For the young people of Casamance, after the initiation... The party!

Cédric Djikila Diatta is 21 years old and that day, in his village of Casamance in the south of Senegal, land of culture and traditions of the Diola people, he enters in the eyes of his community in "Youth", an intermediate period between the late adolescence and entry into full adulthood.

In the red garment that encloses him, scarves of all colors hanging from his waist, pearl necklaces hanging from his neck, he dances, shows his muscles, feels invincible. Like a parenthesis in his life.

Around him, the companions of his generation. Same strength of age, same assurance. For a month, they rubbed shoulders, worked in the rice fields, learned the values ​​of their clan - respect, hospitality, discipline - during a secret apprenticeship shared by the elders, essential to integrate the community. and be heard there.

To become a man, "a true warrior", one must also know how to fight. From an early age, the Diolas learn the basics of this traditional sport, an institution in Senegal.

"This dance gives us courage for the fight," says Philippe Diatta, 22.

To the rhythm of tam-tams and the bombolong, a traditional elongated drum, young men jump to one side, then to the other, rubbing their dozens of metal bracelets against each other.

Some are bare-chested, others wear tunics, feathers, barrettes, charms... They turn, turn around, some brandishing swords, some sticks, and even fake snakes. Each generation proudly wears its attributes. Those who marry within the year are disguised as women.

- Practices under threat -

Time passes. the light is fading. But the fever increases, spreads throughout the neighborhood, which has come to gather in the shade of the two large cheesemongers and their huge soft green branches.

The young women joined the dance. They crowd around the men, wiggle their hips, laugh. Made up, the braids drooping, they take selfies, sing their happiness, apply powder to the sculpted bodies of their athletes.

The children are there, the old ones arrive. They are now hundreds on the square. The mothers gaze at their young, puffed up with pride. "He's my son. He's handsome!", shouts Cédric's mother, Angèle Antessey Diatta, with a bright smile on her face.

These celebrations marking the end of the initiation take place at the end of the rainy season - the rainy season - towards the end of September. They differ from one village to another, as does the teaching provided, which is always secret because it is sacred, notes anthropologist Abdou Ndukur Kacc Ndao.

The peoples of Basse-Casamance, originally animists, have maintained their initiations, unlike many others in Senegal, he recalls. "But these practices are threatened today. In 100 or 200 years, we can fear that they no longer exist".

In question, according to him, the increasingly predominant place of Islam, the interbreeding between ethnic groups, migration to other regions of Senegal or abroad, and modernity.

- Poverty -

But in Kabrousse, where the ceremony is held, initiation is taken very seriously. "For me, tradition is very important. Once you are initiated, you change your status. You are free to travel, to get married, to make decisions for the community", explains Cédric Diatta.

He shows his house. A dirt floor. Small rooms shared by four or five. No furniture. No toilet. No running water. A few basins here or there.

"Life is a fight," he says. “You always have to fight”.

He left school at 12 to help his parents in the fields and rice paddies. His father fell ill. Two of his brothers died due to lack of treatment.

After resuming training, he became a cook in one of the many hotels in Cap Skirring, a popular tourist destination for its wild beaches, green landscapes and relaxed lifestyle.

Every morning, he goes to work at 4:30 a.m., prepares food for customers, finishes at 3:00 p.m., then goes to the rice fields. He says he earns 80,000 CFA francs per month (about 120 euros), complains that he cannot access other positions for lack of connections.

His dream: to join Club Med, a top-of-the-range "holiday village" established in the city since 1973. "When you are hired there, you find the contacts to go live elsewhere," he says. A strong temptation for this young man who has never crossed the doors of his region of origin.