This summer, I returned to Senegal with a different question: not where people play football, but what football means to them. From the Door of No Return on Gorée Island to the streets, beaches, and dusty pitches of Dakar. I began to see how deeply the game is daily woven into Senegalese identity, pride and everyday life.
Photo: Salmen Ayadi
Located off the coast of Dakar, Senegal, Gorée Island is a UNESCO World Heritage site and a peaceful island that bears the weight of human history. The island is often associated with the slave trade and forced displacement of Black Africans from their homes and families between the 15th and 19th centuries through the transatlantic slave trade to the Americas and the Caribbean Islands. The House of Slaves and the Door of No Return stand as symbols of the immense loss and the forced departure experienced by generations of West Africans over many centuries.
Yet, Senegal's story did not end there. Through centuries, Senegalese society has carried a remarkable legacy of endurance, unity, and, perhaps most visible today, a profound collective passion for football.
Inside the House of Slaves, the Door of No Return stands as one of the most haunting monuments in humanity's history. Gorée Island, Dakar. June 2026
Photo: Salmen Ayadi
This is my second time stepping on Senegal's soil, after the country captured my heart during an unplanned road trip from Agadir to Dakar last year in June 2025, born out of pure serendipity and a desire to explore the country's football culture. That first journey alone completely changed my perspective on the game and how I see football today. I owe much of that change to Senegal and its people, through whom I became more interested in the social implications of football on societies and how it can serve as a powerful tool to drive positive change within a community.
This time I did not go there to watch football; I went there to understand what football means to Senegal.
Through my observational lens and travel photography, I began to understand the intangible influence that football can have on everyday life: in Senegal, football is quietly worn. Football shirts have been turned into everyday work attire by countless people, and jelly beach sandals are repurposed as everyday footwear for young people and adults who play the game. They are cheap, accessible, and versatile, designed to let people play football, build strength and earn resilience from childhood.
Additionally, seeing pictures and videos of the parade in Dakar on social media the day after the dramatic AFCON 2025 final victory over Morocco, along with the collective pride, national frenzy, celebrations, and the colours of Senegal, prompted me to schedule a second trip to Dakar. I just had to be there to experience how this society lives the World Cup, as the Lions of Téranga had booked a spot at the 2026 World Cup in North America for the 4th time in its history.
If I had to portray Dakar, I would describe the city as an open-air gallery of sun-faded, versatile football shirts worn every day by people from different demographic groups on the streets. Dakarois wear football tops as part of their everyday life, practically serving as workwear, casualwear, beachwear, and even prayer wear, from walking street vendors, artisans, masons, and fishmongers to casual beachgoers, just as football shirts appear everywhere, woven into the fabric of everyday life in Senegal.
Through football shirts, I observe the world, connect with its people, and tell their stories.
Beyond the workshops, the youth of Dakar have also embraced current fashion and streetwear trends; they have taken football shirts in their own direction, styling their outfits with football shirts from the English Premier League, such as Crystal Palace F.C. and Everton F.C., paying homage to Senegalese players representing the country abroad, including Idrissa Gana Gueye and Ismaïla Sarr. You can spot them wandering across Dakar's suburbs and beaches or in their social gatherings over a brew of café Touba in the neighbourhood. The conversations always revolve around European football results, transfer rumours, who might win the World Cup, or even the eternal debate over who is the best player in the world, Lamine Yamal or Kylian Mbappé?
As every afternoon, and when the heat subsides, from the streets of Dakar to the shoreline and the dusty pitches, Dakar comes alive again, filling its streets, beaches, parks, and public spaces with intense movement, exercise, and training sessions. Dressed in their football shirts, Dakarois head straight to the outdoor gyms along the city's promenade, fill up the concrete courts for football drill sessions, or head to the shoreline of Yoff to work out, run, wrestle, or play beach football.
Despite Dakar's limited infrastructure and resources, a remarkable level of sports engagement is evident among Senegal's young men and adults, with activities that promote an active lifestyle, which is astonishing. Although the country is rich in raw football talent and boasts an immense passion for football, there are many structural challenges holding Senegal's football industry back from propelling and becoming a prosperous ecosystem, such as poor governance of football bodies, a lack of investment in grassroots and youth development, and significant financial constraints in the national league.
Standing high above Dakar and a symbol of African identity and dignity, the African Renaissance Monument is also a powerful source of pride for the Senegalese. The monumental sculpture was inaugurated in 2010 to commemorate Senegal's 50th anniversary of independence, embodying the ideals of African emancipation and self-determination.
During national matches, this colossal landmark transforms into a vast social gathering place, where Senegalese of different generations come together to share unity and pride. Beneath the monument, football becomes a shared national language, unifying people in a collective experience of belonging and emotion as Senegalese gather to cheer for the Lions of Téranga, representing the country in the World Cup. Unfortunately, Senegal, in its opening match in the World Cup, lost to France 3-1 while I was among the massive crowd of supporters at the Africain Renaissance Monument, experiencing the unexpected.
At Gorée Island and inside the House of Slaves, I was moved by the palpable weight of the island’s history, as conveyed through the tour guide's sorrowful stories of forced displacement. I stood alone, thinking about the lives that passed through The Door of No Return, separated from families and homes, forced across the ocean to an unknown future. Across Dakar and the region of Casamance, I witnessed very different people gathering, training, surfing, playing, wearing their colours with pride, and celebrating together, claiming their identity on their own terms. Football cannot erase history, nor should it. Still, it has become one of the languages through which Senegal continues to tell the world its story of resilience, identity, and passion.
Ultimately, I came to Senegal thinking I would understand how a country experiences football. I leave with the understanding that football is only one chapter in a much larger story about identity, pride and belonging.













































