Berkley Center

In my first moment of peace I began documenting life in Dakar. I strove to see my world in words, to raze the barrier of language each idea must surmount before it hits the page and becomes a sentence.

Like many mornings I wake up coated in sweat, staring at the lifeless fan hanging above me. Ten hours ago the state-run utility company cut off our electricity, and the attendant physical discomfort elicits a singular frame of mind. At the very least, it provides an appropriate context to contemplate the challenges faced by an underdeveloped country.

Senegal’s tepid economy, for instance, stems from an underutilization of human capital. This is not a land of opportunity, local students tell me. Where nepotism and flimsy institutions reign supreme, college graduates leap at the chance to employ their talent elsewhere. Since know-how and transformative methods of production drive economic growth, this brain drain impedes a higher standard of living. How do you convince Senegal’s next groundbreaking innovator that staying at home is a worthwhile bet?

While these questions are macroeconomic in stature, their answers revolve around the individual and the culture he inhabits.

My letters from abroad will investigate the qualitative dimension of economic development in Senegal. An individual’s conception of time, productivity, and the family ought to figure in the formulation of sound policy. My task, then, is to grasp the cultural norms that govern the behavior of economic agents. After all, how can a doctor diagnose a patient he does not bother to understand?