Charity, Lizzy, and I received quite a welcome upon arriving in Senegal. We stepped off the plane into early, dark morning, cool air, but much warmer than Detroit. Going through customs took but moments. We had no need even for visas. With our American passports we entered the country freely and easily, and were greeted more than warmly.
In the short walk from customs to bag claim and then outdoors to find our taxi we got offer after offer after inquiry: “Do you need a taxi?” “Where are you from?” “Do you need to make a call?” “Can I help you carry that?” “What is your name?” Such friendly curiosity, we were overwhelmed.
At the World Social Forum, I found a play on “L’Immigration Clandestine.” Illegal Immigration. The play started with four men sneaking off to a fishing boat they were planning to take it from Senegal to Europe. Two other men played narrators, asking the migrating men what they were leaving and why, what they hoped to find, and imploring them to seek out alternatives that were safer and better for their families and country. There were five women also, who pleaded with the men to stay, to reconsider the danger of the journey, to remember their families, to truly see the hardship they would face once in Europe.
It was a beautiful play. The men were stubborn and frustrated with their lack of opportunity in Senegal, and clearly fearful of drowning on the journey. The women were broken hearted and left-behind, and the narrators wise. But it is treacherous to sail from Senegal to Europe in a fishing boat. The audience felt this, and all were afraid for the lives of these migrants.
Just weeks before leaving for Dakar and the World Social Forum a neighbor was picked up by ICE, and I wish the hearing I witnessed had been a play and not real life. He has two young children and a two month old baby who is sick. He had no lawyer, the judge was demeaning, and she questioned him on things he has every right to protect. Though he was under oath, he lied in answering her questions. He lied out of need to protect his family, and out of fear for what may yet happen to them.
Going back quickly to the men in the play, even if they had reached Italian beaches they would not have received the greeting that Lizzy, Charity, and I did. Their passports do not merit a warm welcome and easy passage. The inquiries that meet them will also send them home. They are overwhelmed with a country that fears them and a system that calls them illegal.
Being in both Detroit and Dakar, it is clear that migration is surrounded, even influenced, by fear. The simple acts of traveling, finding work, living life, are not in and of themselves threatening but done within the context of our immigration system can be costly and harmful. This system has been built on our need for control and out of fear of the “other.” The danger immigrants face, and the fear they are forced to live with is not their own, it is the welcome we give them so warmly.
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