Entrepreneurship in Senegal

Not 'the' beach, this one is further down the road on the Westernmost
point of the continent

After visiting the beach yesterday afternoon for a bit of R&R, my interaction with the local entrepreneur got me thinking about about entrepreneurship in Senegal. Something that exists on a completely different level to the capitalist entrepreneurship I am used do. Of course that does exist here, but to an extremely limited extent. Here is my experience, at my local beach – I go there because it is a 10 minute walk away, and I’m not actually sure there are any other beaches in a reasonable walking distance (I use the Australian definition of a beach here – where land meets ocean in the form of gently sloping soft sand into the water – some rocks are acceptable).

I sit down on the sand, specifically not taking advantage of one of the half broken umbrellas or partially torn up straw mats. Within seconds, I am approached by a hustler, calling me mon ami and asking for 2,000 CFA! Although this at some point in the conversation changed to 1,000 CFA, and I’m sure is different for every person at the beach, I wasn’t up for it. I figured this is a good opportunity to practice the little French I know, since the gentleman does not speak English. “Why?” I ask. He explains. I have little idea what he’s saying. We go back and forth, with half of the conversation being me telling him that I don’t understand or him telling me that he doesn’t understand English. My argument (armed with knowledge I gained from my colleagues) is that this is a public beach, I am not using any of his ‘equipment’, so why do I need to pay? His argument, I think, is that just like I have a job, he has a job, and it is related to the beach. It seems as though he is telling me that he cleans the beach and makes it look presentable. Admittedly, the beach does look a 100 times nicer than most public spots in Dakar. There is very little rubbish there, the sand and rocks are clearly separated in a way which didn’t occur naturally. Still, I argue – I a coming here to read my book and swim. If I use his services, I will pay. After 15 minutes he decides to leave me and give me free passage.

Love Of My Life

To my dearest Jessie,

I know that technically, I saved your life once, long ago, when we first met. But ever since then, I feel like you have saved mine countless times. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally. You have been with me as long as I have been an adult and although I feel like I have already abandoned you, I can't bear the thought of not being greeted by you ever again.

The true meaning of friendship

Hello. My name is Kevin and I've been diagnosed with a mental illness.

Whinging is my middle name, and this blog posting will probably demonstrate why. I have decided to 'come out' and write this because I have realised that there still massive prejudices and taboos in this world against mental illness. The phrase covers such a broad range of things, yet it evokes emotions in so many of the worst kind of disease possible. It is as if, ticking a form on a box saying you have a physical impairment causes people to immediately assume that you must have Ebola, without considering the possibility that you stubbed your little toe when you were 5 and the hairline fracture never healed properly, causing you a small amount of pain whenever you walk. Taboos in today's society which despite all the efforts of some great people and organisations around the world, still result in a massive amount of unbelievable discrimination. Given the statistics, I know there will be a few people reading this post who will at some point in their lives be in a similar situation to me, and I hope that they will learn from my mistake.

Depending on which statistic you see, mental illness affects somewhere around 20% of the population at some point in their lives (some stats indicate this figure is as high as 33%). But those numbers are immaterial. The key thing being, it affects many people I love, and it has affected me. As a result of this, I have been in the past, and still am today, discriminated against. No matter how many people rightly say that mental illness is "just another disease" and shouldn't be treated differently to any physical disease, it still is. The average person, and the average authority is scared of it and doesn't know how to deal with it. People do not understand it. Why it is easier for people to understand leukemia than depression, I have no idea. Neither are visible to the naked eye, yet for some reason, the 'physical' explanation is a lto easier for many to swallow.


I know that in personal relationships, honesty is always the best policy, but all of us are confronted by other situations where overt honesty leads to difficulties. Everyone in life has countless experiences of this, and I have had many small ones (take the example of admitting to being an asthmatic when wanting to SCUBA dive - I always achieve my goal in the end, but with a lot more effort and costs).

258km in 6 hours - The Road to Saint Louis

One restored building, and its mirror image across the street, 'about' to be restored

No, I haven't made it over to Missouri, USA. I have just headed up to a town which provides a strong reminder of the French presence in the area. Both because the town was named after the French king at the time (but seriously, to add 'Saint' in front, does seem a little obnoxious), and also because of the fact that Saint Louis served as the capital of French West Africa for over 2 centuries. The town, another one of Senegal's UNESCO World Heritage Listed sites is part crumbling to bits, and part remnants of its colonial past.

Above: Silting from the artificial break in the sand banks is very evident.
Below: the locals enjoying some colonial shade.

Going Colonial in Gorée

I have quickly realised that my blog entries about touristy things are going to be extremely different to what I'm used to writing. Primarily because tourism (which for me - is more or less doing or seeing something new in a different place) is totally different to what it is in Europe. Essentially, it is a lot more limited by that definition. There aren't that many places in Senegal that I would say I would want to go to from a tourist point of view (of course, this is solely my opinion). Either that, or my enthusiasm for travelling has waned a bit (possible, but less likely). Within Dakar, I don't have that much enthusiasm to go and 'see' things, but I guess that's because the few cultural sites are all in French, and there isn't really a heck of a lot of 'beauty' around. Nice architecture is lacking, as is places of natural beauty.

Enter two things to do. SCUBA diving, and visiting Gorée Island...

The Kindness of Senegalese (and work..)

The friendliness and generousity of people in Senegal cannot go unnoticed. Unfortuntaely, with my limited (or should I say, lack of) French, the only appreciation I seem to be able to show is "merci", or the occassional "merci beaucoup". It just doesn't seem to do it justice.

Musings on Dakar - Part 1 (most likely...)

Welcome to Léopold Sédar Senghor  (Dakar) International Airport 

I have only been here a short time, but I have already noticed so many things that stick out to me. Some of them stick out because I have simply been transformed to a different climate, different culture, different language and different life. Others though, simply do not have explanations because in any context, they simply do not make sense. In no particular order, this is my list of impressions of this hot country of which I have only touched upon...

• The unofficial taxi driver coalition in Dakar believes that if enough of their members honk at you, you will eventually get in one of their taxis and pay for a ride.

• In terms of equal standards, accommodation costs are slightly higher than Scadinavia, yet taxi rides are about one-twentieth the cost, even though the cost of fuel is roughly the same (on the other hand, the standard of the taxis themselves, can't really be compared...)

• It is nigh on impossible to find a self-service laundrette. But there are plenty of "pressing" shops that will clean your clothes (I have a feeling they actually dry-clean...) at a handsome cost per item (a load of basic washing just cost me 16,800 CFA / $33)

A busy round-a-bout with 3 Nescafe vendors (2 seen here, partly
blocked by a ubiquitous yellow taxi)

• Instant Nescafe from a street-seller in a tiny plastic cup is the height of coffee culture, and can be found on every street corner.

• Forget Japanese, European and American cars, Iranian and Indian cars rule the roads here!

• Forget BP or Caltex, here we have OilLibya!

• Like most non Anglo-Saxon Western coutries, the people are some of the most warm, welcoming and genuinely friendly people ever. Spend a day driving a new colleague aroundn to help him find an apartment? No problems. Invite a relative stranger into your house for a meal? Of ourse. Whilst overfriendliness tends to raise alarm bells with me, the worst thing that is likely to happen here as a result is daylight robbery by the street-seller or taxi driver.