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Pedagogy 2.3 (2002) 392-395



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Reflections on Teaching America Abroad

Teaching American Literature in Francophone West Africa

David G. Nicholls

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During the late 1990s American literature and civilization was a hot field for students in many West African universities (and it very likely continues to be so today). For example, when I taught at the University of Dakar, Senegal, in 1997-98, undergraduates in the English department could focus on one of three areas: British, African, and American literatures in English. In the fourth year roughly sixty students followed the British track, twenty-five the African track, and over four hundred the American track. Why did American literature attract so many students? Some observers note the prevalence of American popular culture at the movies, on radio and television, and in the products (and their counterfeits) sold in local markets. Others note the persistent desire of many Senegalese to work in the United States: students were seeking linguistic and cultural competencies that would help them succeed in America. Still others point to the prevalence of U.S. exchange programs, which, combined with other research and cultural programs funded by the U.S. government, make for a strong American presence in the Senegalese academy.

One aspect of this phenomenon that I observed while teaching in three Francophone West African countries is the overwhelming emphasis on African American literature and culture in the curricula of their programs. Following on the theoretical elaboration of African diaspora studies and the earnest efforts of scholars on both sides of the Atlantic to forge ties, many West African university instructors have sought to excite their students of American literature by introducing them to works by African Americans. This gambit has paid off in some respects: many of my master's advisees, for example, were indeed excited about African American writers and wrote theses about them. Presumably, these students had found some point of identification in a common ancestry with African Americans, however distant. But many students, I discovered, did not feel the identification expected of them; on the contrary, many of them felt a great distance. Even those who did feel a sense of identification yearned to learn about other aspects of American life.

Prior to my arrival in Senegal in the fall of 1997, I had read Fulbright reports about the position at the University of Dakar and knew what it might [End Page 392] entail. I consulted the chair of my department about possible topics for my American civilization course, a fourth-year, ten-week lecture series; he suggested "affirmative action." Worried about finding enough to say on this topic to fill ten weeks of class, and eager to introduce greater historical depth into the curriculum, I instead offered a course called "The Civil War in American Popular Culture." As local instructors might have expected, Frederick Douglass's Narrative proved immensely interesting to these students. But they seemed equally fascinated by the diary of Sarah Morgan, a Confederate woman who lost two brothers during the war. I lectured on the history of the war, sang songs from the era, and recited some of Abraham Lincoln's speeches. Reading numerous writers who expressed a range of perspectives, the students gained a nuanced understanding of the conflict that, in many ways, foregrounds our struggles with affirmative action today. A second-year course on Kate Chopin (suggested by a local instructor) proved successful because of the French connection: they saw linguistic as well as cultural elements with which they were familiar. Students in still another course, on Walt Whitman, were scared to death of Leaves of Grass at first, but they came to love Whitman's poetry and his cosmology, relating them to the historical context developed in the Civil War class and to Islamic conceptions of the universe. A colleague, acknowledging these successes, mentioned what he had thought as a member of the committee that had selected me: "You know, everyone thought you were black." "I hope you weren't disappointed," I answered. He smiled sheepishly.

When I was invited by the U.S. embassy to lecture at...

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