The author is a historian, sociologist, writer and retired teacher from the University of Quebec at Chicoutimi in the history, sociology, anthropology, political science and international cooperation programs. His research focuses on collective imaginations.
Born in Senegal (Dakar), Amadou comes from a poor family of twelve children where education did not go far. But everyone recognized his extraordinary talents. At the cost of many sacrifices, family and relatives pushed him towards studies and, as had been hoped, he enjoyed great success. His father was proud of his son. Gifted too, he had to drop out of school. He therefore put his hope on Amadou.
The son wanted to go further and applied for a scholarship to study in France. He got it. He went, intimidated, to a ministerial office in Dakar to receive his scholarship. It was the senior education official himself who took charge of it, but only after taking “his share”, as was the custom. Amadou was getting to know an aspect of his country that he did not know and which made him indignant. Refusing to comply with the merry-go-round, he gave up the scholarship.
However, he managed to continue his studies in Senegal. A few years later, still dreaming of a doctorate in Europe, he embarked on the same process which ended in the same way. He was revolted, and despite everything proud of his gesture.
He persisted and finally was admitted to the prestigious ERASMUS program managed by the European Union and reserved for the cream of students. He therefore found himself in France, carrying in his luggage a deep antipathy for his country, of which he felt betrayed.
He began his studies in statistics. He explains to me that he had chosen a “pure” science, far removed from the “social” intrigues that had so disgusted him. He worked under the direction of an attentive teacher who knew how to perceive his talent. He was advancing rapidly. But bad luck caught up with him again, this time in the form of a bureaucratic mishmash which he understood nothing of but which forced him to return home.
It was another hard test. And he did not keep only good memories of France where, for the first time, he had experienced racism. He saw himself constantly marginalized (“I didn’t feel good as a human being”). He was also angry that French teachers spoke to him in English.
Unhappy, he therefore found himself back in Senegal. Unhappy, but tenacious and courageous. He managed to return to Europe, this time to the Netherlands, where he resumed his studies. Everything was fine, but once his internship was over, he had to leave. This time, he has resolved to “settle down” for good. But where to go? He remembered that at his primary school, the teacher had given the exercise of entering into correspondence with a foreign child. He had chosen Quebec. The exercise finally lasted two or three years with a little Quebecer. He thus learned many things about our society that he liked and that came back to his memory.
So he said to himself: this is my future homeland! That’s what happened. He managed to come to Quebec as an immigrant, he finished his doctorate in biostatistics at UQAM (with internships at the University of Montreal and McGill), then he married a Quebecer (lucky for once: a Saguenéenne…). They now have two children. Their mother insisted on giving them Senegalese first names so that they would maintain a relationship with their father’s country.
He now teaches at the University of Quebec at Chicoutimi. He is my office neighbor, he has become my friend. In fact, he became one before I knew him. Meeting him every day in the corridors, I was able to appreciate his kindness, his frank, smiling face, his joking side too. I understood the sympathy he arouses around him. His slender athletic height does not harm him.
He is very grateful to Quebec, where he is happy. He marvels at the contrast of the seasons, he loves Saguenay, maple syrup, blueberry pie and even our big meat pie (he’s tough). He says he has not experienced any episode of racism since his arrival in Quebec ten years ago, and neither have his children. He feels perfectly accepted, appreciated. It helps young Africans to integrate. His method is simple: reach out to others. He believes that a person becomes racist when he is afraid of the other; by going to meet it, one can disarm it.
He has become a true Quebecer. He practices self-mockery, he makes fun (cautiously) of his interlocutors, he loves Félix Leclerc, he has taken up skating, but he finds it very slippery. For the moment, he is mainly learning to fall (and if possible to get up).
He thinks things are easier in Quebec than in Europe. He says: “We see that you have already been colonized, you are more modest, nicer” (I refrain from contradicting him). He adds that he sees here more fairness, equality, cordiality. But he also observes that Quebec is different from Africa: the young speak a lot and the old, very little… In Senegal, he tells me, the old are considered wells of knowledge and wisdom. Young people listen and learn.
It’s nice to see him go. He spreads his good humor and enthusiasm everywhere. As if he had a big debt to repay.
What will he be doing on June 24? He will celebrate by “running” with his family to the Saint-Jean shows.