Discovering Dakar’s future? An evening with young and aspiring tech entrepreneurs

Last Thursday, I happened to attend by chance an event for young Senegalese tech entrepreneurs. One of the organizers was a friend of a friend whom I had emailed the previous day and who suggested I stop by that evening to meet him. The evening proved interesting, as it exposed me to two faces of Dakar with which I had yet to interact, one by choice, the other by lack of opportunity: that of the luxurious four-star hotels, and the world of young entrepreneurs trying to make a difference.

The Pullman is a nice hotel, but the gates around
it reinforced my sense of stepping into a world
far removed from the Dakar I've come to know

The setting made sense for the event, but was unsettling for me: a very nice hotel on the Place de l’Indépendence, Dakar’s main square. Upon walking in I felt as though I were stepping into a different world: not just because of the guard and the gate at the entrance of the parking lot, but because of the odd, almost artificial deference with which the hotel staff treated me. After having become accustomed to being either a guest of a family (and sharing their meals and electricity outages), or a target for friendly hustles and smiling vendors, this polite, distant attitude troubled me.

I later realized the attitude of the hotel staff, while fully professional, lacked the characteristic warmth and authenticity of regular Senegalese interactions, in a town where you can have a pleasant conversation even with people peddling knock-offs on the street, and where people move between “tu” and the more polite “vous” within the same sentence.  

In this context, details took on a heightened importance, such as the fact that bathrooms not only had toilet paper (a first for me in Dakar), but also featured faucets offering hot and cold water – whether showering or washing my hands, every other place I have been so far just offered “water,” with no means to regulate temperature. 

The view from the hotel's terrace is spectacular, undeniably so.
(Immediately below me is the hotel swimming pool, a very secluded spot a stone's throw from the sea)

The shiny interior just added to the sense of a sanitized version of Senegal

Having processed my discomfort at the lack of warmth and (to me) excessive amenities, so far removed from the Dakar I’ve come to know and enjoy in the short time I’ve been here, I proceeded to the room where the event was, down shiny hallways and past brightly-lit conference rooms. 

Aspiring entrepreneurs listen and
take notes during a presentation

I met with Yann and other members of the incubator for which he works, CTIC – Dakar (http://www.cticdakar.com/), to learn more about the event’s theme. Yann explained it was a “Fail event,” to challenge perceptions of failure in a society that stigmatizes it heavily. This is in part due to the influence of a certain French mentality in which risk aversion often wins out. It also reflects social pressures in Senegal: if a worker is expected to provide not only for himself or herself, but also support his or her community, then starting a company and failing can have significant ramifications beyond the state of your own savings.

Throughout the evening, young entrepreneurs shared stories of failure and highlighted how it helped them. The evening featured testimonials from male and female entrepreneurs, who told their tales with doses of humor (often starting with “Hi, my name is X, and I’ve failed,” mimicking support groups to great laughter) to inspire others while making the notion of failure a banal and accepted aspect of launching a successful company.

A Senegalese entrepreneur tells of his failures, and how they contributed to his success today. 
Yann can be seen in the white shirt taking a picture of the speaker

The same experience, only magnified: walls
and gates to create an environment cut
off from the boisterous Dakar I enjoy

I later had a meeting at another, even nicer, hotel, the King Fahd Hotel and Palace, a luxurious resort built by Saudi Arabia for the 1990 Organization of the Islamic Conference summit in Dakar, and donated to Senegal thereafter. Upon arriving at the hotel, I felt the same sensation of seclusion and exclusion, of entering an artificial bubble.


Inside, it was the same thing I had noticed before: a gorgeous view of an empty sea, while people flock to the swimming pool. Having been fortunate to experience a little of the rich tapestry Dakar offers on a daily basis, it's still hard for me to believe that people would settle for such a mundane experience. I was happy to exit the gated area and leave its swimming pools behind me, and walk along dusty streets and sandy sidewalks where odors and colors, taxi drivers and street vendors, fight for your attention.

But I digress. 

During my evening with the tech entrepreneurs, it struck me that the young professionals, who lived in conditions similar to that of my host family, and clearly enjoyed being in the environment of the hotel, were similar to young Americans in many regards: as they settled into their seats, they took out laptops and smartphones; some even sported Beats headphones. Here were young professionals with drive and vision, the young people I’d often heard about in the speeches, of U.S. officials and others, promoting Africa’s potential. I couldn’t stay for long during the ensuing cocktail, but left the group feeling inspired, and excited to have encountered yet another face of Dakar, one that exhibited tremendous drive and determination, and inspired sincere hope they would succeed.

Fatou and Demba watch a movie on
my laptop, with evident fascination
(despite the moving being in English)

Their rapport to technology reminded me of Fatou’s, but also illustrated the gulf that separated this group of educated young professionals from my host family’s milieu. Fatou is fascinated with my smartphone, having seen smartphones on TV, and often asks to accompany me to the café when I work so she can go on her Facebook account (which was created for her by a previous American visiting scholar placed with her family by the same think tank that put me in touch with them).

Fatou, who has never used a computer, is excited about the possibility technology offers to encounter new ways of doing things. She uses my phone to chat with her best friend who lives a few blocks away, and to watch episodes of her favorite Senegalese shows on YouTube. I’ve since noticed she will even will sneakily take selfies with my phone, when I'm not looking, mimicking the poses (and unfortunate trends, such as the “duck face”) of American teenage girls, before running home to play with her friends in the street. 

For the aspiring entrepreneurs, on the other hand, technology had become a part of their daily life, and a way to achieve success, not only for themselves but to support their communities – directly, by redistributing resources from their successful ventures, and indirectly, by changing the way communities operate, which was the focus of many of these socially-minded aspiring entrepreneurs. 

Walking back Google Senegal's headquarters, I came across this small stall, a scene which to me
illustrated the contrasting levels of technology that rhythm daily life in Dakar

In a city where cell phones remain by far the most efficient means of reaching someone, with email a remote option further down the list (smart phones have started to spread, but remain rather rare in my experience), technology contributes to Dakar's apparent fascination with Western, and especially American, trends and culture. Its integration in Senegalese life will take place with typical Senegalese contrasts, as entrepreneurs use technology to meet local challenges and build from within rather than disrupt the traditional social fabric, like the young entrepreneur I met who wanted to create a mobile payment platform for all the street vendors in Dakar.