Sud FM, born from Sud Quotidien, began broadcasting on 1is July 1994. Today, Monday 1is July, the first private radio station in Senegal celebrates its 30th anniversary in complete sobriety. In this article which talks about and retraces the context of a first liberation of the airwaves in Senegal, the late Babacar Touré immortalized this symbolic date. We are publishing in full the article which appeared in the columns of Sud Quotidien on 1is July 2020 while wishing a HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR COLLEAGUES AT “SEN RADIO”.
1is July 1994. The real launch, that is to say the start of the broadcasting of the programs, took place on July 1is July 1994 almost a year after the granting of a frequency and the broadcasting license. The devaluation of the CFA Franc had passed by, upsetting our forecasts. Amadou Makhtar Mbow, former Director General of UNESCO, Mrs. Viviane Wade wife of Abdoulaye Wade and Jessica Mbow Sarr, mother of Samuel A. Sarr, “started the antenna”.
Why these three? Mr. Wade and Samuel Sarr were then in prison following the assassination of the Vice-President of the Constitutional Council Babacar Sèye, in which they had been cited, arrested and imprisoned. Unjustly? A way of giving them the justice that had been denied them. At least, that’s what we believed at the time! For a good ten days, we coached Mrs. Wade for the message in Wolof that we had to record for the day the channel went live.
As for Amadou Makhtar Mbow, the choice made about him was obvious in our eyes. Great promoter of science, education, culture, advocate of a New World Order of Information and Communication (Nomic), he left his post following American maneuvers, abandoned by his own country. South, born in favor of this doctrine, felt the obligation to pay deserved homage to this worthy son of Africa. Culture being to the mind and soul what food is to the body, Sudfm’s anchoring in its promotion has never been faulted. It has reaffirmed itself further with the advent of radio, which celebrates its 26th anniversary this week.
Abdoulaye Wade and his companions in misfortune will be released from prison in time to attend the official inauguration. We had wanted to wait for their enlargement for the official inauguration, just to defend and illustrate the resolutely pluralist character of this democratic platform, which we had launched six months earlier, in July 1994.
January 12, 1995. “Official” inauguration of the first private Senegalese radio station broadcast on the FM band. A popular ceremony enhanced by the presence of personalities such as Monsignor Hyacinthe Cardinal Thiandoum, the Guide of Tidianya Abdou Aziz Sy (Junior) then spokesman and future Khalif General of Tidianes, the Grand Serigne of Dakar, Bassirou Diagne Marème Diop and all that Senegal has in terms of leaders, anonymous citizens, ordinary people, all activities combined or without activity.
Three of the four heads of state of the member countries of the Organization for the Development of the Senegal River (OMVS) are present at this ceremony which begins with an exhibition of the “products” of the South group, its various titles of the era, retracing his atypical journey which broke many codes and monopolies. Lansana Conté, President of the Republic of Guinea, withdrew at the last minute because he was told that the head of the radio was a friend of Alpha Condé, his irreducible and fierce opponent. This is the reason why he did not join his counterparts Alpha Oumar Konaré from Mali, Maaouiya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya from Mauritania and Abdou Diouf from Senegal.
A completely new initiative, carried out in partnership with the Association of Plastic Artists of Senegal, will have left its mark. Viyé Diba, president of the Association of Plastic Artists, selected works by various painters to cover the immense hall and the walls of the 5th floor of the Fahd building housing the headquarters of Sud Quotidien, promoter and “host” of Sudfm radio. Later, Viyé Diba, will not cease to sublimate the role of Sud in the promotion of Art and artists, because in addition to what was done in our different media, we had bought, at cost price, all the works of the different artists who participated in the exhibition on the day of the inauguration ceremony of Sudfm.
The tour of the exhibition and the studios over, while the guests were returning to the stands for the usual speeches, suddenly, between two doors, a trio of jolly fellows appeared, exhaling perfumed scents, a mixture of brandy, pipe tobacco, and extracts of herbaceous plants (psychotropic). Joe Ramangelisa Samb alias Issa, alias Joe Ouakam, emblematic figure of pop art, in the manner of an Andy Warhol, who has become iconic, Djibril Diop Mambety, the bohemian dandy of Colobane with the wandering camera, prefiguration of Spike Lee of “Jungle fever”, goldsmith of social satire and heir of Yaadikone, the heart bandit who took from the wealthy to please destitute children, Ibou Diouf, the poet of the brush, the spoiled child, gifted with Aesthetics, godson of Senghor and muse of the Dakar School.
Mambety’s trilogy of little people under the umbrella of sacred monsters who can no longer dissect and embody marginality. In doing so, they will end up reinventing major urban legends, embodied both by their praxis and by their projected image and lastingly imprinted in the imagination of their contemporaries.
We therefore understand the cheerful and slightly amused reaction of President Abdou Diouf, when our Joe Ouakam grabbed him by one of the sleeves of his jacket to talk to him about cultural issues and the development of spaces dedicated to the Arts and Culture. Obviously, the heads of state and their delegations as well as the guests, all stationary, observed this Hugolian scene teeming with characters marked by the romanticism and eclecticism of human nature.
Following this exchange, Abdou Diouf, containing the sympathetically irreverent interpellations of our troublemakers, turned around to ask the host of the day to contact his secretariat for an audience at the presidency of the Republic. We were then able to return to the stands. In reality, the trio was more of a quartet, since the expedition, so to speak, included a great art enthusiast, Madame Bintou Niang, wife of Cissé, named after the architect, urban planner, filmmaker, producer and man of culture, Nicolas Sawalo Cissé, author of a film on the Mbeubeuss dump, featuring a certain Ramangelisa.
Another story of little people, masters in the art of resourcefulness to transform garbage into “hard gold”. Another story of kids from the slums being bullied by big Yadi (for Yadikone, the miraculous one!), survivor of siblings who did not survive, wrongly compared to the Robin Hood of the English forest of Sherwood, hero fiction of the English Middle Ages which robbed the rich to give to the poor.
Grand Yadi, or Ndiaye Yadi to his relatives, real name Babacar Ndiaye, did indeed exist and retired in the locality of (camp) Nguekokh, in the current department of Mbour. A memoir was also dedicated to him on the theme of “social banditry”. Bintou, a collector and experienced gallery owner, had spotted a warehouse in the port area that could accommodate what will become the Vema space.
D-day, that of the meeting with Abdou Diouf as President of the Republic, was eventful. I had to “recover “Ibou Diouf at the “Midi”, a sort of second editorial for the southern legionnaires who counted fierce Amazons in their ranks. We are in a familiar situation, that is to say, an anxiety-provoking one with this indefinable sensation that someone dropped on the edge of the precipice, “unknowingly of their own free will,” can experience.
I believe, if my memory serves me right, that it was Ibou Diouf who showed up at the “Midi”, in shirtsleeves, discussing “vertical”, point of observation and elevation, axis of creation (sic). A phone call from the office made me understand that Issa-Joe Ouakam was giving us an appointment at Bilboquet, a stone’s throw between his refuge and the Presidency of the Republic. He would meet us there after having made contact with Djibril, as he addressed him with a knowing affection.
This one too was apparently not a morning person and had to requisition a canoe to reach Dakar and the city center from his residential island of Ngor. It was a long and busy night for those thirsty for underground culture! Bintou, a very good friend, remained distinguished and caring.
You will have understood that all these adventures swallowed up time and that the hour of the audience found us in meetings, near the military house, opposite the residence of the Head of State, walking with a step of senator, indifferent to the punctuality and metronome-like rigor of the disciple of Senghor, to whom we were going.
After having negotiated at the door, here we are pacing the sanctuary of the Republic, gesticulating and chatting casually, climbing the stairs with an unsteady step. As if they had given each other the word, the officials of the presidency were, some at the windows of their offices, some in the corridors, eager not to miss any moment of our picturesque and at the very least unusual journey in these solemn places .
A species escaped from a menagerie? Troubadours entertaining the gallery for a January gift? The show was guaranteed, even if Bintou’s presence gave the troupe some composure. But let’s continue. The usher had barely shown us in when Djibril spread his arms as if to implore the heavens. In fact, it was to envelop our slender president who, playing the game, did the same for the embrace of this extraordinary reunion. Since there’s enough for one, there’s enough for three. Binetou and I stuck to the barrier gestures of protocol distancing.
Lively conversation. Issa, more familiar with Diouf, launches the attack. Fabienne Diouf shared with Joe Ouakam a living space that was both private artistic (for Joe) and commercial for the president’s daughter. Djibril follows and recalls the promises not kept by the Ministry of Culture. Abdou Diouf, placid, unrolls. It was Ibou’s turn and I had to rush to the rescue of Bintou, who was remarkably restrained, so that she could explain her concerns to the head of state.
While we were not expecting it at all, Issa suddenly got up and went to stand near the window of the presidential office. He left us there without us knowing why. He was simply sulking. I had to negotiate his return to the president’s lounge, who spoke to him kindly and gently. It was on this occasion that the Sandaga project, a West African cultural center and pedestrian zone, was presented to President Diouf, who was seduced by the initiative.
Important issues in the field of cinema, art, in short culture were addressed during this hearing and commitments were made. Only one was implemented. Joe had protested precisely against this mania of our governments of not translating announced policies into facts. This was unbearable for creators and cultural entrepreneurs known and recognized worldwide, without their own country following suit. The sequel proved him right.
By Babacar Touré
