Growing up, Africa always felt like a distant, unfathomable place. My perception of the continent was molded by Disney movies, documentaries about war refugees, and infomercials asking for aid to feed starving children. I didn’t actually know anyone from Africa. It was just a map on my classroom wall — a place where wealthy people go on safaris, a place where Homo sapiens originated.
It’s no coincidence that by the time I was 31, I had been to every inhabited continent except Africa — an afterthought travel destination for most, including me. But, in May 2023, when I finally did step off a plane in Madagascar and soak in my surroundings, it felt rather momentous; I had finally arrived in Africa. Something about immersing myself in a busy African city loudly reminded me that 1.5 billion people live on the continent. And it’s largely populated by young people. By 2050, one in four humans on Earth will be African.
While I was recently living in Senegal, I pondered those statistics. As I watched the horse-drawn carts noisily clopping down the sandy streets, street vendors selling micro bags of peanuts and dates, and young men filling brick molds with cement, I had a realization: This is, and will increasingly be, the human experience for a not insignificant chunk of the world. The world I experienced as a child is the exception. Anyone who wants to gain a more complete understanding of the world should not skip over Africa.
My five weeks in Dakar were different than my last experience in Sub-Saharan Africa, when I traveled extensively around Madagascar, Mozambique, and South Africa. This time, I mostly stayed put in one place, rented a room for the month, created a routine, and did my best to mix into society.
On my last night in Senegal’s capital, while having dinner with two surf friends, they asked me my impressions of Senegal. I was surprised by how difficult it was to formulate a response. Life in Senegal just felt…normal. Maybe it was a testament to how accustomed I had become to adapting to and living in new countries over these past few years of traveling. Senegal was the 20th country I’d been to since commencing the nomad lifestyle in 2021.
But it was also a good thought exercise: What did I think of Senegal? When I think of Senegal, I think of the hawks that dominate the urban skyscape. I think of men walking down the street with a bushel of baguettes. I think of the 5 a.m. Ramadan wake-up calls from the mosque down the street. I think of the dirt on the soccer field in Ngor that has turned into fine dust and creates a haze through which you have to watch the games. I think of the disparity between the poor and rich; the contrast of penniless young men building fancy highrises for wealthy foreigners, many of whom come to Dakar to work at aid organizations or embassies. I think of the little kids who would grab my wrists and persistently beg for money.
But the biggest takeaway is that life unfolds in Dakar just like anywhere else in the world; it’s not wildly different just because it’s Africa. People go to the grocery store. People sit in traffic during their morning commute. The rich drive fancy cars and the poor pile into packed buses. The police will pull over a taxi driver and demand a dollar. People buy coffee from street vendors and warn you to watch out for pickpockets. Of course, there are distinctive qualities that make Senegal…Senegal. But life works just like the rest of the world.
Anywhere I travel, I always try to use surfing as my universal language, a portal beyond the surface-level tourist experience. Senegal has an interesting surf scene, a mix of homegrown surfers and expats. The community isn’t too big, so eventually you get to recognize everybody. The foreigners are much more committed to chasing the best conditions across the different spots, of which there are many in Dakar, whereas I noticed that the local guys are more content with surfing the same spots every day.
In Dakar, the surf spots are mostly reef breaks with pesky urchins covering the rocks. The urchins add a certain edge of danger to every session, so you are never fully at ease. Every tube or end section requires a quick risk/reward assessment — the probability of rolling across a mattress of urchin spines. Overall, I’d say the surf was decent in Dakar, but not world-class if you are focused solely on waves. The crowds were minimal to manageable, and given the city’s location on the western edge of the continent, it rarely goes flat. There was almost always something to surf during my five-week stay.
I chose to live in Dakar because it’s the most consistent place for surfing in Senegal. Living in a big city has its perks, like grocery stores, access to an international airport, and lively nightlife. But in the few instances that I got to escape the city, I was enamored by the Senegalese village life. Dakar is considerably pricier than the rest of the country, and I enjoyed the no-shoes, no-rush pace of life when I spent a weekend in a village on the Sine Saloum delta. Moreover, the chilly Atlantic Ocean currents that surround the peninsula of Dakar keep the weather quite temperate (at least in the spring). Once you leave the peninsula, the temperatures skyrocket, which I’ve actually grown to prefer after living in the hot-as-hell climates of Brazil, India, and Reunion Island.
When I say that Dakar is not so different than anywhere else in the world, don’t get me wrong. Senegal is a “developing” country, and getting by in Dakar is a grind. Many of the country’s youth are faced with the dilemma of whether or not to embark on the perilous journey to Europe. I often struggled to rationalize the stark contrast in purchasing power between me and my neighbors. As I got to recognize the faces of the same children who worked the streets of my neighborhood begging for money, I felt equal parts guilty and lucky that I never had to endure such conditions as a child.
During my stay in Dakar, I never felt I had stumbled upon my forever home. But the whole time I was there, I saw the value in filling in my knowledge gaps about life in West Africa. I enjoyed sharing waves with the surfers of Dakar, sampling the baguette-based street sandwiches packed with beans, watching dusty soccer games, immersing myself in Senegalese-accented French, and intertwining my story with the paths of those whom I met. I still have barely seen the tip of the iceberg in terms of exploring Africa, but five weeks in Senegal only further fueled that desire to return to the continent and continue the adventure.
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