Africa is not for the faint of heart

It is the glaring light, the muggy midday heat, and the reddish desert dust that pours over the villages and towns from the north in these first weeks of February immediately after the recent military coup in Burkina Faso.

Alle Fotos: Helena Waldmann

02.03.2022

Dance in Africa is more daring than elsewhere. Because no one helps no one. People also like to say: Africa is not for sausages. Because there is no funding, no insurance, hardly any audience. And yet the dance scene is professionalizing with giant strides. That’s why, when you visit Burkina Faso, you experience more than just drought and jihadists. You also experience the freedom that it means to make art here.

Arnd Wesemann

The heat feels so paralyzing, as if paralysis were another word for peace. In Bobo-Dioulasso, guests attending the small “In and Out” dance festival organized by the local company Tamadia sit under colorful cloths. You look around, searching, and soon realize that the company consists of a single person, Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou, who has impressively managed to receive the local consul and the ambassador of neighboring Ghana with full honors in the garden of the Villa Rose private hotel in front of the assembled artistic community.

In the midst of the military coup, the two Excellencies have come to remind us of the close, longstanding ties between Ghana and Burkina Faso. It seems as if they are mourning the old days when Thomas Sankara tried to steer the destiny of Burkina Faso along a socialist path in the 1970s as the “Che Guevara of Africa.” He was fully supported in these endeavors by J.J. Rawlings, the then very similarly minded and acting president of Ghana, which borders Burkina Faso to the south. If you enter one of the city’s few restaurants, such as the DanKan or the Mandé, after talking to their Excellencies, you will encounter hundreds of wise sayings from these two former presidents on the walls. The leaders of yesteryear continue to be revered as the true friends of the common man and the poor woman, in whose service they wanted to put their revolutionary spirits to work.

There has also always been a strong Islamic presence – an ancient clay mosque is considered the main tourist attraction in Bobo-Dioulasso. At the time the building was constructed, however, the aggressive Islamism financed by Saudi-Arabia and Qatar, which as an authoritarian force seems to represent the exact opposite of a freedom-minded Africa, was nonexistent. On this sunny morning, their Excellencies also try to catch a glimpse of the hardships experienced by the arts through the lens of the dance festival. Whenever the guests – choreographers from neighboring Ghana, Nigeria, and Togo – express their desires in words that could have been uttered by the two long-dead rulers from beyond the grave: “dare to show more solidarity with one another,” “facilitate better training,” “allow for more freedom,” “network more,” they always respond with understanding. It is no coincidence that these are terms that are well understood by the European Union – an entity that is of crucial importance for this festival, from a financial perspective at least.

“Share” is a magic word that Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou enunciates as if it were highlighting his already extremely charming smile. It’s also the name of a Western organization that helps pay for his festival: “Share; creative powers of art” is an initiative subsidized by the EU’s “Creative Europe” program to the tune of almost 200,000 euros. Starting with the “Exodos” festival in Ljubljana, this initiative first had to identify its European partners in France, Hungary, and Spain before it was finally allowed to collaborate with partners in Africa: not with the Ministry of Culture in Burkina Faso, mind you, but with the local Ministry of Sport and Recreation as well as several soccer clubs in Bobo-Dioulasso. This is the standard procedure in case nobody in Burkina Faso is familiar with contemporary dance and everybody wonders who should be responsible. In case of doubt, it’s about youth and sports.

The company Tamadia from Bobo-Diolassou in a choreography by Valerie Green from New York

There is not a single public dance venue in Bobo-Dioulasso. Yet Burkina Faso is extremely well known for its internationally successful dance artists. Serge-Aimé Coulibaly, who grew up in this city, excelled in Brussels under Alain Platel and Sidi-Larbi Cherkaoui, and still manages a private venue in Bobo-Dioulasso that – funded from his touring income, managed from Brussels – is revered worldwide. Former Béjart dancer Irène Tasssembédo, who upon her return from Europe founded the “Festival International de Danse de Ouagadougou” in the capital some 350 kilometers away, has been known for decades, as has the dancing couple Salia Sanou and Seydou Boro, who, after countless performances all over the world, now run a venue in Ouagadougou called La Termitière (The Termite Mound) and, among other things, are also committed to helping the countless refugees from the West African region.

“Share” – he uses the word at every opportunity – is his dream: He doesn’t mean stock shares or car sharing, because those only work for wealthy people. He means sharing in the sense of sharing the cake. One cake for everyone. What applies in every family should also apply in the arts. And he has some really good ideas. Because there are no theaters and no rehearsal rooms, it would make sense to make classrooms available to a dance initiative in the evenings, when the schools are deserted. In return, students would learn more body awareness through dance classes in the mornings. Costs for both sides (school and dance initiative): none.

Why doesn’t it work, the “African solution” – a simple, pragmatic, completely win-win solution? Should the Europeans help him out? Not necessarily. School principals in Africa don’t allow a conference of education ministers to dictate which trend they should follow, simply because there is no conference of education ministers in the country. There aren’t even enough schools. Instead, for example in the Burkinabè village of Kamsaongtenga, there is a small, private initiative launched by French theater anthropologist Sylvie Chalaye. Together with local university lecturer Issiaka Tiendrebeogo, she has built a small school with the grand name “Place of New Ideas” for the equivalent of 4,600 euros to familiarize children with the theater as well as teaching them basic knowledge.

This idea is somewhat similar to Christoph Schlingensief’s famous opera village near the town of Ziniare, also located in Burkina Faso. This, too, is a European initiative, which is often described as meaningful because, according to Western conviction, education and health must be established before culture and art can even become possible. However, this belief, which is the fruit of a deeply rooted humanistic mindset, simply does not reflect African reality. For if such a theory were true and certain conditions always had to be established first through education, healthcare and in the form of buildings, infrastructure and training before culture could even exist, there could hardly be all the African dances, masks and musical styles that have influenced the whole world – from jazz dance to cubism to polyrhythmic music.

It is worth listening more closely to Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou. The question is: Why isn’t it possible to establish a real dance scene here despite the many talents in this city? The answer: “Everybody wants to, but nobody does, because it is part of our mentality that we have never fought for solidarity but always for our individuality.”

And wisely, he adds: “The difficulty of changing people is determined by the circumstances in which they have grown up.” The white people who helpfully support his festival are called “Tubabu” in Burkina Faso, which means “doctor” in the local Bambara language. The white people want to help, but as with all doctors, the help offered is sometimes in vain. Aguibou lost two sons in the hospitals of the city when they were still very young – and he almost killed one doctor from anger and grief. “Tubabu” are a double-edged sword for him. In his eyes, white people often only help because they suffer from helper syndrome. But if the Europeans and the dance educators from Slovenia and Spain drafting a memorandum and signing it under the colorful roof of the tent while surrounding their Excellencies from Ghana so that Europe or China or the USA or whoever may assert their own interests in Burkina Faso under the guise of such aid can be of any help: Go ahead! Aguibou suspects that any political decisions made will certainly have nothing to do with dance or art – as is so often the case.

But at least something is happening. The coup d’état immediately triggered a wild longing for a coup d’art among some of those involved in the dance festival. A coup of the arts. That would be just the thing! In the middle of Africa, in the middle of a Muslim country, a dance school could be established somewhere among the countless wooden stalls along the unlit, dusty streets of the city, where an entire nation is watching the finals of the Africa Cup – that great continental soccer event – just to be able to joke about the latest European attempt to help “Africa on an equal footing” after the evening news the next day. In the case of Burkina Faso, the pot contains 700,000 million euros that no one has negotiated for with this country and that no one is claiming. Why?

Why is the EU’s “Creative Europe” program investing 200,000 euros in a non-existent infrastructure for dance based solely on the declaration of will of some European cultural professionals? As usual, Europe would certainly rather invest in the fight against cancer and malaria, since Burkina Faso visibly suffers from a significantly increased mortality rate. Old people are rarely seen. 85 percent of the population are less than 30 years old. There is no cancer screening. Instead, there are claims that a variety of fungus has infested the grain that supposedly causes hepatitis. People therefore want to buy and grow fungus-resistant grains – but since there are European restrictions on the export of such varieties due to patent law there, Europeans would once again have the upper hand. As unlikely as the connection between any actual fungal infestation of the grain and the high cancer mortality rate may be, Europe and the helpfulness emerging from its colonial shadow is increasingly perceived as a bogeyman rather than as a clever investor in a win-win situation.

There are hardly any European traces to be discovered here – even in the streetscape: millions of motor scooters, solar panels, and refrigerators, all sourced from Asia. Trade with China in particular has made numerous citizens of Bobo-Dioulasso rich. They in turn help the enterprising Aguibou, for example by inviting him to organize dance performances for their business partners in their private villas. The imam has his Tamadia company perform in front of the famous mosque after Friday prayer – at prime time, so to speak. Bazaar merchants ask for a performance in the center of the bazaar. It’s all give and take – this time on a footing that is actually equal. That, Aguibou says, gives him hope for the future of dance in this rattling, bustling hot city of Bobo-Dioulasso. Here as everywhere in Africa, dance is about constant negotiation and balancing, a communicative process in the exchange of such intangible products. And, of course, it is also about favors, bartering, settling debts so that neither side loses face. The Europeans call this corruption. They make sure that Africa loses face, as Aguibou has experienced himself.

As always, his worst critics come from within his own ranks. While the European delegation, together with other African dance makers, festival organizers, event venue managers, is still trying to draft a memorandum in order to fulfill its self-imposed mandate vis-a-vis the EU bureaucrats, a major dispute ensues. Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou is openly attacked by the cultural professionals of his city: They say he dared to make a solo effort, found European clients without authorization to push ahead in a cultural scene that, in this place the same size as Hanover, is naturally easily manageable, not to say tiny.

A married couple runs the pale reflection of “Les Bamboos” here, a stage without a roof, once a center of world music that rewarded performing musicians with recording contracts in Japan, the U.S., and Europe by the dozen. They are fuming. They still perceive themselves as the culture makers of this city. But they don’t show dance in their club. Especially not now. They say it is the stage for legends like Seydou Diabaté dit Kanazoé and his balafon (a type of xylophone) orchestra, the undisputed star of the local music scene. Serge-Aimé Coulibaly, the internationally successful dance master from Bobo-Dioulasso, now also takes the floor to show everyone who is the true patriarch of the arts in this place.

Serge-Aimé Coulibaly’s radiant smile outshines even that of Aguibou. He is the master who, in 2002, shortly after founding his own Faso Dance Company, appeared on Europe’s stages with the greats of that time – under Alain Platel (in “Wolf,” 2003) and soon after with Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui (in “Tempus Fugit,” 2004) – and received much acclaim when he worked with First Nations dancers from the Marrukegu Company in Australia (for example, in “Burning Daylight,” 2009). Undeniably, he is a king who never misses an opportunity to show what can actually be achieved in Bobo-Dioulasso: His own private rehearsal stage and theater have sprung up on the outskirts of town – a stage at its finest, innovative by European standards, both in terms of the recycled tire rubber dance floor and the biennial “Simply the Best” competition Coulibaly launched, in which the audience votes to select the best dancers in the country. He has also set up his own foundation, called Ankata, which provides microloans for the neighborhood, English language courses for the dancers, mental coaching, workshops, and, of course, dance training – everything Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou can only dream of. And now, to add the straw that breaks the African camel’s back, the king announces unapologetically that in February of all months, the month in which Aguibou’s festival has been happening for years, he and Aguibou’s former teacher Salia Sanou, “will jointly organize a large dance and music and theater festival in Bobo-Dioulasso.” Without Aguibou Bougobali-Sanou, of course.

With an appeasing gesture, the latter thanks his critics, who preferred to slap him in the face not behind the scenes but in the middle of his show and in front of an international audience. Africa is not for the faint of heart. He parries with an even more disarming smile. That’s how it’s done in Africa, where no one thinks much of solidarity but where everyone immediately shows each other how strong the competition really is. Later, Coulibaly explains that this was not malice but mere proof of how difficult it would be in Africa to bring dance professionals together: “This will only be possible with a great deal of trust, one-on-one talks, persuasion, and a certain authority. After all, it is primarily the ego of the artists that allows them to survive – an ego that is geared towards competition and tends to prevent collaboration.” This complicated field is not something he wants to abandon to this greenhorn. He says he is convinced that the collaboration with the famous dance couple Salia Sanou and Seydou Boro is also particularly important “to generate a greater audience and garner more attention. Do we really have to bring along anyone who can dance? No, we don’t. I simply had to defend myself, because I am also constantly being discussed. I don’t live in Bobo-Dioulasso as continuously as Aguibou. I come and go, I tour, I travel the world, which at least has the advantage that there is hardly any time to get into real trouble with the others here. Still, I have a passionate relationship with this city and I’m going to help shape the scene here in Bobo-Dioulasso.”

His success in Europe predestines him to also describe a relationship between Africa and Europe that is anything but settled, perhaps in order to change it. In the circle of the “Share” conference under the colorful cloths, he says in the direction of the choreographers from neighboring countries: “Don’t let yourselves be victimized. Because that’s exactly the European view of us.” Dramatic pause. “In reality, no one makes himself a victim; everyone does what they can to avoid being one. But as soon as it comes to the relationship with Europe, the role of victims is already inscribed in us. Because we don’t help the Europeans. It is Europe that desperately wants to help, supposedly without taking anything from us. This is precisely what makes us look like victims. Thus, we are once again colonized, portrayed as oppressed and poor by dark powers on a continent that is covered with bloody wars for our natural resources. And we poor Africans are black to boot…,” he shouts, shaking with laughter. “No one will help you if you want to start a company in Africa or Europe with maybe ten employees. If you show the same people starving children, suddenly a thousand Europeans are willing to donate money. Of course, this has an impact on our relations with Europe. We Africans are not stupid. So we play the card. But it has little to do with our reality. This card is a postcolonial production that Europe is staging.”

Europeans like to see black men, their strong muscular build – especially in dance. Speaking on this topic, Serge-Aimé Coulibaly immediately becomes very serious. This is where the darkest chapter begins for him – the exploitation of the male body as a variant of “racist jealousy,” as he calls it. “There are erotic projections of white people onto the beautiful slave. There is no doubt about that: The African body is simply subject to a sexual phantasm. That’s why we always wear clothes on stage and are very careful never to display our bodies like erotic objects. Even when I use traditional dance elements, I always have to consider this erotic gaze of the other. I want to be understood globally, not to be sexy and exotic. That’s just what all these solidarity associations established to help Africa want to see. But I stage my works against the judgment that we Black people are supposed to be something like the burned dregs of the world. Strictly speaking, we are actually much more like the sediment of history, if it’s true that all of humanity originated in Africa. Of course, all the clichés about us are believed by those in Birmingham or Brussels who don’t even have the faintest idea where Burkina Faso is. They have never been here. But even worse are the African expats who live in Europe, who see their pure Africa of yesteryear and don’t want to admit that Africa is shaped by the same global reality as Europe. The only ones worse still are the theater directors who believe they are speaking on behalf of their audience when they claim that my works are far too European. I ask: What is European? Order, he tells me. So Africa is wild disorder, then?”

There is laughter. It’s a comforting notion to imagine dance without racism. His Faso Dance Company is well suited to this, for they are a colorful bunch. Two dancers come from Bobo-Dioulasso, just like Serge-Aimé, others from the capital Ouagadougou, and the rest from Mali, Congo, Cameroon, but also from France and Italy: “I need talent that fits the work rather than people from a particular place,” he says. So this encounter in the Villa Rose garden is not about any specific dance venue for this commercial city at all, nor is it about the dancers from this city. This garden under the colorful cloths seems more like a randomly but naturally chosen place for an international exchange between the two Excellencies from Ghana next to the choreographer from Nigeria next to the organizer from the Basque Country next to the festival organizer from Ljubljana next to the ballet director from the National Theater in Accra next to the EU lobbyist from Naples next to the dance artist from Togo next to the dancer from Latvia next to the Palestinian artist from the West Bank with a Norwegian passport – they all seem like a single supranational unit of artists, who could actually manage to give their art a face that goes beyond nationalisms. It doesn’t seem to be of consequence if they are taking matters into their own hands in a dusty no man’s land or if they were to try doing so in Greenland or in the Jenin refugee camp north of the West Bank. “The place,” Serge-Aimé Coulibaly quotes his former president Thomas Sankara, “always belongs to the people who inhabit it.” It does not belong to dance. Dance only ever joins the place and then disappears again.

Those who live here at the edge of the tropics nevertheless smell Eurocentric self-importance and blackmail, because almost every sentence begins with “money” – like bait. The African mindset thinks: Will I, as the one dancing, be a king or a slave if I agree to this deal? Will I have to serve the organizers or will I be a star who can dictate to the organizers the conditions I need for my art?

This question, which hardly anyone in Europe would ask in such a deadpan manner, is of immense importance on the African art scene – not because the egocentricity of the artists is so excessive, but because otherwise the autonomy of their art is at stake. Who demands how and what I have to dance? The audience? The organizers? Or the current prevailing political discourse? How can I defend myself when I, as a dancer, will be surrounded by an overwhelming majority of producers, dramaturges, agents, technical directors, and staff who not only serves me, but whom I also must serve? In Europe, would I have a chance to renegotiate this relationship “on an equal footing” time and again? Does this many-headed system of touring theater weaken or strengthen me?

Such questions, which seem so urgent to the African hosts in their failed states, have nothing to do with the intended aid program proposed by the Europeans present. In order to determine their own structures, African dance professionals could, for a change, simply show unconditional solidarity with an industry that represents contemporary dance as part of a global art market. This should work if they presented themselves as winners in the spirit of Serge-Aimé Coulibaly – at least at home in his city of Bobo-Dioulasso, which knows nothing of the compromises that the market demands of an artist.

Unmoved, however, the Europeans continue to talk about “sharing,” “support,” “collectives,” and networks that people might join. Here, two mentalities are at odds with each other. Some curiously adopt the vocabulary, like Aguibo Bougobali-Sanou, who can well imagine a dance center in Africa that is half residence and half camp for rich ecotourists. Others, however, are openly critical, asserting that the very freedom contemporary dance offers them would call their own freedom into question if they were to submit to Europe and its money. “Nothing against compromises,” says an artist from Nigeria, “as long as they are voluntary and in accordance with my artistic intentions.”

Something is wrong with this “equal footing,” even in the cultural sector. “One reason for that,” says New York choreographer Valerie Green, who is currently hosting a workshop for local dance company Tamadia, “is that people here have had a great many traumatic experiences. Mental trauma is much more common in Africa than people think. The social and economic pressures are greater here, and many have been subject to war and have had to flee their homes.” Dancing is considered a remedy here as long as there is no audience, but only fellow dancers, i.e., what is called a rave elsewhere. Dancing makes the ego shine once more. Stage dance, which in the West strictly separates the spectators from the dancers, is for more often experienced in a collective in large parts of Africa: One person may be dancing on stage, but as soon as there is a pause, everyone else jumps up and also dances. Chris Torch ultimately describes this culture as an ideal: “That the separation into audience and dancers may end at some point just like the separation between Africa and Europe. That the angular borders may once again become a circle, in which all of us can dance.”