Here, the role of the archaeologist in restoring sound to those historical silences takes a psychoanalytic turn: a process like this involves a lot of trauma. In fact, friction is necessary when two contradictory narratives are brought to a head. Certainly this kind of past is preferable to the repressed kind, which quietly and insidiously does its damage in the present, especially when it’s done to marginalized groups without ever so much as a single line in the newspapers; but we must remember that learning from the past is a long, arduous struggle, one that rarely results in happy endings. Even so, Senegal’s comfortably quiet history has already done enough damage: A third of the population lives below the poverty line of $1.65 per day.
Although it may disaffect people in the present, working through the social tensions that archaeologists and historians uncover is an important part of Senegal’s ability to improve the lives of its next generation, to give its children the opportunity to lead better lives than their parents can now. In fact, it was archaeology’s unique ability to alter present realities that drew me to the discipline, and to Senegal, in the first place; but to make use of this ability, the archaeologist must not stop at analysis—he must approach the social and political domain.
The boys on the beach who helped refill our excavation site are a reminder that the work of archaeologists and other researches in Senegal will not resonate with the people if those same archaeologists and researchers do not include the Senegalese in their endeavors. All too often, research done in Senegal by outsiders disappears beyond its borders, never to become part of an intercultural exchange that includes the local people who have the most at stake with the conclusions of such research. If the hopes of an archaeologist are to construct a history that people will accept as legitimate, then archaeology in Senegal must accompany public outreach, something that seeks to involve the people in their own history and, perhaps, even inspire them to make their own careers out of it, like so many of the outsiders who now write Senegal’s history have done. Involving the Senegalese people in the exploration of their ancestors is the first step in making these same people interested in the history this research is seeking to uncover.
It is difficult for Senegalese students to make careers in archaeology in their own country, however. With limited funding, equipment, and schooling, trying to realize a career in archaeology can seem like a fruitless endeavor. The students who try and fail become high school-teachers; the few who do manage to succeed must move abroad for schooling, typically to the United States. Upon returning, they find that few jobs for archaeology exist in Senegal, so many of them choose to return to the United States where they can settle in academia. Professor Thiaw is one of the few such students who returned to Senegal after completing a PhD program in America; after he received his doctorate from Rice University, he became head of the Department of Archaeology at Dakar’s premier university, Cheikh Anta Diop University, and now serves as a mentor to budding archaeologists in his home country, encouraging them to make steps to broaden their knowledge by studying abroad.
Still, the reality remains stark: Many students never make it.
Recently, however, shifts in academic consideration on research undertaken in Africa have slightly nudged the floodgates a little closer to open. As this scholarship grows and begins to gain public attention, it is likely that aspiring archaeologists’ chances of success will increase as more universities fund projects, like the one in which I participated this past summer, that combine the efforts of both foreign scholars and indigenous peoples. As a contributor to archaeological research in Africa, I, and others like me, hope the work we do will enable the people living on the continent today, by revealing forgotten histories that they may use to work through the pain of the past, which bleeds into the present, and to transform current post-colonial realities.
Perhaps one day our work will reach those boys, who are still, I am sure, wandering along the beach, leaving anonymous footprints in the sand. Perhaps our work will inspire them to look at that beach a little differently and, one day, realize that they and it are part of the same thing: Senegal.
