Migration is not just movement. It is a memory, struggle and sometimes, return. In this article, three Senegalese individuals open up about their journeys in pursuit of a better life beyond borders. Khalil Baldé, once an irregular migrant from Dakar, now resettled in Mbour, reflects on his ordeals in North Africa. Fallou Diop, from Guédiawaye, shares the urgency and illusion that pushed him toward the West. And Ndeye Rokhaya Ndoye recounts the challenges she faced in neighbouring Mali. Their stories form a powerful triptych of resilience, disillusionment and the enduring search for dignity.
Khalil Baldé, violence from the start
After four failed attempts to reach Europe, Khalil Baldé now works as a taxi-clando (informal taxi) driver. In his spare time, he is dedicated to raising awareness about the realities of irregular migration. “Like many of my compatriots, I tried several times to reach Europe: first through Libya, then Algeria and finally Morocco,” he says. “Today, through the Boza Fii Association in particular, I’ve been able to dissuade several young people from taking the sea or desert routes. We need to make them understand that going to Spain, Italy or France doesn’t guarantee success – especially when you risk your life just getting there.” Baldé shares more about the motivations behind his repeated attempts: “In the Senegalese context, the first form of violence is the pressure from family and society. Expectations like having a home or getting married pushed me to undertake the journey. I’m just one example among many.”
Reflecting on his experiences, Mr. Baldé admits that much of his journey was marked by impetuous decisions – memories he prefers not to revisit. “The life of an irregular migrant never really ends,” he says. “Even after crossing the desert or the ocean, they still have to survive in transit countries. In Algeria, for example, migrants aren’t allowed to rent a room, let alone a house. They also have no access to the banking system. And that’s just one of the many challenges migrants face when they are far from home.”
ECOWAS passport is ‘worthless’, Fallou Diop laments
Fallou Diop, from Guédiawaye, a suburb of Dakar, says that social pressure remains the primary reason behind his decision to migrate. “Some situations are simply revolting,” he explains. Although he acknowledges the dangers of irregular migration, including the risk of torture along the route, Diop is especially critical of the ECOWAS passport, which he sees as symbolic but ineffective. “In my opinion, the ECOWAS passport doesn’t really exist. In Mali, for example, you need at least 20,000 CFA francs just to cross the border. If you don’t pay, you’re tortured. It’s the same across West Africa. This document, which was supposed to facilitate the free movement of people and goods, is absolutely useless to us,” he says. He goes on to add: “The only language border guards understand is money – CFA francs. And if not money, then it’s verbal abuse, another form of violence, one that could be described as administrative or even diplomatic in nature.”
Violence is a continental issue, Ndeye Rokhaya Ndoye deplores
In the pursuit of a better life, physical violence is often the most visible, but psychological and economic violence can be just as damaging and sometimes even more enduring. Ndeye Rokhaya Ndoye experienced this firsthand during her time in Bamako, Mali. “I managed to open a restaurant in Bamako. Business was going fairly well, but the landlord kept raising the rent. On top of that, I faced constant harassment – sometimes bordering on xenophobia. Still, I endured it all because my priority was to work and provide for myself and my family,” she recalls.
Originally from Bargny, in the Rufisque department of Senegal, her story takes an even more painful turn. “One day, the landlord came and threw us out. For a week, my niece and I slept under the sky,” she says. Now back in Senegal, Ms. Ndoye expresses her deep disappointment at the lack of support from diplomatic authorities during her ordeal and is equally critical of the silence of fellow Senegalese nationals living in Bamako.
