Translocal Development: Italy–SenegalRalph Grillo1* and Bruno Riccio2

1Department of Anthropology, University of Sussex, Falmer, Brighton, BN1 9SJ, UK2Department of Sciences of Education, University of Bologna, Via Zamboni, 34, 40126 Bologna, Italy

INTRODUCTION

In this paper we consider three examples of ‘translocal development’ involving Senega-lese migrants in Italy who embarked on

micro-development projects aimed at theircountry of origin. The involvement of migrantworkers/ethnic minorities in such international,or rather transnational, schemes, alongside and inconjunction with Northern and Southern localauthorities and NGOs, a form of practice largelyoverlooked by the Anglophone literature, ispotentially a valuable route to development.None the less, our examples show that it is farfrom trouble-free, and we emphasise the need forrealism in assessing its strengths and weaknesses.

‘Translocal’ indicates two things. Firstly, it isour gloss (not translation) of the French termscoopération décentralisée and codéveloppement. InFrench development discourse, coopération/coopérant(s) is the usual way of referring to inter-national aid/aid workers. Coopération décentral-isée refers to policies of decentralising aidpractices to institutions below the level of thestate (‘infra-étatitque’; Petiteville, 1995: 32), espe-cially local authorities. Advocates of such coop-eration also stress the importance of involvinginstitutions in both North and South, so that allare jointly engaged in an enterprise of codevelop-ment. Secondly, ‘translocal’ places coopérationdécentralisée and codevelopment in the context ofcurrent debates about globalisation. Codevel-opment is an interesting phenomenon in thisregard, but our concern is specifically with devel-opment involving transnational migrants (‘trans-migrants’) who are attempting to live their lives‘across borders’. Consequently, our material alsotouches on long-standing debates about the inter-relationship of migration and development.

It is beyond our scope to tackle all these issues,and we concentrate on how policies encouragingtranslocal development might provide space for

POPULATION, SPACE AND PLACEPopul. Space Place 10, 99–111 (2004)Published online in Wiley InterScience (www.interscience.wiley.com). DOI: 10.1002/psp.321

Copyright © 2004 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

ABSTRACT

‘Translocal development’ refers to policies ofcoopération décentralisée, which decentraliseaid practices to institutions below the level ofthe state, especially local authorities, andstress the importance of involving institutionsin both North and South so that all are jointlyengaged in an enterprise of codéveloppement.Our specific concern in this paper is withprojects that include transnational migrantsand their associations, and we examine howthey might provide space for migrant workersto integrate their own (often prior)independent, individual and collectivedevelopment initiatives with those of nationaland local governmental and non-governmentalagencies. This has been widely discussed inFrance under such headlines as ‘immigrantsdevelop their country’, but hardly mentionedelsewhere. The case of Senegalese migrants in Italy, particularly those who embarked on micro-development projects aimed at their country of origin, leads us to emphasisethe practical difficulties facing theimplementation of such policies and thecomplex (micro and macro) politics in whichthey are embroiled. Copyright © 2004 JohnWiley & Sons, Ltd.

Received 4 July 2003; revised 11 December 2003; accepted 15December 2003

Keywords: migrants; translocal development;development policies; transnationalism;Senegal; Italy

*Correspondence to: R. Grillo, Department of Anthropology,University of Sussex, Falmer, Brighton, BN1 9SJ, UK.E-mail: r.d.grillo@sussex.ac.uk

migrant workers, in countries such as France andItaly, to explore ways of integrating their own(often prior) independent, individual and collec-tive development initiatives (hometown associa-tions, plans to set up businesses, etc.) with thoseof national and local governmental and non-governmental agencies, perhaps enabling themto exploit such interventions for their own pur-poses. This has been widely discussed in Franceunder such headlines as ‘immigrants developtheir country’ (e.g. Daum, 1993a), but hardlymentioned elsewhere (although see Libercier andSchneider, 1996; Hamilton, 1997). The casestudies lead us to emphasise the practical difficulties facing the implementation of suchpolicies, and the complex politics in which theyare embroiled.

FRENCH CODÉVELOPPEMENT

Coopération décentralisée/cooperazione decentrataand codevelopment/codéveloppement/co-svilupposignal an orientation towards development (anda strategy and appropriate policies to implementit) which sees conventional development, characterised as state-to-state (bilateral) aid pro-grammes, as inadequate or even counterproduc-tive from an economic and political viewpoint.Programmes and projects, it is argued, should be‘decentralised’. Their primary movers, and thelocus of their activities, should not be states, butlocalities: that is, local states and places, thepeople who inhabit them, and the institutions ofcivil society (NGOs, associations, etc.) they havecreated. In keeping with this populist perspec-tive, proponents of codevelopment emphasisethe value of small-scale, micro-projects ‘codevel-oped’ in both developing and developed coun-tries, and in language resembling participatoryrhetoric in Anglophone development discourse(Libercier and Schneider, 1996: 10) encouragepartnership (partenariat) between the variousactors/stake-holders.

Codevelopment circles also stress the im-portance of dialogue with immigrants fromdeveloping countries. During the 1980s, manysub-Saharan African migrants, in France forlonger or shorter periods but maintaining impor-tant ties with places of origin, created ‘home’village and/or regional associations which began to initiate development projects, collectingfunds to build places of worship, schools and

health centres or, more ambitiously, small-scaleirrigation schemes. Their legitimate interests inthe development process, it is argued, should berecognised and they should be encouraged to be-come ‘development actors’, dissolving the devel-oper/developed distinction (Lavigne-Delville,1991: 196). The activities of such associations,especially those of Soninké-speaking migrantsfrom the Senegal River valley regions of Mali,Mauritania and Senegal, have now been widelydocumented by anthropologists such as Daum(1994, 1995), Lavigne-Delville (1991), Quiminal(1991), and Timera (1996), although like thestudies of codevelopment, their work, with muchto say about transnationalism, remains largelyunknown outside the Francophone world.

What distinguishes French codéveloppementfrom the transnational activities of migranthometown associations engaged in projects suchas renovating places of worship, equippingschools, sports centres or clinics, is the involve-ment of a variety of local institutions and actors‘here’ (regional and municipal authorities,NGOs, and crucially associations, based locallyin France but representing particular villages or clusters of villages where migrants originate,with funding from the state, or the EU), andcounterparts (local authorities, NGOs, villageassociations, etc.) ‘there’ in the South.(‘Here’/’there’ echoes the commonly usedFrench expressions ici/là-bas.) Petiteville (1995),in an excellent overview, considers town twin-ning ( jumelage), common throughout Europe andother parts of the world, as a pioneering form ofcoopération décentralisée. Often criticised as old-fashioned (Petiteville, 1995: 197), by 1991 twin-ning agreements and similar projects engagedmore than 1600 French municipal authorities.Although twinning does not necessarily involvedevelopment (less than a third of agreementswere with cities in the South; Petiteville, 1995:23), none the less some 200 concerned Africaalone, while, on the other side, the great major-ity of Senegalese and Malian towns had twins inEurope (Petiteville, 1995: 228–30). Cuffini et al.(1993) stressed the importance of such linkages in combating racism in France, and directing the attention of Northern third-world associa-tions to specific projects and places in Africawhere they can apply technical expertise.

Many Franco-African twinnings involveFrench suburban municipalities with significant

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populations of migrants and migrant-origin fam-ilies living in hostels and public-sector housingschemes, and their associations are often instru-mental in instigating them (Petiteville, 1995: 265).The municipality of Saint-Denis, an inner suburbin the Paris region with a large population ofmigrants from North and West Africa, offers agood example.

Saint-Denis, long a bastion of the left, has anagreement with a Malian regional association,‘Association Gidimaxa Jikké’, cited as a model ofits kind.1 Camara (1998), the association’s presi-dent, places its evolution in the context of thechanging patterns of migration from Mali toFrance over some 30 years (for the background seeinter alia Daum, 1992, 1995; Lavigne-Delville,1991; Quiminal, 1991; Timera, 1996). Initially,Malian migration involved young males seekingseasonal agricultural work in Senegal, but in the1960s the direction shifted to Dakar (the Sene-galese capital) and then to France. In this period,other than the return of individual savings to fam-ilies, there was little input into the wider societyor economy, except through the construction ofmosques. Through the Sahelian droughts of the1970s, families became increasingly dependent onmigrant remittances for their livelihoods, and thisled to the development of savings institutionswhich provided an insurance for those in Franceand a channel for resources to enter the local com-munity. From the 1980s onwards, with the failureof state agricultural policies, indeed the ‘disen-gagement’ of the state from its poor regions(Lavigne-Delville, 1991: 10), these arrangementsbecame more formalised with the emergence inFrance of associations more explicitly concernedwith local or regional development in Africa. Alsoinfluential were the emergence of a new, youngmigrant leadership, and the relaxation of theFrench law regulating associations (1981).

‘Gidimaxa Jikké’ (Jikké means ‘hope’) bringstogether some 3000 Malian migrants from thearrondissement of Aourou (24 villages with a population of 45,000 in the administrative cercleof Kayes) living mainly in the Seine–Saint-Denisdépartement. The Association’s activities haveincluded work on irrigation and communicationsinfrastructure (bridges/causeways), healthcentres, literacy programmes, and trainingschemes supporting micro-projects in marketgardening, dyeing and soap-making. In the 1996Partnership Agreement with Saint-Denis, the

Association undertook to engage ‘in parallel’with developments in Aourou and in Saint-Denis. In Aourou, working in conjunction with‘Gidimaxa Jikké local’, it would coordinate andprioritise projects in water, training and health,including a dispensary. Meanwhile in Saint-Denis it would undertake activities with youngpeople and women and in the field of intercul-tural relations. Notably, the accord emphasisesboth ‘here’ and ‘there’, thus operating in two (ormore) worlds (Grillo, 2002), or in/between ‘twospaces’ (Quiminal, 1993, 1997), providing anexcellent illustration of the interface of multicul-turalism and development. Indeed, in the text of the accord, ‘here’ (Saint-Denis) comes first, andit is significant that activities dealing with theproblems of young people and women aredirected towards precisely those groups of con-siderable concern to the municipality, bearing in mind that Saint-Denis with its public sectorhousing is very similar to the milieu portrayed inthe film La Haîne (see also Timera, 1996).

During the 1990s, as research was publishedand the linkage between migration and devel-opment began to be debated in governmentcircles in France and elsewhere, the Paris branchof the influential Panos Institute (founded in London in 1986) emerged as a catalyst, organising/sponsoring conferences and publications bring-ing together academics, representatives of devel-opment NGOs, the French national and localstate, and not least migrant associations. Aseminal event was a colloquium in June 1992 on‘Immigration et développement du Sahel’ held inEvry, involving inter alia nine major associationsrepresenting 175 villages, across three countriesin the Senegal River valley (Daum, 1993b). Sub-sequently many publications, including specialissues of the key French journals Hommes etMigrations and Migrations Société, have beendevoted to analysis of the development role,actual or potential, of such associations, andthese have included numerous accounts byactivists. In June 1999, Panos organised a furthermajor symposium in Paris on ‘Les immigrés,acteurs du développement Nord-Sud?’, the pro-ceedings of which were published in MigrationsSociété 12(67), 2000. Around this time, theacronym OSIIM (‘Organisations de SolidaritéInternationale Issues de l’Immigration’) began to refer to these associations, and discussionspread beyond France to encompass a network of

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organisations from several European countries,with major conferences in Brussels (2001) andBirmingham (2002).2 Thus, by the late 1990s, theidea of transnational codevelopment advocatedby Panos and others was well-established inFrance, where it received official acknowledge-ment (Naïr, 1997), and had begun to be influen-tial elsewhere (Thiara, 2000).

ITALIAN CO-SVILUPPO

Italian policy has been somewhat influenced byFrench experience (Tarozzi, 1999; Campani et al.,1999). Law 49 of 1987, for example, envisaged theintervention of local authorities in development(Petiteville, 1995: 15). None the less, by the mid-1990s relatively few local authorities had becomeinvolved in codevelopment projects (Libercierand Schneider, 1996: 59), and attempts to workthrough immigrants and their associations havebeen scarce. Schmidt di Friedberg (2000: 258)drew attention to some regions where NGOshave sought advice from migrants from countrieswhere they have an interest, but this only under-lines the restricted nature of the cooperation.

A limited number of projects have been under-taken (e.g. in Tuscany) by Italo-Senegalese organ-isations or Senegalese organisations in directcontact with, or supervised by, Italian institu-tions, with funding from, variously, the EU,national and local state, NGOs, and trainingorganisations. Below, we examine three attemptsby migrants, working though Italian institutions,to develop projects to be implemented inSenegal. The first two involved training coursesfor future transnational entrepreneurs. Voca-tional training is often seen as the key to the entryof immigrants into the labour market. Socialpractitioners and administrators often criticisepolicies that create reliance on assistance (assis-tenzialismo), favouring instead programmesencouraging empowerment, often via entrepre-neurship. Trade unionists also believe that suchprogrammes, financed by provincial or some-times regional governments, and normally heldannually, offer an alternative to repressive mea-sures against unlicensed trading. In Ravennathere were courses for builders, metal workers,machinists, (female) tailors, and, after 1997, forhouse cleaners and marble workers. These latterwere targeted, along with metal and hotelworkers, following provincial council meetings

bringing together the local job centre, the social security service, entrepreneurs’ associa-tions and trade unions, each of whom suppliedinformation concerning demand and supply forlabour in these sectors. Although employment isthe declared aim, the promise is seldom fulfilled,and they are often criticised for failing to meet the concrete needs of the labour market: ‘It isimportant to have real training that responds to the labour market demand’, as a social practitioner in Ravenna put it.

Some Italian sociologists take a celebratoryview of the break with assistenzialismo and themore direct stimulus to entrepreneurship pro-vided by these programmes, and emphasise toothe transnational potential for immigrants andItalian enterprises in an age of globalisation.Minardi (1996) argued that, through professionaltraining and the subsequent transfer of entrepre-neurial and managerial skills to the country oforigin, it is possible to generate connectionsbetween Italian and African or Asian small ormedium-sized firms, with the potential toenlarge the market for Italian enterprises and to create return flows of immigrants as new managers. An in-depth account of the experiencesof those attempting to implement such strategiesof transnational entrepreneurship is salutary,showing that things are more complicated andambivalent than wishful thinking suggests.

SENEGALESE IN ITALY

Contemporary Senegal is characterised by a pre-carious economic and social situation and afragile and complex equilibrium of cross-cuttingcleavages. Like many African countries, it hasput its economy under the control of the IMF,with little prospect of recovery. Senegalesepeople emigrate mainly for economic reasons,and in particular because of the crisis of the traditional agricultural system. Historically,migration has encompassed rural–urban migra-tion in Senegal, internal migration within WestAfrica, emigration to France, and then to otherEuropean countries such as Italy.

Senegalese migration to Italy began in the1980s, with migrants coming initially fromFrance and later directly from Senegal; 1989 wasthe year of peak Senegalese immigration and ofSenegalese internal migration within Italy. Manywho had previously worked in the south and

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islands (Sicily and Sardinia) began moving to thericher, more industrialised north. This involvedseasonal migration towards Emilia Romagna,aiming not so much at gaining employment inthe industrial sector as at entering the profitablemarket for unlicenced street selling on the touristcoast. The Senegalese with whom we are con-cerned in this article were living principally intwo cities, Ravenna and Rimini, in the region of Emilia-Romagna (Riccio, 1999, 2001).

The great majority of Senegalese immigrants inItaly are men migrating as individuals, followingpaths shaped by migratory chains, and highlymobile within the Italian territory. The propor-tion of women (10%), growing slowly throughfamily reunions, is lower than in other majorimmigrant groups such as Moroccans (30%).Early migrants to Europe were mainly from theToucouleur, Serere and Soninké ethnic groups, thelast the most numerous in France (Timera, 1996).Migrants to Italy are principally Wolof-speaking,from the northwestern regions, and adherents ofthe Mouride Islamic brotherhood. Such brother-hoods are important political actors in Senegal.By relying on relations of personal dependenceand an effective organisation, the brotherhoods,the Mouride in particular, offer a solidaritysystem well-adapted to responding to crisis situ-ations. Their financial contributions have alsohelped make the city of Touba, the site of theMouride founder’s revelation, a major com-mercial and religious centre, with the largestmosque in sub-Saharan Africa.

DAK-FISH: A FISH IMPORT–EXPORT ENTERPRISE

Dak-Fish3 is an import–export enterprise witheight Senegalese members which has grown froma long-term project involving several institu-tional actors in Rimini. The idea for an enterpriseof this kind originated independently withEcosea, a centre for training and technical assis-tance in the fishing sector which wanted todevelop courses for immigrants, and some Sene-galese who had received training in this field in1990 and wanted to undertake a project inSenegal. Both parties contacted a local researchinstitute (ISIR) with long-term experience inimmigration issues, and the Rimini receptioncentre for immigrants, and developed a proposal.Following a feasibility study funded by the

Emilia-Romagna Region and undertaken by amultidisciplinary team of experts, a year-longtraining programme, including internships onfishing boats, was initiated, financed by theRegion, Rimini municipality, and the European Social Fund. However, things did not run smoothly.

There were, for example, tensions within thegroup between the Senegalese from the countryand those from the town, and between those whofavoured collective rather than individual enter-prises (with the latter tending to use the projectsto push their own individual business interests).For the ISIR director, who was also the Ecoseacourse tutor and acted as broker between theSenegalese, Ecosea and the funding bodies, thequestion of cooperation seemed pivotal. He feltthat some of the trainees acted in a ‘bossy’ waymaking integration difficult: ‘I always tell themthat to be responsible they have to give more tothe group and that the group comes before theindividual showing off’. He added later: ‘I wassurprised to discover that those who went to aQuranic school instead of a state school are actu-ally more practical and easier to work with: theydo not need to show off’. However, life historiesreveal that those from rural areas, who speaklittle Italian, often enjoy the respect of urbanmigrants, testifying to the ambivalence underly-ing these kinds of distinctions and typologies.The question of cooperation also pre-occupiedthe Senegalese: ‘every man must rely on oneanother to achieve something. Someone whobelieves himself to be self-sufficient, to be enoughby himself, will go nowhere’, said one trainee.But this narrative of solidarity and reciprocitycoexists with, and may be in conflict with,another ideal of individual autonomy, leading to constant debate.

There was also scepticism about the imple-mentation of the project in Senegal. Indeed, onetrainee, before leaving for a visit, cautiously saidhe would take only a brief account of the projectto prevent anyone from stealing the idea. Thetrainer noticed how the Senegalese ‘expressedworries about corruption and a state that “eats”everything’. One of several trainees whodropped out of the course or failed the examattributed his withdrawal to reservations about the Senegalese end:

‘I am very sceptical about it, this is why I left.In Senegal it is very difficult, terrible, there are

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thousands of people who have been doing thesame kind of things [fish import–export] foryears . . . and when you have a project of anykind someone will steal it anyway. . . . This iswhy I prefer hi-fi and musical production,because I want to invest in quality and origi-nality. In Senegal this kind of trade is con-trolled by the Lebanese who have a lot ofmoney, but things will change on that score.’

Others, too, had their doubts. ‘The informalmarket will eat them’, said a Senegalese fromBologna, and an Italian with previous experi-ence in fishing enterprises was certain theywould fail: ‘It is unthinkable it will work. Theydid not even negotiate with the Senegalesefishers organisation’.

These and other difficulties awaited Dak-Fishin Senegal. In December–January 1996–7, one ofthe trainees (Modou) went to Dakar to initiate theenterprise. There were various complications:one member failed the medical required for anavigating licence; there were concerns abouthow the project would be seen by large fishingenterprises, as well as the small boats workingout of the port of Dakar; and each time Modouvisited the official in charge of procedures forstarting a business, he emerged with newbureaucratic problems. In such situations, con-tacts are vital, and Modou had a friend whoworked at the port who could check thegrapevine for reaction to their project, and alsohelp to find a navigating licence for the traineewho failed the medical. Modou’s brother at theMinistry of Finance could also assist. Such net-works are fundamental to survival, especiallywhen embarking on this type of economic activity. At the same time, Modou, like othertransmigrants, was engaged in all kinds ofimport–export schemes involving products suchas refrigerators, sofas, chairs and other furniturein great demand, an indirect product of migrants’investment in building houses.

Before the enterprise got off the ground inSenegal, however, and contrary to expectations,the first difficulties emerged in Italy. During thesummer of 1996 it appeared that Ecosea waschanging the project. Initially it was agreed thatthe Senegalese would create their own enterpriselinked with Ecosea through a joint distributingventure. In 1996 they discovered that Ecoseaexpected that the enterprise itself would be

jointly run. According to the ISIR director andsome Senegalese members, Ecosea wanted toexploit this situation for its own ends as its otherbranches were in legal and financial difficulties.In the winter of 1996, the conflict seemedresolved on the basis of the original agreement,and the Senegalese worked towards foundingtheir own enterprise, with Ecosea in charge of distribution. It transpired, however, that this was not Ecosea’s understanding, and the rela-tionship ended in 1997.

This change of plan caused major disappoint-ment, especially when the enterprise, Dak-Fish asit was now called, was struggling to start up. It also led to problems with the EU’s Centre forthe Development of Industry (CDI) which pro-vides start-up funds for entrepreneurial activities.

The withdrawal of Ecosea cast doubts on thescheme, and the ISIR director reported that theCDI required another feasibility study and busi-ness plan. The Senegalese wanted to go directlyto Brussels to ensure the continuation of theproject. ‘We will ask for money in all directions,all channels of fundraising, but one finds only alot of broken promises’, said the ISIR director.One of these avenues included regional govern-ment funding available for those returning totheir native countries. After many months of lobbying, however, the council of Riccione (atown next to Rimini) put up the money for onepart of the project, the boat.

It was a nightmare, and the difficulties encoun-tered often depressed the trainees individually,but they felt that this also made the groupstronger. Formally, however, the course failed,because although eventually Modou’s tribula-tions in Senegal ended well, on paper at least, atthe end of the course the trainees were still inItaly and had not fulfilled one of the conditionsagreed by Ecosea: return to Senegal.

AFRO-BOUTIQUE: A CRAFTIMPORT–EXPORT COOPERATIVE

Afro-Boutique was an import–export cooperativeof ethnic crafts and food with 12 Senegalesemembers who followed a training programmefor import–export entrepreneurs. The course wasfinanced by an EU programme and organised bya regional training institution in collaborationwith a consortium of cooperatives normallyinvolved in reception policies towards migrants.

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In the early 1990s a social practitioner at theimmigration reception centre in Ravenna wantedto explore ways in which the Senegalese couldenter the labour market in construction. In fact,the Senegalese showed little enthusiasm forworking as builders: trade was their priority. Butthis demanded much networking with traders’associations to learn about import–export, andinitially little happened apart from the initiationof an itinerant ethnic craft fair. This was opposedby the Italian traders’ association, which para-doxically has Senegalese members, and in 1996the fair was taken over by the Afro-Boutiquecooperative shop. From this emerged a project tocreate an ethnic craft enterprise which would‘show that they can trade within the rules’, as asocial practitioner put it; or demonstrate that the ‘migrant can become a leading figure in his country’, said the director of the consortium.

Following a marketing survey and a mission toFrance to learn from NGOs such as GRDR4 withlong experience of advising on transnational pro-jects, the course started in January 1994, lastingone year. The members of the cooperativedecided on a flexible organisation able to providethem with different individual options. One ofthe tutors (Fallou), a long-term immigrant with arange of experience in Italy (trade, interculturalinitiatives), explained how one member spe-cialised in high-quality traditional crafts: ‘Heknows the networks and the history and theculture underlying the craft objects and the tribalarts . . . he just needs to find the way to expresshimself’. Another was responsible for the fairtrade goods from an Alternative Commercecentre in Ferrara (and also the Mouride prayercentre). Fallou commented:

‘To sell on the beaches may be more advanta-geous, but it is important to break out from theinformal sector in an attempt to unify eco-nomic and cultural enterprise, to let ourselvesbe known . . . for instance in the fairs.’

As well as Senegalese or other immigrant sellers(and immigrants generally for food), the cooper-ative also targeted the Italian market forantiques, and the shop stocked some 30 Dogonstatues from Mali: ‘these have an artistic but alsoa historical and cultural value . . . at the momentthe issue is to find references to get ourselves into the market’.

In summer 1996, at a week-long Third Worldcraft fair (with products from Senegal, Mali,Guinea and Pakistan), Fallou talked about unlicenced trade:

‘None of the training courses takes intoaccount the real expectations of migrants . . .for instance numerous Senegalese want to betraders. But the courses are useless if not partof a wider project which allows you also to getthe commercial licence, at least for specificproducts in specific places.’

Afro-Boutique showed a concrete way toproceed. For some members it was indeed animportant springboard. For instance, Seck joinedthe board of directors of the provincial confeder-ation of cooperatives. In 1997, however, the othermembers of the cooperative left Fallou to managethe shop alone for six months while attending totheir own businesses in Senegal or elsewhere.Thierno, for example, who visited Senegal to seeif there were potential sellers and buyers for Afro-Boutique, but also to pursue his own individualtrading activity, went to Touba, the importantMouride religious and commercial centre, wherehe reflected on the difficulties facing Afro-Boutique and the need to develop his own interests:

‘The problem is that the earnings are not sufficient to pay everyone. I do not want toabandon the Afro-Boutique project after twoyears of training and two of work. I wouldhave even been available to work for free butonly after securing the livelihood of my familyin Touba.’

The lack of cooperation between the differentmembers of the group was stressed by the direc-tor of the consortium: ‘If you asked, they wouldanswer we are in a cooperative but everyone goes his own way’. By 1998 the shop was always closed.

PIKINE THEATRE: A TRANSNATIONALINTERCULTURAL PROJECT

In Ravenna there have been various ‘intercul-tural’ initiatives, as they are called: multiculturalparties, rallies against racism, festivals of filmsfrom developing countries, photographic exhibi-tions about immigrants, and so on. The school isanother field of intercultural activities, and atheatre company was involved in workshopswith pupils and teachers. In Rimini a well-known

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Senegalese band visited classes to talk aboutAfrican literature, geography, history, rituals andtraditions. The experience of Pikine Theatreshould be seen in this context.

Pikine Theatre grew out of Bel Teatro, the firstcommunity-based theatrical troupe formed bySenegalese and Italian actors and organised as acooperative. Bel Teatro is grounded in the theoryof meticciato, which emphasises an intercultural‘dialogue’, in this instance between Senegaleseand local Italian (Romagnolo) culture (Picarazzi,1997), and which fosters a form of solidarityagainst racism. Although the company sharedthese goals, there were internal differences, as theaccount by one Senegalese member, Abdoulaye,testifies.

Abdoulaye encountered the company in 1989when the director, Marco Bassanelli, was seekingreplacement Senegalese actors for a play in thelocal Romagnan dialect. Although he had noexperience, Abdoulaye claimed he was a profes-sional actor and obtained a part. It changed hislife. Initially he was not totally committed to theproject (‘I still saw involvement with the theatreas a job like others to earn money to send to myfamily . . . my real worries were for example thelack of water at home.’). However, from thebeginning he was not just an actor but also abroker between the director and other Sene-galese, helping to recruit actors among the com-munity in Rimini. They discovered Babacar, whocame to Rimini from Rome to work as a street-seller during the season, a brilliant dancer with a very expressive personality, and a griot.5

Bassanelli cast him as a ‘black harlequin’ in anadaptation of a Goldoni scenario (I ventidue infortuni di Babacar Arlecchino). This play, saysPicarazzi (1997: 7):

‘raises the questions of Otherness, of theStranger, of cancellation of identity, of racism,assimilation, and alienation, in its contrastingdepiction of the two Senegalese characters:Arlecchino, the universal and easily recogniz-able symbol of the oppressed, and the assimi-lated Scapino, the Senegalese innkeeper . . . aman from his own country who has made hisfortune by taking on all the negative qualitiesof the white man.’

In 1990 the troupe wanted to make anexploratory trip to Senegal and received an

invitation from the Italian Embassy in Dakar.This helped with support in Italy from the localgovernment and police, important because theSenegalese actors did not have residence permits.When in Senegal, Abdoulaye had to explain tohis father (who was interested in money) whathis job meant and why he was returning so soon,telling him that his work was not only aboutmusic and dance, but socially and politicallyimportant. The Italians in the company were veryimpressed by Senegal, by Abdoulaye’s extendedfamily and his father’s hospitality. They per-formed to great acclaim at the National TheatreSorano and at the University.

In 1991, Abdoulaye went through a ‘life crisis’,wanting to quit. Bassanelli helped him throughthis, urging him to acquire other skills such asimproving his Italian. Like Babacar Arlecchino‘(his) work has given him the distance and meanswith which to look back and learn about hiscountry’s traditions and his family’s heritage . . .synthesizing them into his present-day experi-ences from the perspective of the emigrant’(Picarazzi, 1997: 14). The company went on toperform a play which revisited the traditionalstories of Buky and Leck, the hyena and the hare,and another written in Romagnan dialect andWolof, which involved travelling to Senegal tocollect stories from griots, presenting the figureof the oral narrator of both cultures. Most of these plays concern the African immigrant inItaly, and represent ‘a decentering of Eurocentricand hegemonic discourses of nationalism andidentity within the context of present-dayRomagna’ (Picarazzi, 1997: 4).

1992 saw the birth of the idea of Pikine Theatre.Abdoulaye dreamt of opening a cultural centre inthe commune of Pikine in Senegal to preserve thetraditions of music, tales and dance, very wide-spread informally in the commune, and devel-oping it as a theatrical project. Pikine, a suburbof Dakar, is inhabited by migrants from differentvillages. ‘The village roots need to be redis-covered’, Abdoulaye said, stressing that its multi-cultural character was an important resource forthe project. Networking with other socio-culturalassociations in Pikine, Abdoulaye ascertainedthat the local Foyer of Youth could host the projected activities. Like many Senegalese,Abdoulaye enjoys spending six months inSenegal, six in Italy, and likes the idea that thetheatre could benefit from an exchange between

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the cultural resources of Senegal and the techni-cal and financial resources of Italy.

When in Italy Abdoulaye used to say ‘a lionhere can be a sheep there . . . the projects thatseem easy from here can become almost impos-sible there’, and acknowledged that it is very dif-ficult to succeed because local people are poorand have needs other than those of leisure orculture. In 1996–7 the project encountered severaldifficulties, including problems with their Sene-galese counterpart (Oumar), and a visit toSenegal was needed to clarify the relationship.Moreover, riots following municipal elections inPikine badly affected the Foyer where the theatrewas supposed to be based. Abdoulaye under-stood some of the difficulties:

‘There are many socio-cultural associations inPikine which would love to have a space toexpress themselves and suddenly these “Ital-ians” [migrants to Italy] arrive and have fullaccess to the Foyer of Youth . . . you can under-stand that jealousy can spoil all the network-ing created in four years of work.’

Furthermore, critics of the project argued thatthis kind of cultural activity was secondary towhat really mattered, addressing the commune’ssocial needs. None the less, cultural and athleticassociations were very important informal polit-ical actors in the 1990s in Dakar, promoting andorganising clean-up operations and vacationclasses for children. They formed part of a socialmovement known as Set-Setal, linking sanitationcampaigns with campaigns against corruption(Diouf, 1996), with which Abdoulaye identifiedthe Pikine project.

There were also problems within the company.Babacar was increasingly committed to his owntrading businesses in Diourbel and Touba, and tocoaching a football team. He wanted to be anactor in the project, for the same pay as theothers, but not to help with management andorganisation. Besides this, Abdoulaye himselfwas under constant economic pressure from hisfamily who were involved as technicians or inproviding logistic help, and from neighboursdemanding ‘their part’ of his money. Despitethese difficulties, the relationship with the ItalianNGO which supervised part of the project was going well, and some successes wereachieved. Contacts were established with otherassociations and several successful events were

held: concerts of rap and traditional folk andethnic music, dance competitions and a theatreworkshop.

Oumar, a professional actor and media experttrained in Senegal, was critical of his colleagues’lack of professionalism and excessive familyinvolvement. Unlike other members of thegroup, he was educated and not a migrant. Hewas ambivalent about that: proud of staying inhis country and contributing to its development,but envious of the migrants’ success and thepopular respect accorded them in general, andhis colleagues in particular: ‘All these migrantsaccept being enslaved by the whites, whereas Iknow the real wealth (richness) that the Africancontext can imply’. Oumar approved of theproject investing in cultural rather than socio-economic initiatives, something criticised byothers, championing his role because of hisknowledge of the artistic environment inSenegal, although recognising that ‘we need to be financially sustained by foreign sources’.

The need to pursue personal (individual andfamily) interests posed organisational problemsfor the project, and, conscious of the weight thatcan be represented by family or place of origin,Abdoulaye thought to leave Italy to reshape thenetworks in Pikine, involving the families them-selves and exploring their potential contribution.The unreliability of colleagues, however, and thegeneral lack of a cooperative organisationalculture meant that the performance of one play,for which much work had been done on a Wolofversion, never took place. Abdoulaye becameprogressively disillusioned, and when in 1998Babacar and another actor decided to leave thecompany and go freelance, the Pikine Theatreproject faded away. Despite some successes theinitiative had to confront the most importantaudience, the family in the context of origin, andin the end individual and family demands over-came the demands of collective solidarity.

THE POLITICS OF CODEVELOPMENT

Our examples thus differ from the village projects undertaken by the Soninké associationsin France. Our cases concern small groups of(Wolof-speaking) migrants, more closely con-nected with the urban than the rural milieu in Senegal, engaging in collective enterpriseswith varied interests using whatever funds could

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be found, while also working independently,keeping their options open, and networking witha multiplicity of Italian and Senegalese partners.Wolof-speaking transnational migrants in Italydo not have the hometown associations ofSoninké in France, whose migration involvescommunities, usually living in collective accom-modation in France, structured by, and respon-sive to, village-based lineages. (The differentimmigration context is also important: associa-tional life is much less strongly developed in Italy than in France or Britain.) Yet projects inboth countries reveal a complex balance of positive and negative factors.

Meillassoux’s critique of codevelopment(1990), viewing immigration as part of a globalsystem of dependency, argued that if immigrantworkers are exploited in the receiving economy,encouraging productive investment in thesending society will reproduce rather thanundermine systems of exploitation. This pes-simistic outlook is the other side of the naïve optimism of some Italian sociologists. Gardner(1995) rightly contended that although migrants’investments may increase economic polarisation,they can, however, according to the context,produce economic development as well asdependency. We must also remember that co-development involves partners ‘here’ and ‘there’,and for better or worse has effects in two (ormore) societies.

Positively, in regions abandoned by govern-ments, associations have built mosques, schoolsand clinics, improved water supplies and insti-tuted irrigation schemes (Diarra, 1998). More-over, for France their activities represent, asDaum (1994: 99) observes, a ‘totally original strat-egy’, signalling a refusal to break with countriesof origin while seeking integration. That is, suchmigrants declare an intention to live transnation-ally, and for them the distinction ici/là-bas is ‘veryartificial’ (Bousetta, 2000: 284). Codevelopmentalso seeks to overcome the cynicism engenderedby conventional development, with its panderingto power elites and corrupt regimes. (As Jaabe Soput it: ‘I sometimes wish the Caisse Française hadsimply put the money in [the minister’s] bankaccount, and saved everyone a lot of trouble’:Adams and So, 1996: 277.) It also addresses thetraditional weaknesses of development-orientedtwinning agreements (lack of finance and techni-cal skills) by focusing existing funds on specific

places (while seeking new sources from nationaland local government, and the EU), and supple-menting technical skills with the resources ofexperienced NGOs such as GRDR and COSPE6

(Petiteville, 1995: 205).Negatively, codevelopment is no ‘panacea’

(Petiteville, 1995: 267), but, as Bousetta (2000:283) emphasised, ‘only one factor’. Its projectsoften have only marginal impact (Petiteville,1995: 89), and many fail. Diatta and Mbow (1999:247) report that in ten French-Senegalese co-funded projects from the 1980s (market-gardening, fishing, cattle-raising, aviculture, gasstation) there were ‘enormous shortcomings,linked primarily to lack of proper supervisionand assistance . . . [by 1989] five were no longerin operation and the other five were virtuallybankrupt’.

Codevelopment is, moreover, frequently proneto ideological and political abuse (Courade,1998). Who is it aimed at and why, and who ben-efits? It goes without saying that there are manydifferent actors with mixed interests and motives,a point emerging strongly from our Italian exam-ples. Petiteville (1995: 200) observed that Frenchlocal engagement with the Third World followedon from victories of the Left in municipal elec-tions in the 1970s. In the 1980s, ‘mayor-managers’emerged, eager to enhance municipal profilesinternationally, and find export opportunities fortheir industries, and increasingly able to draw onstate co-funding. Condamines (1998), Daum(1998) and others, in reviewing French policy,also stressed that codevelopment, indeed devel-opment policy in general, is often bound up withthe politics of immigration. Thus, support givenby the hard-line, right-wing (former) minister ofthe interior, Charles Pasqua, to projects provid-ing employment in Africa for immigrantsexpelled from France was, in effect, part of a policy of repatriation. Schemes such as ‘Le Programme de Développement Local Migration’which embarked on 200 micro-projects in Mali(Martin, 1998: 87), were in a cynical view no morethan a ‘carrot’ to migrants who had been refusedpermission to stay in France (Farine, 1998;Kamara, 1998; Nédélec, 1998). A similar chargewas laid against the left-wing government(1997–2002) for the policies adumbrated by SamirNaïr (1997), the ‘délégué interministériel aucodéveloppement et aux migrations inter-nationales’. While denying that codevelopment

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aimed to facilitate the repatriation of immigrants,Naïr argued that new immigrants must be tem-porary, and codevelopment had a role in ensur-ing their ‘reinstallation’ in their countries oforigin. Daum (1997: 206) called such support for‘migration tournante’ a ‘softer’ left-wing versionof policies of repatriation, which perpetuates the subordinate situation of sending societies inthe international division of labour.

Italian co-sviluppo reveals similar tensions tothose observed in France. It forms part of a transition to migration policies in which theemphasis would be on family integration and thestimulation of autonomy and entrepreneurship.Do these reflect the real demands of immigrants,or the logic of Italian planners, politicians andsocial practitioners involved in the implementa-tion of immigration policies? Diatta and Mbow(1999: 254) also observed that the government’s‘Commodities Aids’ Project’ with Senegal exam-ined the possibilities for the voluntary return ofSenegalese migrants, while Schmidt di Friedberg(2000) noted that the anti-immigrant regionalparty, the Northern League, encouraged NGOs toengage in development with the specific objec-tive of halting immigration. In this context, co-sviluppo may all too readily become entwinedwith the politics of racism. This is illustrated bythe Mayor of Riccione who, when explaining histough stand on unlicenced trade, reminded hisaudience that ‘we have even bought them theboat’ (Espresso, 29 October 1997). The financialsupport of Dak-Fish, together with the extensionof the category ‘them’ from eight entrepreneursto the whole Senegalese community, enabled theMayor to present a balanced image of his policy:tough enough to satisfy angry shopkeepers, generous enough to confront anti-racist left-wingor Catholic criticism. Such projects risk feeding‘rhetorics of exclusion’ (Stolcke, 1995), whileclaiming to benefit the excluded. Many projects,perhaps especially those involving training pro-grammes and intercultural activities, may havethe laudable symbolic goal of representing theimmigrant in the public sphere: Afro-Boutiqueexplicitly sought to provide a real alternative tounlicenced trade. But praising the idealist ThirdWorldism of French or Italian municipal author-ities and activists (cf. Libercier and Schneider,1996: 10), or the role of migrant associations ascultural mediators, is ‘not without ambiguity’(Petiteville, 1995: 265) if the motive of municipal

officials is to return migrants to their home countries.

At the same time, however, and to complicatematters, codevelopment may well provide themeans for migrants, individually and/or collec-tively, to fulfil their own projects, as with Soninkéassociations in France. Many trainees in the Dak-Fish project, for instance, were torn betweenstaying in Italy, eventually returning to Senegalwith more savings, or going back with a job, forsome at least an attractive proposition:

‘I worked for many years in a garage, but I amhappy about the opportunity provided by thisproject which would allow me to return toSenegal and to my wife and two daughters.’

CONCLUSION

Our examples amply document these and otherambiguities. They demonstrate the impossibilityof treating codevelopment as if it were unem-bedded in political, social and cultural contexts,‘here’ and ‘there’. They also reveal problems of control, of misunderstandings due to naïveexpectations, of idealisation of partners, ofmutual disillusionment, as well as the impor-tance of transnational social networks and indi-vidual and collective social capital (or lack of it).Participants may have to deal with the inexperi-ence, unreliability and self-interest of colleagues,and the demands of relatives (and venal politi-cians) anxious to share any success. Yet at thevery least, codevelopment is no better nor worsethan more conventional forms of development(Petiteville, 1995: 222). As Bousetta argued: ‘Forimmigrants the important thing is to engage withtransnational associational projects. For now, thefocus is more important than the content’ (2000:284). Thus, although projects often fail (and premature celebration is unwarranted), they are important phenomena which are likely to bein demand ‘here’ and ‘there’ so long as migrantsseek to maintain transnational ties with theircountries of origin.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The data derive from Riccio’s fieldwork(1996–99) in Italy, Senegal and France, funded by a Marie Curie Fellowship: Contract no.ERBFMBICT 961586: ‘Socio-cultural Integration

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and Exclusion of Senegalese in Europe: Institu-tional Practices and Immigrants’ TransnationalNetworks in Emilia Romagna’.

NOTES

(1) In Le Conventionnement ‘Ville-Comité De Jumelage’.Cités Unies France: Paris, www.cites-unies-france.org/html/bibliotheque/pdf/Convention-ville-com-de-j1.pdf/ [accessed March 2003].

(2) See http://www.panosparis.org/migra_MIDEIP.html/ [accessed March 2003].

(3) All names in this and the following cases havebeen anonymised.

(4) ‘Groupe de Recherche et de Réalisations pour leDéveloppement Rural dans le Tiers-Monde’,http://www.coordinationsud.org/coordsud/membres/grdr.html/ [accessed March 2003]. Seealso Lavigne-Delville (1991), Adams and So (1996),Vallée (1998).

(5) Griots are specialists in the ‘oral word’, importantin preserving the historical and cultural memoriesof the Senegalese people.

(6) ‘Cooperazione per lo Sviluppo dei Paesi Emer-genti’, http://www.cospe.it/ [accessed March2003].

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