I am a musician myself. Basically, I almost always introduce myself with, “I’m doing a documentary on Mauritanian hip hop,” whereupon Halima and/or Fatih add, “And he’s also an artist, a rapper, a singer.” This seems to connect, so it doesn’t seem impossible that I have valuable people not only as conversation partners, but perhaps – as a nice side effect – as music partners. In a way, I’m crossing the threshold of observer. Of course, we all influence our environment constantly through physical presence, but this certainly goes a step further. Still, maybe it also leads people to perceive me as authentic because (some of) my motivations are more transparent.
Talking about motivation, I also wonder about Halima’s. In a society as conservative as Mauritania, rumours can have consequences. Taking me, as the only companion (and only non-Mauritanian), into the lions’ high society mouth will – I was told – be a big topic of conversation among those present. It is not made less striking by the fact that Mouna had her birthday filmed and will release it as a music video. I will be watching this. It is confusing. It’s an opportunity. And I don’t know where it will lead.
This text contains little that is concrete about the topics of my research, I believe. This is deliberate out of an abundance of caution. But there is one thing I cannot conceal. It is central for me. A few days ago, a well-known human rights activist, Souvi Ould Cheine, was apparently killed by police officers at a police station in Nouakchott. Since then, there have been major protests. Ould Cheine was not a bidhan, which should come as no surprise. In a few days I hope to interview an artist I met at Mouna’s birthday. Two days after Ould Cheine’s death, the artist released a song about it. It’s a bit schizophrenic, isn’t it? While I am sitting with high society at a birthday party and being served, elsewhere the barricades are burning, elsewhere violence is taking place. Mauritania is a country of contradictions, or a country of parallel realities. And I have the luck, the chance, the responsibility to get to know different realities.