Senegalese beach traders in Sardinia reflect diversity of African migration go Europe

Beach Towel Vendor

Spanish authorities are demanding help from the European Union, saying they’re overwhelmed with the 20,000 African migrants who’ve reached the shores of the Spanish-owned Canary Islands off the coast of Morocco this year. Those who’ve survived the perilous trip in crowded, open-top fishing boats are seeking employment in Europe in a bid to flee poverty in countries such as Senegal, Mali, Guinea and the Ivory Coast. But on another European island, a very different kind of African migration has been established for about ten years. For about seven months out of the year, Senegalese beach vendors comb the beaches of Sardinia, selling clothing and accessories to sunbathing tourists, and sending their earnings back home.

On the eastern coast of Sardinia, the relaxed town of Cala Gonone spreads comfortably at the bottom of a road that corkscrews around jagged limestone cliffs and ends at the warm turquoise waters of the Mediterranean. As in other beach communities, the souvenir shops, lively pizzerias and espresso bars cater to a steady flow of tourists in the summer season that's winding down this month.

Each vendor carries a couple of duffel bags, a rucksack, and hangers draped with scarves, shawls, t-shirts, trousers, sunglasses, caps and visors for sale

I was just leaving the Cala Gonone post office after buying some stamps for postcards when a 40-ish man from Senegal approached me and asked if I could help him fill out a form. He was in line to send a moneygram to his daughter back home. Although he spoke Italian fluently, he must have felt uncomfortable with a pen. I was baffled, but didn't want to embarrass him by asking if he was illiterate. His last name was Sarr-- a name as common as Miller or Jones in Senegal. As I took the pen to write ‘S-A-double R’ on the moneygram for him, it struck me how many of us take literacy for granted-- when a majority in many African countries can't read or write.

Then again, Mr. Sarr doesn't really need to master handwriting as a beach vendor, though he can clearly read numbers. He’s certainly not alone. Pick almost any one of the 200 stunning beaches photographed on the map that's taped to the door of the grocery store, and it's only a few minutes before you'll spot the tall Senegalese men in their bright print fabrics, wending their way through troops of European sunbathers parked in the sand.

Each one carries a couple of duffel bags, a rucksack, and hangers draped with scarves, shawls, t-shirts, trousers, sunglasses, caps and visors for sale. It seems much too hot to shop, but the vendors have a captive audience as they make their way from one end of the beach to the other. Their long, exhausting walks eventually pay off. Many of the vendors have legal residence in Italy; some of them don't. Either way, they're on friendly terms with the locals, who respect the Senegalese for living modestly to send home as much money as they can.

Back at the post office, Mr. Sarr submitted the moneygram with 60 euros cash he carefully unfolded from his wallet. Thanks to modern technology, his daughter would be able to collect that money in the Senegalese capital Dakar that same afternoon once he called her on his cellphone and gave her the code number on the transaction slip. The average tourist in Sardinia could easily spend 60 euros-- about 75 dollars--in a single day. But in west African currency, that's enough to feed a family of 6 for nearly a month. Given Senegal's high jobless rate, it's not hard to understand why the Senegalese fan out on almost every beach in Sardinia to sell their wares. People back home are depending on them.

Street vendor with African merchandise

When darkness falls and tourists stroll along the harbor after dinner, the vendors set up night market tables with African masks -- along with knicknacks from Kenya, jewelry from India, clothing and drums from Senegal, and fake Gucci bags from China. I asked a few Senegalese if they'd been following the story of their compatriots setting out in overpacked fishing boats bound for the Canary Islands--many of which take off from northern Senegal. Yes, they knew all about it. "Hundreds have drowned," I said, "why do they keep leaving when they know how dangerous it is? Are people talking about it back home? Without papers they won't be allowed to stay in Europe even if they make it."

"They don't see the danger," one of the vendors replied calmly. "They know it's a risk, but when they step into that boat, all they see is their future. They want to find work so they can survive and help their families. That's all they're thinking about."

In a recent document on migration, the UN recently referred to a number of African states as "lands of non-opportunity." As long as young Africans perceive their countries as poverty traps managed by governments that make promises but don't deliver, migrants will risk everything to look for a better life somewhere else. And some of them will find their way to the beaches of Sardinia, selling shawls and trinkets for the next moneygram.