It’s only a few days to the presidential votes in Senegal, and the capital Dakar seems gripped by election fever. With two peaceful changes of government so far and not one coup d’état suffered, Senegal is almost a ‘democratic exception’ in West Africa, and rightly proud of its history.

A distorted mix of drum beats, folk guitars and husky vocals turns into deafening noise as a battered minivan pulls a precariously fastened sound system through rows of houses. The dusty speakers blast the latest tune of Afro-folk duo Pape & Cheikh

Elections are a big deal here, and music is one of the most essential ingredients in the fight for votes. From morning to night, colourfully painted minibuses plough the streets, political platitudes and infectious drum beats blasting from battered speakers. Dozens of women, clad in wrappers adorned with politicians’ faces, and youngsters in party-sponsored T-Shirts follow the campaign trucks. Sand whirls up in the air, colouring it red. The population seems gripped by an electoral enthusiasm that has ceased to exist in Europe a long time ago. But is it really? ‘Anybody can buy enthusiasm for a few francs’, comments a student with a cynical smile, ‘all these people on the back of those trucks have been paid to be there. You’ll notice the same people in many of the processions. They just change the colours they wear.’

As night falls, small groups of people gather at the street corners of a Dakar neighbourhood to catch the last of the evening rays. The city’s frequent power cuts drive people out into the streets where a thousand stars spread more light than the flickering candles indoors. Conversations move quickly from electricity troubles to water cuts, lack of gas and the constantly rising cost of petrol.

‘In 2000, I could never have imagined that in seven years, I would see those tragic pictures of kids fleeing the country by pirogue’, says Senegalese rap star Didier Awadi, ‘our youth is gripped by despair. Too many promises were made in 2000 that haven’t been kept.’

A distorted mix of drum beats, folk guitars and husky vocals turns into deafening noise as a battered minivan pulls a precariously fastened sound system through rows of houses. The dusty speakers blast the latest tune of Afro-folk duo Pape & Cheikh into the peaceful streets – the official election anthem of the PDS, the party in power. ‘It drives me crazy’, rages one of the locals, ‘we sit in the dark, without any power or water, while some musicians who sold their soul tell us what a great man our president is.’ ‘Gorgui doliniou’ — give us more, big leader’ so the title of the song that currently hangs over Dakar like a permanent cloud. It’s a pretty tune, catchy, of course, but now impossible to listen to without conjuring up the blue-yellow colours of the PDS. Pape & Cheikh were already the PDS’s music masters during the last presidential elections in 2000. But back then, it was still ‘cool’, almost radical, to support the party and their reform programme. Back then, Pape & Cheikh’s national hit was called ‘Yatal Gueew’ – ‘let’s rock the boat’, a title that conjures up all the wrong images this year, as thousands of youngsters left the country for Spain in tiny wooden boats.

‘Barça oder Barsakh’ – reach Barcelona or carry on living like a dead man’ was the 2006 slogan of the Senegalese youth, the minds of many youngsters firmly set on the ‘Spanish Eldorado’. ‘In 2000, I could never have imagined that in seven years, I would see those tragic pictures of kids fleeing the country by pirogue’, says Senegalese rap star Didier Awadi, ‘our youth is gripped by despair. Too many promises were made in 2000 that haven’t been kept.’ Senegal’s hip hop scene is particularly disappointed by the current regime. In 2000, they played a hugely important role in persuading young people to vote – not for any particular party, just to exercise their democratic right. And the youth responded – by spraying sopi (change) on the walls, getting up on a Sunday morning and voting for ‘alternance’ – a change of government.

‘well, since the year 2000 we’ve been standing here with our arms raised. And quite honestly, I’m beginning to get cramps. You told me to stop buying candles, as there’d be no more power cuts. Well, Mr President, now I’m sitting in the dark.’ Xuman

This year, excitement has given way to wariness. ‘People aren’t interested in politics anymore, and the youth is even disgusted by it’, says Xuman, a lanky 2-meter-man and icon of the Senegalese hip hop scene, ‘What have we seen over the last couple of years? Corruption scandals and power games between politicians. Young people no longer feel that politics are of any concern to them.’ To shake them out of their lethargy, he has started his own campaign, one that combines dazzling creativity with razor-sharp commentaries. Only a couple of weeks before the elections, he celebrated the release of his latest album with a huge party of rhythms and rhymes, and invited the cream of Senegalese hip hop along. Booming beats shook the stage of the club Just 4 U, and the heat of his raps caused even the coolest hip hop pose to thaw. ‘Of course it’s not a coincidence, that I’m releasing this record now’, he laughs, ‘I wanted to give the youth something to help them make a better choice on the 25th of February.’ ‘Ndiombor – ya taay’ is the single that has heads bopping all across Senegal. ‘You asked all of those without money, opportunities and jobs to raise their hand’, Xuman addresses the president in the song, ‘well, since the year 2000 we’ve been standing here with our arms raised. And quite honestly, I’m beginning to get cramps. You told me to stop buying candles, as there’d be no more power cuts. Well, Mr President, now I’m sitting in the dark.’

While it’s easy to criticise the current government, it’s hard to recommend another. 12 men are running for the presidency, yet none of them stand out as a solid alternative. ‘I’ll vote’, says Xuman, ‘even though it’s hard to see any eligible candidates.’ And even if there were any, he probably wouldn’t opt for open support, knowing how quickly the winds of politics can change.

Hip hop observes the events with an angry frown, while Afro-folk dances to the happy rhythm of the leading party. And somewhere between the two styles, this year’s elections will be decided.