Live at MyShopDAKAR, Senegal–In France, cafes are closing in record numbers in light of a down-turned economy and recent smoking regulations, causing some to wonder whether or not the culture of the French cafe is disappearing little by little as doors continue to close.  Here in Dakar, however, where there are surprisingly few French cafes, the culture is thriving, albeit at an unlikely location: the gas station.

Live at Cafe Myshop

MyShops are similar to any one-stop travel plaza in the United States, with a small convenience store and a court of fast-food eateries.  Only while in American travel plazas one finds a few weary truckers and a lot of really tired people dreading their return to the highway, MyShops are home to a vibrant social culture not unlike the fabled French cafes of old.

Here, one can find nearly every social strata Dakar has to offer.  On a Friday night like this one, people sit in green plastic chairs on the patio that stretches the length of the convenience store, and an empty chair is not to be found.  Young toubabs (white people) choosing to forego one of the many bars so as to drink four dollar bottles of wine under the blinding florescent lights, the young nouveau riche of Senegal in their hipster clothes held up by bejeweled dollar sign belts, families who have brought their children to a rewarding dinner at Pizza Inn, old French Ex-Pats begrudgingly smoking cigarettes with their presumably rich Senegal counterparts.  Small children race about young couples on a romantic night out, groups of men having intimate conversations over who knows what, but probably football and politics.  One man is dressed in a grand boubou, appearing to be some sort of religious leader; a child in rags begs through the metal railing.

The social scene at a MyShop epitomizes every socio-intellectual aspect of French cafe culture, only with an air of the superficial amidst the flimsy plastic chairs showered in gleaming florescent lights, almost as a artificial placeholder for the cafes of old.

Like America’s diner culture, there is something undeniably real about a French cafe, something grand and extraordinary, steeped in tradition and shrouded in marble walls and enclosed in wrought iron fences–an elitism, not of people, but of culture. Here at Cafe MyShop, however that elitism of marble and wrought-iron, hardwood interiors and cobblestone sidewalks is sacrificed to the linoleum and plastic-y florescent, vinyl tablecloths of superficiality and weakness.

Despite these chintzy surroundings, the culture of the French cafe is alive and well here in Dakar, even if there aren’t any real cafes to support it.  While sustaining a popular platform for people of all spectrums to gather in a spirit of discussion and camaraderie, MyShops leave one feeling encased in plastic and florescence, wishing only they could be gathered with friends on the Paris streets of old.

By Thomas Gilchrist 

DAKAR, Senegal–In France, cafes are closing in record numbers in light of a down-turned economy and recent smoking regulations, causing some to wonder whether or not the culture of the French cafe is disappearing little by little as doors continue to close.  Here in Dakar, however, where there are surprisingly few French cafes, the culture is thriving, albeit at an unlikely location: the gas station.

MyShops are similar to any one-stop travel plaza in the United States, with a small convenience store and a court of fast-food eateries.  Only while in American travel plazas one finds a few weary truckers and a lot of really tired people dreading their return to the highway, MyShops are home to a vibrant social culture not unlike the fabled French cafes of old.

Here, one can find nearly every social strata Dakar has to offer.  On a Friday night like this one, people sit in green plastic chairs on the patio that stretches the length of the convenience store, and an empty chair is not to be found.  Young toubabs (white people) choosing to forego one of the many bars so as to drink four dollar bottles of wine under the blinding florescent lights, the young nouveau riche of Senegal in their hipster clothes held up by bejeweled dollar sign belts, families who have brought their children to a rewarding dinner at Pizza Inn, old French Ex-Pats begrudgingly smoking cigarettes with their presumably rich Senegal counterparts.  Small children race about young couples on a romantic night out, groups of men having intimate conversations over who knows what, but probably football and politics.  One man is dressed in a grand boubou, appearing to be some sort of religious leader; a child in rags begs through the metal railing.

The social scene at a MyShop epitomizes every socio-intellectual aspect of French cafe culture, only with an air of the superficial amidst the flimsy plastic chairs showered in gleaming florescent lights, almost as a artificial placeholder for the cafes of old.

Like America’s diner culture, there is something undeniably real about a French cafe, something grand and extraordinary, steeped in tradition and shrouded in marble walls and enclosed in wrought iron fences–an elitism, not of people, but of culture. Here at Cafe MyShop, however that elitism of marble and wrought-iron, hardwood interiors and cobblestone sidewalks is sacrificed to the linoleum and plastic-y florescent, vinyl tablecloths of superficiality and weakness.

Despite these chintzy surroundings, the culture of the French cafe is alive and well here in Dakar, even if there aren’t any real cafes to support it.  While sustaining a popular platform for people of all spectrums to gather in a spirit of discussion and camaraderie, MyShops leave one feeling encased in plastic and florescence, wishing only they could be gathered with friends on the Paris streets of old.

photos, Thomas Gilchrist