PAPA AND THE WAVES

On the beaches of Dakar, most surf schools are built by foreign investors—fueled by resources that remain out of reach for most locals. But Papa, 23 years old, is different. He built his own. From nothing.

In Yoff, the neighborhood where he grew up, the streets are always alive. Anonymity seems inevitable—except for Papa. He knows everyone, and everyone knows him. If he’s not strolling through the narrow alleys, he’s in the water. That’s where he belongs. “I come from the people of water.” he says.

His closest friends, Big and Beisedi, have been by his side since childhood. Football was once their world—until one evening, a friend lent Papa a surfboard. He stayed in the water until nightfall—hooked. Soon, Big and Beisedi followed.

Papa started buying old surfboards, fixing them up. Today, he rents a small hut on Virage Beach. He maintains his boards, patches wetsuits, keeps everything going. The beach owner, Illimann, keeps things in order. He cleans the sand, repairs chairs, makes tea for everyone.

It doesn’t take long to see that Papa, Beisedi, and Big are more than just friends—they are a unit. They share a cookie without a word, carry each other’s boards to the hut. Sharing is second nature to them. Papa is their leader, not because he stands above them, but because he takes responsibility. He is building the surf school not just for himself but for his two friends as well.

The beach is quiet, slow, unhurried. But the ocean is different. There, they shout, they cheer, they celebrate each other. When one of them catches a perfect wave, they all light up.