When I met him, Thiam was already an old man who had a sculpture shop at the artists' market in the village of Soumbédioune, outside the city of Dakar in Senegal. Even though he was a Muslim, he had nevertheless been the most solicited sculptor of the Benedictine abbey of Keur-Moussa, whenever the Abbot needed a new sculpture made. After some thirty years of faithful services, he asked the monks to be released from his artistic “duties,” which of course they agreed upon. He continued to create beautiful objects that the people in my household really liked, and on several occasions I was sent to drop off an order or pick one up.
Soon the objects became a pretext for a visit, and whenever I could, I made a quick stop to his hut where he would offer his stool to protect my sailor's suit while he continued to work, sitting cross-legged on the sand. We spoke of religion, of course, and I must confess that I was pretty direct when we compared our respective beliefs.
Once I announced to him that I had been transferred and would leave soon. He made me promise to come back to say goodbye, which I did, of course. On that day he was waiting for me with a present. "Here," he said to me. "It’s the Madonna and Child in the Muslim crescent moon, representing our friendship!"
Hubert de Gévigney
Rear Admiral (2S) of the French Navy