Out of Africa

Colorado sends more than condolences to Oumar Dia's native village

Stephanie Riggs, Special to the News

Sunday, April 23, 2000

On Nov. 18, 1997, a murder at an inner-city bus stop focused the spotlight on a man whose death inspired many Coloradans to embrace his people and his American dream.

Out of something tragic came something positive between a small African village and our entire state.

Oumar Dia worked long hours at the downtown Denver Hyatt Regency, cleaning rooms and running luggage. He sent his paychecks back to his village to support his wife and three children.

But on that cold November day, a horrifying act of racism ended his life.

Dia was shot and killed while waiting for a bus. His killer first called him names, then knocked off his cap before firing three bullets into his chest and back.

This seemingly random act of violence would have larger repercussions; it would set off random acts of kindness.

The more Colorado learned about the crime, the more we learned about the man, the smaller the world became.

And something remarkable happened. People started sending money to Dia's former boss at the Hyatt. He set up a memorial fund that soon reached $250,000.

Thanks to Colorado's contributions, Dia's village in Senegal, Diorbivol, now has a pump to bring water to the dry fields that surround it. People no longer go hungry. Villagers have a new grinder, so instead of pounding grain for hours, they can spend more time with their families. And the fund built a new school.

Denver-based Project Cure rounded up a half-million dollars worth of medical supplies and a team of doctors and nurses and opened a medical clinic in the village last year.

The National Renewable Energy Lab in Golden donated solar lights to the village. Dia had saved money for the lights before his murder.

So I asked our news director and general manager whether photojournalist Bill Masure and I could share this international friendship mission with our viewers. They agreed it was time.

The timing couldn't have been better. For too long, our state has been associated with so much sad news. It was time to show a positive story that reflects the warm, generous people in Colorado.

We called Denver Mayor Wellington Webb's office and connected with Sekou Kamara. Kamara had grown up in Dakar, the capital of Senegal, and helped us make all the arrangements to travel to Dia's West African village.

First, Bill and I received a dozen vaccines each for diseases you never see anymore in the United States - yellow fever, typhoid and cholera, to name a few.

Then we checked with the State Department, which told us Senegal was about to have elections, something that happens there once every seven years. There was a travel advisory because the country was fed up with the president who had been in power since Senegal gained its independence from France in 1960.

Kamara urged us to make plans anyway.

So we did and ended up in Senegal right in the middle of the elections. Fortunately for us, Senegal decided not to re-elect the president. So, no problems.

We flew from Denver to New York, then took an eight-hour flight to Dakar, an overcrowded peninsula.

It's the westernmost point in Africa and the closest port to the Americas. Slaves were held on the nearby island of Goree, also known as the island of slavery.

We received special permission to videotape and photograph the slave house, where slaves were held in tiny dark cells. If they were too sick or died awaiting transport, they were tossed into the ocean. Slave island was our introduction to West Africa.

We spent our first day on Goree Island, then drove around Dakar. What a frightening experience! Diesel buses, goats, horses and taxi cabs compete for the road. Somehow you just force your way through the commotion.

We met with the U.S. ambassador, then visited with Dia's childhood classmate Jibi Gaye. We met Kamara's brother, who volunteered to drive us to the village. And we hooked up with Ted Lawrence, a Peace Corps volunteer from Denver who has lived and worked in a West African village for two years.

Early the next day we packed up a four-wheel drive vehicle and left for Dia's village. No air conditioning, 120 degree-heat and a view out the window of a world unlike anything I had ever seen or smelled. Diesel, garbage, human waste and human remains.

But that's not what stands out the most. People define a place, and West Africans are warm, humble people who share a deep faith. For most, faith is all they have in this poor country.

At the halfway point, we stopped for gas in the city of St. Louis. The next thing I knew, children were all around me asking me to take their picture. One little boy told me his name. Oumar. I won't forget that. I told him my name and we said goodbye.

We pulled into the Diorbivol 12 1/2 hours later, overwhelmed by a warm welcome. Women, children and elders chanted "America!" The experience moved us to tears.

Our translators, Gaye and Kamara, explained how the village feels about what happened to Dia in Colorado.

They told us that Dia was a gift from God and that his murder was his destiny. And Colorado's response to that murder, they say, has been something of a miracle.

They welcomed us to their village, prayed for us, then told us, "Because you are so far from your home and family, consider us your family and our village your home." I don't think we ever felt safer.

We slept outside under the stars on mats on the ground. At 5:30 a.m., a call to prayer blared from the loudspeaker in the village mosque. Then a donkey in the village offered his own version. We all burst into laughter.

Bill grabbed his video camera and we headed down to the river for the sunrise. We watched a little boy wash his horse. Then children gathered around us, and we were never alone again.

We watched women gather water from the well in the center of the village, then use it to wash their babies, clothes and dishes. The women do most of the work and carry just about everything on their heads.

The children attend the new school built with donations from Colorado. They use little sticks to count and then work out the math problems on individual chalkboards. When they have the answer they all hold up their chalkboards at once so the teacher can check their work.

These kids are smart, passionate and eager to show the world what they know.

Before we left the village, Dia's family offered us a goat, a big honor. But we explained how we had to fly back to the United States and couldn't bring it with us.

I brought along some gifts, including those little gifts-with-purchase from Clinique. Dia's wife and sisters loved them and smelled perfume for the first time. We also brought jump-ropes and taught the kids how to use them.

Then the elders gathered around us and prayed for a safe trip home.

I think their prayers were answered after our truck died at exactly the same gas station in St. Louis where we had stopped on our way to the village. Out of the blue, I heard my name and there was Oumar, the little boy I'd met on the way to the village.

He said, "Hello, Stephanie," and I said, "Hello, Oumar." I knew we were going to be just fine.

Pollution and dust had clogged our engine filter. Mechanics changed the filter and charged us $12. They don't charge for labor in West Africa!

We finally connected with News 4 and our families on the phone, and everyone was relieved to hear from us.

We made it back to Dakar and headed back to Denver through New York.

On the flight back, Bill and I got a little teary thinking about our new friends on the other side of the world and the man that wonderful village had lost. Bill and I would both love to go back.

Our new friend with the Peace Corps, Ted Lawrence, is spending the next year in a village. He's trying to build a school and make a difference. After only eight months, he already speaks the language fluently and knows the customs and manners.

Just a few lessons I learned from Lawrence:

1. He warned me not to acknowledge a pregnancy in the village, because that would curse the baby.

2. He explained how West Africans will tell you what you want to hear, so phrase your questions accordingly.

3. He saved us from some scams in the city and negotiated a few purchases in the downtown market.

4. Lawrence says he's become more patient and accepting. He also says he's never felt more alone in a village where he's always surrounded by people. I hope some big company hires him when he returns next year. The lessons he learned while living in a village for two years make him an asset to any business.

The biggest lesson I learned from this trip? No matter where you come from in the world, nothing will ever mean more than family and community.

It breaks your heart to see someone ripped away from his family because of hate. But the way Colorado responded to the loss restores one's faith in people.

Dia's father told me Colorado's reaction to his son's murder taught him there are more good people in America than bad.

He's right.