Derek Hemenway, December 1996
for Dr. George Papagiannis, EDF 5897
Table of Contents
Introduction 2
A brief and general history of Islamic education 3
The beginnings of Islamic education in Senegal 5
Marabouts and the traditional Senegalese social order 7
The structure and function of traditional Senegalese Koranic schools 8
The colonial period and the rise of marabout power 10
Modernization, economic crisis, and social breakdown 13
Economic decline 13
Resulting societal trends 15
Modern conditions of the daras and the talibes 16
Economic liberalism and Islamic fundamentalism 17
Conclusion 19
References 21
Introduction
In the summer of 1992 I traveled to Senegal as a tourist with the ostensible reason of studying traditional music and dance. Instead, through observations, interactions, and discussions with the Senegalese, I was exposed to another way of life, often hard and trying; one which was based upon more responsibility than I had been accustomed to. I found myself particularly fascinated with the religious-social system, the Sufi-influenced version of Islam, and how its current permeated the everyday life of Senegalese society. It seemed to be a much different “Islamic” society than the militant ones harshly portrayed on American media. In fact, by comparison it seemed almost “soft”; at least the reflections of it I observed in everyday life did. It seemed more a way of accepting and dealing with whatever circumstances life had to offer rather than fighting or avoiding them, even in the face of difficult conditions of poverty. This attitude was also combined with a good dose of communal reliance on others’ help in times of need.
But I also observed ways in which this system was beginning to erode. Senegal seemed to be losing some of its collective patience. The combination of factors such as widespread poverty, mass unemployment, overcrowded conditions, and government failure seemed to be generating tension, especially among young people (Gellar, 1995, pp. 123-125). Although not yet to the extent found in industrialized countries, social problems such as crime, prostitution, drug use, juvenile delinquency, AIDS, family breakdown, and corruption seemed to be on the increase. It has taken me four years to begin to ask the questions of how and why: how has the Senegalese social system transformed from a traditional, communal, self-sufficient society to one that is becoming modern, yet fragmented and dependent upon foreign aid, and why? In this paper I attempt to respond to those questions by examing the situation on a micro-scale through the transformations in and subsequent decline of Senegal’s religious education system of Koranic schools.
A brief and general history of Islamic education
Any history of Koranic schools must trace their development ultimately back to the earliest beginnings of the religious systems of which they are the institutional bearers of, historical Islam and Sufism, and their founder, the Prophet Muhammad. During his time, the initial teachings of the religion -- the revealed scriptures, the Qur’an (lit. ‘recitation’) and the teachings or sayings of the Prophet, the hadith (lit. ‘traditions’) -- were memorized or written down on whatever was readily available by his followers (Arberry, 1950, pp. 12-13), usually known as “the companions” of the Prophet. Over time after his passing, out of references to the Qur’an and the hadith developed the exoteric religious sciences of Islam: religious law and jurisprudence, scholarly literacy in Arabic, theology; and simultaneously the beginnings of the esoteric sciences of Sufism: asceticism, mysticism, and self-purification (Kabbani, 1995, 1996). Thus outer formal Islam and the inner school of Sufism were intertwined from the start. In addition, with the Prophet’s command of “seek knowledge even if it be from China” (Arberry, 1950, p. 120), the value of learning was given an almost divine status. The great historic universities in Baghdad, Cairo, Fez, and later Timbuktu testify to the level of exoteric religious learning in formal medieval Islamic institutions, while in Sufism it was often the shaykhs, learned Muslim/Sufi holy men, who were responsible for dissemination and transmission of religious teachings. Often the shaykhs and the formal religious teachers were one and the same. An example of this can be found in al-Ghazali, perhaps the first to integrate the formal Islamic religious sciences with the esoteric practices of Sufism (Arberry, 1950, pp. 79-83). From the shaykhs came the tariqas, international “brotherhoods” which disseminated the esoteric sciences throughout the Muslim world. The teachings of each tariqa would be traceable through the silsilah, the line of succession that connected each member, through his or her shaykhs, with a tariqa’s founder and in turn their teachers, ultimately reaching back to the companions of the Prophet and the Prophet himself. At the local level, each brotherhood might be centered in mosque-schools (zawiyah), guest houses (khaniqah), or border-outposts (ribat) and supported by the local community or local governments. These centers provided spiritual instruction to the communities while also often providing services, food, and shelter. The teachings were passed down in a systematic fashion by the khalifas, i.e. successors, of each brotherhood’s original founder, again traceable to the Prophet and thus verifiable. Although not always formalized in institutional contexts, the tariqas often used a formal system of education. Students from each school might learn the exoteric religious sciences of and Islam as well as the esoteric sciences of Sufism. After long and intensive study and practice with one or more masters, students would graduate, often becoming religious, political, and community leaders (Arberry, 1950; Kabbani, 1996).
Muslim education had a spiritual but decisively political effect. Often political leaders would come from the ranks of graduates from Muslim/Sufi educational institutions. Schools often served as instruments of “political socialization” and centers for the selection and training of political elites (Fagerlind and Saha, 1989, pp. 126-131). This was especially the case for the universities, whereas the Sufi shaykhs and their teachings were sometimes considered unorthodox and even heretical (Arberry, 1950, p. 60), especially in later periods of Islamic history and up to the present.
The beginnings of Islamic education in Senegal
In the West African context, the Islamic-Sufi division historically seemed to be somewhat less pronounced. The rigorous medieval schools of Mali were charged with producing students who not only had a head “full” of knowledge, but also “well-made” in the sense of character and morality (Sanankoua, 1985, p. 359). Sanankoua decries the usage of the term “Koranic” for such schools, as only the elementary level was particularly aimed at simple learning of reading, writing, and memorizing the Qu’ran and was usually comprised of younger students. The young learners at this stage concentrated on learning to read rather than to understand, and often at the completion of the elementary level the children would leave school and resume life with their parents (Sanankoua, 1985, p. 360; Sanneh, 1979, p. 155). If the student/disciple was allowed to continued further, he would graduate to the Ilm (divine knowledge) school and be initiated into the higher studies of religious exegesis and commentary. Sanneh (1979) states the account of Blyden, an European explorer in the late 1800’s who described one Koranic institution in Sierra Leone as “the Oxford of this region -- where are collected over 500 men studying Arabic and Koranic literature” and another nearby institution as being “of great literary repute” (p. 176). Such two track schools are still found among the Jakhanke clerical tradition of the Senegambia to this day (pp. 154-155).
The introduction of Islam into areas such as Mali and especially Senegal, beginning in approximately the twelfth century, was conducted through a variety of means, including both forcible and peaceful propagation, but was often done by shaykhs or clerics (possibly trained at schools such as those mentioned above) who appeared assuming roles of traders, merchants, and farmers while simultaneously acting as teacher/missionaries (Sanneh, 1979; Colvin, 1986; O’Brien 1971). In the Senegambia region, the social stature of the clerics, or marabouts, began to increase as time went by and the popularity of and familiarity with Islam increased. They came to be known for their religious and scholarly learning as well as for their religious healing and magical powers which came from a combination of Islamic and often pre-Islamic practices. Often they might be called upon to perform a variety of roles in addition to those above, such as priests (imam), judges (qadi), magicians, and primarily religious teachers (O’Brien, 1971, p. 24). One European explorer of the 1600s stated that “the marabouts make their living by showing how to read and write the Koran” (p. 24). In general, they were held in high esteem and sometimes in awe by both Muslim and non-Muslim, due to their literacy, intellectual knowledge, and magical powers, but also for their examples of piety, integrity, honesty, and humility. Their esteem and mystery was further strengthened by the fact that much of the population, although perhaps accepting and professing Islam, may have had limited scholarly ability for, access to, or interest in pursuing the higher forms of religious knowledge and remained attached to traditional religious beliefs; thus the marabouts also held a monopoly over religious learning and its ascribed status characteristics (O’Brien, 1971; Colvin, 1986).
Marabouts and the traditional Senegalese social order
Senegal’s pre-colonial social structures were for the most part hierarchical, like that of that of the dominant ethnic group, the Wolof. Highly stratified, their society was organized into caste-like classes; at the top were the kings and the associated royalty, followed by the freeborn nobility, peasants, artisans and musicians, and finally the slaves. The royal slave/soldiers were a special class, for although they were slaves under a certain king, they could through their support as a group determine who would be in power. It should be noted also that mobility was possible over generations and individuals in lower castes often enjoyed better living conditions than their free counterparts who were dependent upon farming, while the conditions of slaves were usually much less harsh than those of slaves in the New World (O’Brien, 1971; Colvin, 1986; Gellar, 1995).
In this system the marabouts had a somewhat ambiguous standing. Colvin (1986) and O’Brien (1971) note that as farmer/teachers, they were not of the lower artisan or slave castes, nor were they of the ruling castes, yet they had a mutually reciprocal relationship with the royals, who granted land and other provisions for the marabout’s estate and school in turn for the services mentioned above. Their students were usually recruited from the ruling classes, the nobles, and other free classes, and from only some of the artisan classes -- musicians and praise-singers were often not accepted -- perhaps unless they changed occupations, as their professions were considered “dishonorable and useless to society” (Colvin, 1986, p. 60).
In describing the Wolof, Colvin (1986) notes the societal emphasis placed upon the household rather than the individual, especially in terms of accumulation. The more people connected with it, the stronger the associated family, household, or kingdom. In turn, the heads of each organization would be expected to provide for their dependents, who might withdraw allegiance if not provided for. The marabouts were no exception to this process. Slaves, women, children, and young men might be exchanged or presented as gifts, and marabouts might receive them as alms -- although not the slave/soldiers, as marabouts were “sworn to pacifism” (p. 59). As an act of piousness, children were often given or perhaps loaned by a family who hoped to gain blessings as well as education for the child.
The structure and function of traditional Senegalese Koranic schools
In fact, as Colvin (1986) emphasizes, the main element of a marabout’s “holdings” were his talibes, or disciples/students, usually in their early adolescence, although there were often adult disciples. Talibes were normally in residence with a marabout, although some, such as the adults, were independent. In later times and up to the present, especially in the urban areas, children might remain with their parents but pursue full-time study with the marabout. Talibes were accepted by the marabouts under a conditional contract with their parents with the understanding that the parents would provide payments or gifts at the end of the child’s education. Or if the child were to continue on to higher learning, he might finance his own education through continued work on the marabout’s estate (Sanneh, 1979; Colvin, 1986).
Upon presenting a student, a father might tell a marabout “I want either the Qur’an or his corpse”, meaning that he did not want to see his son alive until he had learned the Qur’an by heart (Colvin, 1986, p. 60). In fact, “the [talibe] belonged body and soul to the [marabout]; he frequently worked a full day in the fields, studying only at dawn and in the evening and begging in the village for food” (Ibid.) This rigorous lifestyle in itself is not in opposition to the practices of Islam and Sufism, and in fact is quite in line with the ascetic practices alluded to above. Also, it symbolizes a central teaching of both systems, the Prophet’s emphasis on jihad, or personal struggle against the ego in striving for self-purification and redemption (Arberry, 1950, p. 75). The relationship between the marabout and the talibe is also reflective of the classic master-disciple relationship in Sufism and in other religions, based on mutual trust and religious code in which “the teacher’s acceptance is the nearest thing to divine acceptance” (Sanneh, 1979, p. 164); obedience and incessant striving must be constantly present on the part of the disciple, with the promise of salvation by the instruction and intercession (through the lineage) of the master. Moreover, the disciple’s effort was required in proving himself worthy, humble, and responsible enough to receive the powerful religious and mystical sciences. Nonetheless, if a marabout was given an economic as well as religious hold over the talibes, he could be seen to have a powerful position possibly conducive to exploitation. Strict codes emanating from the Qu’ran and the Prophet’s injunction of taking care of the poor, the sick, and the orphans, however, guarded against such tactics as long as they were observed.
At the end of his specified education, a student would be returned to his parents through the “conditional sale” (p. 164) agreed upon at the initiation of the marabout-talibe relationship. If the parents were not able to pay, the marabout would return the child with the agreement that the parents would pay once they had money, or as mentioned above, the talibes might remain working with the marabout a long as he deemed necessary (p. 155, 160).
Thus the talibes were at the marabouts’ service. As indicated above, the primary activity for the talibes other than Quranic learning was farming. In return for schooling the marabout was guaranteed a large labor supply for his fields, the primary source from which he derived sustenance and wealth for himself, his dependents, and his talibes (Colvin, 1986; Sanneh, 1979). This work, combined with the literary Quranic teaching, completed the institution of the dara, the marabout’s school, as the hard agricultural labor required of the talibes was itself an integral part of the school’s overall teachings for the reasons mentioned above. Overall the daras were seen as a “temporary hardship” (O’Brien, 1971, p. 175) necessary for the proper moral, spiritual, and educational development of young men in preparation for their roles in society. As the majority of the male population participated in the daras to some degree, they increasingly became a fixture of Senegalese life (Knight, 1994, pp. 60-61, 71).
The colonial period and the rise of marabout power
The beginnings of the colonial period saw vast changes in the structure of Senegalese society. French and British warfare in the region coincided with the latter stage of a militant Islamic movement in Northwestern Senegal that had begun in the late 1700’s. Through warfare and religious proselytism, the militant Muslim leaders attempted to undermine the traditional social hierarchy, drawing supporters from the lower castes and alienating the upper and ruling classes. By the time the French began military campaigns to take the region in the 1850’s , the strength of the traditional “pagan” kings (who often referred to themselves as Muslims) had been weakened. Through battles against both the militant Muslim forces and those of the pagan kings’, the French gained control over Senegal within three decades (O’Brien, 1971, p. 13-15; Gellar, 1995, p. 5-6).
At the same time two international Sufi tariqas, the Tijaniyya and the Qadiriyya, increasingly gained followers through peaceful transmission. As a consequence of the efforts of the previous militant Muslim leaders, the French invasion, and the subsequent dissolution of the Wolof royalty and the former feudal social system, the displaced masses looked to the marabouts for spiritual and secular guidance. Most notable of these were perhaps the two esteemed Sufi holy men, the Qadiri marabout Chiekh Ahmadou Bamba and the Tijani marabout El Hadji Malick Sy, upon whom the responsibility of leadership in creating a replacement for the old king-subject social relations was placed (Gellar, 1995, p.7; O’Brien, 1971, p. 14-15). Popular legend suggests that a “passing of the torch” occurred in a counseling session between Lat Dior, the last Damel or Wolof king who was also a partially converted Muslim, and his teacher/marabout Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, on the night of the former’s defeat and death in battle at the hands of the French (O’Brien, 1971, p. 13). O’Brien (p. 15) notes the “extent of the social need” for such a system from the fact that in 1886, the year of the French defeat of Lat Dior, Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba’s dara/school had only a few pupils, while by 1912 it had become a new tariqa, the Mourides, consisting of around 70,000 members. At first the French opposed such conflicting interests, as evidenced in the two exiles of Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, but the marabouts were primarily interested working with the French not in conflict, and by World War I the French and the brotherhoods seemed to have made their peace (O’Brien, 1971, pp. 15, 25-28; Gellar, 1995, p. 7).
A peace with the French, however, by no means meant assimilation. The marabouts actively discouraged their followers from adopting Western ways and encouraged the followers to be engaged in spiritual practices. Marabouts were, however, also increasingly active in colonial politics and economics, encouraging their talibes to cultivate peanuts, the main cash crop for the French; for their economic efforts the brotherhoods were in turn rewarded with of land grants (occasionally to the detriment of other members of society, such as the pastoralists) and other provisions with which they could finance their organizations (Gellar, 1995, p. 11-12).
The spread of formal Koranic schools during the colonial period increased, mainly through the efforts of the Tijaniyya and to a lesser degree the Qadiriyya, while the Mourides developed daras with more emphasis on the work ethic than on literary Quranic studies. In fact, O’Brien (1971, pp. 163-187) tells of quite arduous conditions in the Mouride daras of the early 1900’s. Perhaps to the dishonor of their austere and ascetic founder who passed away in 1927, the Mouride marabouts and leaders began to be known for their materialism as evidenced in the first successor, a son of the founder, who lived in a European house, had sixty legal wives and owned a luxurious Chrysler (p. 62). Such wealth was of course gained through their talibes efforts. In a sense the Mouride marabouts began to replace the former Wolof kings, while their followers “paid tribute”.
Tijaniyya and Qadiriyya daras, by contrast, were and still are perhaps more reminiscent of the traditional daras, “that of a place of learning rather than a site of agricultural activity” (p. 164), except they often became established in semi-urban areas. Tijaniyya communities and zawiyahs were often located in towns along railway lines where, in addition to accumulating wealth through trade, marabouts would recruit members from the lower castes who had escaped to the towns (Abun-Nasr, 1965, p. 146; Colvin, 1986, p. 64). Abun-Nasr (p. 147) mentions the formation of organizations among the Tijaniyya leaders during the 1950’s for furthering the construction of Koranic schools. Gellar describes how after independence, the Tijaniyya promoted the spread of Koranic schools in the region of Thies and set up schools for girls, “a marked departure from past traditions of reserving education for the boys.” (Gellar, 1995, p. 113).
As the marabouts gained economic power, they also began to take an interest in political activity, especially when their interests were threatened. They were not very supportive of independence at this time either, as they felt it could prove harmful to their business enterprises, peanut cultivation and otherwise, cooperatively undertaken with the French. After independence, marabouts became increasingly more powerful in determining the outcomes of national elections (Delgado & Jammeh, 1991, p. 6).
Modernization, economic crisis, and social breakdown
Economic decline
With independence from the French in 1960, Senegal moved into the realm of competing in the global economy, with only the peanut as major commodity. Peanuts accounted for 78% of total exports, and took up more than 50% of all farmed land (Somerville, 1991, p. 151). Moreover, Senegal had an extreme economic, political, and social “neocolonial” dependency upon France. The government during the 1960’s under the first president, Leopold Senghor, continued a neocolonial economic relationship while implementing an internal socialist system, through mechanisms such as the Animation Rurale, including rural power structure democratization and the creation of cooperatives, and economic services and subsidizing for farmers. By the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, however, the rural development initiative was successful mainly for the elite, (even with the later diversification of agricultural cultivation to included rice, millet, and corn) as peasants paid for the costs through market fluctuations and artificial control of crop prices. Along with reoccurring drought and the withdrawal of French peanut farming subsidies the Senegalese economic condition worsened. During the 1970’s Senghor’s administration tried to break out of agricultural and neocolonial dependency patterns through increased industrialization, nationalization (“Senegalization”), and government involvement in the private sector, and increased bureaucratization in the public sector, and turned to the multilateral lending agencies and the Arab states’ “oil” money for support. But by the late 1970’s the economy was almost bankrupt. With the appearance of Abdou Diouf and other younger “technocrats” in Senghor’s administration, the government began to contemplate approaching the international financial institutions to discuss the restructuring of the economy (Gellar, 1995, pp. 62-72, Delgado and Jammeh, 1991, p. 6-7).
In the 1980’s, the government gave in to IMF and World Bank pressure to adopt economic recovery and structural adjustment plans. A series of debt rescheduling or cancellation resulted due to Senegal’s inability to pay up, but with the further governmental adoption of donor policies as a condition for further loans (Gellar, 1995, p. 62-72; Somerville, 1991, p. 155-156). The policies reflected the current global trends of economic liberalization and privatization -- Diouf’s slogan was “smaller government, better government” (Gellar, 1995, p. 72), echoing the classic tenet of American conservatives. Unfortunately, the main way in which structural adjustments achieved reductions in government expenditures was by cutting social services and decreasing the large public sector, resulting in massive lay-offs (Somerville, 1991, p. 157, Gellar, 1995, pp. 74-75, Knight, 1994, p. 16). In the rural areas privatization negatively impacted farmers by reducing government subsidies, leading to lack of credit, lack of affordable and accessible equipment, transport, and fertilizer” (Weisman, 1990, p. 1628). Perhaps because of these impacts and dissatisfaction from other constituents, the Diouf administration played with the foreign donor agencies as plans were often implemented slowly if at all. At one point the government even reinstated the subsidization of fertilizer, to the dismay of the lending institutions (Gellar 1995, p. 72-73).
Resulting societal trends
The economic decline of the country had perhaps obvious effects. Combined with reoccurring droughts, a process started during colonialism magnified as former communal societies functioning with solidarity as a way of life found themselves disintegrating. In the rural areas the traditional interdependency of villagers and the system of bartering broke down. Traditional heads of families or villages found themselves unable to provide for their dependents and the process of labor migration, formerly only during the dry season, changed into emigration. As younger individuals found themselves without any livelihood, they looked to modern values (often contrary to traditional norms and values) to provide alternative lifestyles and began to move to the cities (Knight, 1994, pp. 51-80). One young urban resident describes the situation:
“Back then, the country didn’t have a lot of people; they were helping each other, but now, if we have a drought, families may not be able to take care of themselves. A lot of the kids leave and go to the cities. The younger generation doesn’t want to do agriculture [farming], they all want to come to the city, work there as bus drivers, mechanics. Even the economy is different now. Engrais [fertilizer] is more expensive, and the government buys the produce for a very small price -- so they don’t have benefits, those people who live on the farm, for next year. They try to sell a little, keep some to eat, and keep some seeds for next year’s crop” (anonymous personal communication, December 15, 1996).
Somerville (1991) explores the social impacts of modernization and the debt crisis on the urban population in the capital city of Dakar. She notes that the prevailing attitude among Senegalese in Dakar towards the crisis is negative. Respondents often found impacts on society and culture as causing a “degradation of family and friendship ties”, “individualistic and opportunistic behavior”, and “decline in tradition and solidarity”. A common response was that “we can’t make ends meet...” resulting in a “decline in morality”. One woman responded “Life is hard and women are taking up bad habits [prostitution]. It’s a question of survival” (p. 162). Others noted an increase in “promiscuity and alcoholism as a result of stress due to the crisis” (p. 166).
Modern conditions of the daras and the talibes
In urban areas the daras and Koranic schools met with new conditions. Talibes might begin to question their loyalty to their marabout due to environmental factors such as their remote locations and new independence. This perhaps primarily occurred among the Mourides, as the Tijani marabouts were often already in the towns and cities (O’Brien, 1971, p. 238). A more severe change, also found in other West African Islamic societies (Ojanunga, 1990) is occurring in the form of exploitation of talibes by their so-called marabouts. With the breakdown of social and economic support for schooling in rural areas, many marabouts are moving their daras to the cities. It is not uncommon for talibes to live in poor conditions with most of their time devoted to begging for support for themselves and their daras, but with little time spent on traditional Quranic learning. Ironically, the children of such daras often come from poor families or are orphans (Diouf-Kamara, 1995; Ojanunga, 1990; O’Brien, 1971, pp. 250-251). An anonymous interviewee informed me that both popular songs and movies portraying the plight of the talibes have been made in Senegal.
With the fundamentalist Islamic reform movement on the rise in Senegal as an added crisis, the traditional sacred religious code and discipline of the marabouts has begun to decline and results in a loss of legitimacy of the teachings in the schools, which now may be increasingly relegated to the role of propagating and preserving only the partial outer form of an ancient tradition (O’Brien, 1971, p. 250). Sanankoua (1985, p. 365) sums up the state of similar affairs in Mali:
“the effects of the drought, the economic crisis, and inflation all together dismantle the religion and keep people from enrolling their children in a school which doesn’t guarantee their future. A general laxity of the discipline of the marabouts has come about. Those who were once societal examples of piety, integrity, honesty, and humility today compromise themselves with political power which never respects the sharia [divine law and code of morals] and mixes with all of the great scandals: adultery [infidelity], swindling, charlatanery, drugs [alcohol]...which means that we have detoured more and more from that which the schools were meant to bring alive...”
Economic liberalism and Islamic fundamentalism
In developing a theoretical framework for the decline of Senegalese society and the institution of Koranic schools, two ideologies that have reached global status must be examined: economic liberalism as a cause, and Islamic fundamentalism as a reactionary solution gaining increased popularity. Teeple (1995) graphically discusses the emergence of neo-liberal economic and political policies which, starting in the West, gained popularity worldwide with international lending institutions, who in turn influenced or forced the adoption of such policies upon their client governments in developing countries. The main stated goal of these policies is to revive internal economies by internationalizing domestic markets. This is achieved through mechanisms such as free trade zones, privatization of the public sector. The larger unstated function of such policies is the creation of a global system of internationalized capital and supranational institutions which in effect restricts capital accumulation to a wealthy few.
“the introduction of neo-liberal policies is the consequence of this triumph [over the working classes]. The policies are intended to surmount the impingements to economic growth presented by national social and economic reforms and political access to the state. They are designed to minimize the effects of an organized working class, a “democratic” national state, and a large public sector, and to allow capital to prevail across national boundaries without restraint. Without these or other reforms and restrictions, the production, exchange, and distribution of goods and services will take place in the form of unmitigated relations.” (Teeple, 1995, p. 142)
A consequence of these actions are the decline in state’s concern for social reform, as was the case in Senegal. Moreover, alternative strategies for retaining self-sufficiency and solidarity deteriorate, as Teeple (p. 148) notes: “many of the traditional social and political means of resistance to the depredations of capital are failing because the conditions for their existence are disappearing.” Perhaps the icing on the cake was made in January 1994, when Senegal, after prolonged resistance, gave into donor and neighboring governmental pressure for the 50 percent devaluation of the CFA (pronounced ‘say-fah’), the French West African unit of currency (Gellar 1995, p. 65, 74, 79). The rationale given to Senegal for the devaluation was to increase export competitiveness (and thus agricultural production), and tourism, but further social and economic hardships are expected, as it has doubled the foreign debt (p. 64), and has raised internal prices with no corresponding rises in salaries. A large amount of skepticism surrounds the devaluation, an attitude of “deja vu”. As one young man from Dakar put it, “it’s no good taking tough measures if you cripple the very people you need to get things moving...” (Knight, 1994, p. 16).
The other main factor in the decline of the quality and popularity of Senegal’s Koranic schools is the rise of so-called “orthodox” reformist Islamic ideology which has throughout history often cast a threatening gaze towards Sufi teachings. Two currents occur: one a radical militant movement marked by intolerance of other beliefs and religions, which has made some inroads in Southern Senegal; the other a reformist puritanical doctrine being spread since the last century from Saudi Arabia and the Middle East. The first trend could both threaten the authority of the state and the marabouts, while the second has often been responsible for purging Sufi societies of any beliefs contrary to conservative dogma, and spreads mainly through institutional interaction (Gellar, p. 109, 114, 143; Kabbani, 1995; Sanankoua, 1985).
Conclusion
In this discussion I have tried to emphasize what I consider the original nature of Koranic education, which was to not only impart interest in and techniques for acquiring scholarly knowledge but was also to inculcate the moral and spiritual development of the student conducive to civilized behavior as doctrines circumscribed in the religion dictated. In the case of Senegal, over time through internal and external forces as described above, changes in society and the institution’s organization and function occurred, which although not always detrimental, have served to weaken the system’s original mission. On a positive note, however, I place unlimited confidence in humanity’s ability to adapt to changing and sometimes hostile conditions those values which cannot be destroyed. In the case of Koranic schooling, Sufism, and other traditions being eroded or losing value in the “old world”, perhaps the Prophet’s prediction that “the sun will rise in the West” takes on new meaning, as ironically many Westerners have begun to find solace and meaning in those very sacred traditions.
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Epilogue A father and and his young son were fishing at the beach, when the son noticed the pools of water formed on the beach did not have the same strength as the mighty ocean. He inquired his father as to why this was so, and was told that the pools had been taken from their place of strength where they belonged. “You see”, said the father, “we people are the same: when you are with your family and village, you are strong, but if you are separated off by yourself, you become weak... -- a traditional Wolof story (anonymous)