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As dusk falls on the ramshackle neighbourhood of Guediawaye, on the outskirts of Dakar, hundreds of young men and boys in loincloths and Nike shorts are being put through their paces by trainers brandishing whistles.
In their hundreds, the athletes drop to the ground and, seemingly effortlessly, run off dozens of push-ups while the trainer shouts encouragements from the sandy training ground.
Young kids sell peanuts around the edges of the patch of land, which is strewn with rocks and rubbish.
They watch eagerly as these bright young stars of the country's booming wrestling industry get ready to grapple with their opponents, hoping to throw them to the ground in an athletic display of strength, skill and style.
Only a few of the more than 200 men who belong to this school will make it on to the professional wrestling circuit.
For those that do, the stakes are high. The young men who make it up the ranks can look forward to winning up to 100 million West African CFA francs ($205,000) per game.
In one of the world's poorest countries, where the average annual income is $980 according to the World Bank's latest figures, this will make them part of the country's financial elite and national heroes to the millions of men and women who follow the game.
Humble beginnings
Senegalese wrestling began in the villages, when farmers who only worked during the fertile rainy season would pass the time with this traditional African sport that has been practised across the continent for hundreds of years.
 Mohamed Ndao, also known as Tyson, was a wrestling pioneer in Senegal |
During the dry seasons, the farmers would come to the cities looking for work. There they found an audience of people keen to watch and bet on the matches.
As the sport gained in popularity, it began to take on elements of martial arts, incorporating boxing, judo and karate, as well as the traditional elements of African wrestling.
In the 1990s, Gaston Mbengue, a Senegalese sports promoter, started to stage matches that allowed bare-fisted fighting.
In one of the only countries in the world where this kind of fighting is legal, this modern twist revolutionised the sport and turned it into a multi-million dollar game that now attracts more fans than any other sport, including football.
With fans flocking to the stadiums - one match can attract up to 80,000 people - commercial companies are desperate to get their brands into the ring, from where the images will be beamed on television screens to millions of viewers across the country.
"The main sponsors are the telecommunications companies," says Serigne Sarr, head of marketing at the state-owned television station Radiodiffusion Television Senegalaise, which televises the matches put on by Mr Mbengue.
"It wasn't hard to sell them sponsorship rights, because they go where there is an audience. Since wrestling attracts a lot of people, they are necessarily interested by it too."
 Gaston Mbengue created the Senegalese wrestling boom |
While the wrestling scene bristles with rumours of how much money is earned in this famously-secretive game, RTS's Mr Sarr says that the game attracts between half and one billion CFA francs ($1m-2m) in sponsorship money a year.
While Senegal failed to qualify for both the World Cup and the African Cup of Nations in the last two years, the audiences have flocked to wrestling and left football out in the cold.
"The future of wrestling is bright," says Mr Sarr. "The whole thing is managed professionally now, like football."
Gaining respect
When wrestling first became popular as an urban sport, parents were unhappy about their children going into the game.
It was seen as the pastime of thugs who typically had very little formal education and did not speak French, the administrative language of Senegal, a former French colony.
"The first fight where someone earned a million CFA francs was like a miracle," says Pape Konate, a 31-year-old wrestler who goes by the name of Capitaine PK when in the ring and weighs in at 100kg.
 Audiences in Senegal now favour wrestling over football |
His body rippling as he hoists weights above his head in one of the city's gyms, he remembers how in 1995 a young wrestler called Tyson, named after the American boxer, was offered 15 million CFA for a fight.
"When we young wrestlers love wrestling, it's because of Tyson," he says between sets of exercises.
"Back then, wrestlers weren't taken notice of, but he had a good intellect, he spoke French well.
"He came on to the scene with his image and then the sponsorship started to follow him. He had a match for 15 million CFA and kept on pushing to 30 million CFA.
"That's when people started to take notice of the sport. Tyson woke things up."
Reducing crime
Nowadays the sport is considered one of the few routes to financial success in a country which is becoming increasingly poor.
Senegal dropped 10 places in the United Nations Human Development Index in 2009 to become the world's 17th poorest country.
"Wrestling has been able to reduce crime and delinquency in the suburbs," says Aboubacry Ba, one of the country's best-known sports journalists.
"Young people now train hard and they can earn money from their work. Before, they didn't have any work, they were in the suburbs getting into drugs and fighting.
"But now, with wrestling, they have a healthy occupation. It's a job which has really been able to turn the youth around, reduce unemployment and crime."
Pape Konate, set to become one of the country's wrestling stars, agrees. He gets up at 0500 and runs 20km along the beach and then trains in the gym throughout the day.
In the evening, he comes to the wrestling school to spar with the other young wrestlers, a routine which is physically gruelling and keeps him occupied in a country where half the population are unemployed.
"Wrestling is our work and it's a proper profession now," says Konate. "You have to work hard and concentrate to get to the highest level.
"Tyson is stepping down now, so it's us, the next generation. I'm working to be a big champion and to retire at 45, exceedingly rich."
Wherever you go in Senegal, fish is always on the menu. But not only is it an important part of the diet here - it's a crucial way of people making a living. In the small town of Kayar, 60km from the capital, Dakar, fishing is what people know best. It's a family thing: fishing has sustained generations of townspeople. But the very industry that has kept the town afloat for countless years is in danger of sinking. Catches are dramatically down. Many fingers here are being pointed at the big, sophisticated foreign boats which are allowed to fish in Senegalese waters. The government says it has taken steps to address these concerns and has cut down the number of European boats permitted to a mere handful. But that reassurance cuts little ice here. Fish shortage Abdoul Aziz Dieng has fished all his adult life. Now, though, things look grim. "There is a real shortage of fish," he says. "All our revenues come from fish. If there is a shortage, it affects all areas of everyday life. Things are very hard and I don't have enough money to look after my family." It's not just the men who haul the fish out of the sea who are hurting. The women who dry and smoke the fish are also suffering. Codou Diop represents them. She says there has been a real reduction in activity because of the shortage of fish. Not so long ago, they used to sell hundreds of boxes of fish, but now they only sell a few. That has reduced the income for the entire town, so people have less money to spend on dried fish. Infrastructure problems But the industry has more than just foreign ships to worry about. Despite the shortage of fish, it has an increasing abundance of fishermen. People have flocked to towns such as Kayar to escape hard times in other sectors, like agriculture. And then there is the poor infrastructure. Many people cannot afford the refrigeration or transport necessary to sell their fish in more lucrative urban markets. So, paradoxically, some fishermen are actually having to throw fish away - at a time when they are struggling to catch them in the first place. Self-help Hard times mean hard measures are required. So the industry is busy reorganising itself. This includes putting weekly limits on the number of times people can set out to sea.
Abdoulaye Diop represents fishermen throughout the country and says the industry is acting to save itself. "We have decided to manage the resources and organise ourselves," he says. So they have introduced a fishing rota. People can only fish a few days a week. Abdoulaye Diop says they do not want to waste resources and that it is the industry's responsibility to manage what they get from the sea. So there are also self-imposed limits on the age and size of fish which may be caught. The industry hopes these measures will help see them through turbulent times. The future of the next generation could ride on their success. | |||
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