When the cost of living can cost you your life. That was the brutal reality of the 1980s in East New York, Brooklyn, a place so violent and neglected it earned the nickname “East Vietnam,” a grim metaphor drawn by residents themselves during the height of urban decay. In 1988 alone, New York City saw more than 1,800 murders, and East New York consistently ranked among the deadliest neighborhoods in America.
Walking home from school could mean crossing into another block’s territory, a line that sometimes decided who lived to see another day. Poverty and policing were both heavy, but mercy was scarce.
That same year, I was blessed to leave that concrete battlefield and travel to Senegal, West Africa. I was a teenager, raised with an Islamic foundation, but my mind was being shaped by the sinister rhythm of the streets, a rhythm that glorified survival over sincerity. Landing first in Medina Baye, Kaolack, was like stepping into another frequency altogether. What I found there was what I can only describe as high spiritual affluence, not measured in banknotes or possessions, but in peace, generosity and remembrance of Allah.
Electricity flickered off some nights. There were no fast-food chains, no late-night corner stores, no cold drinks on demand, no Wi-Fi to drown the stillness. But what there was, safety, community, a sense of purpose that wrapped around you like prayer beads, outweighed every comfort I’d left behind. In Brooklyn, the cost of living could take your life. In Kaolack, the cost of living meant giving up convenience in exchange for serenity.
Decades later, I returned to Senegal, older, grounded, and curious. I wanted to see how the country had evolved, especially Dakar, the capital that had become the nation’s economic and cultural heartbeat. Dakar today hums with the sounds of construction cranes, coastal traffic and Afrobeats leaking from cafés. But beneath the rhythm of progress, a practical question remains: what does it actually cost to live here now?
Current data paints a layered picture.
The average rent in Dakar for a furnished one-bedroom apartment in a regular neighborhood is around 686,000 CFA, roughly $1,170 a month, while the same in an upscale district climbs to over 1.2 million CFA ($2,000+). Smaller studios run between 289,000 and 462,000 CFA ($490–$790) (source).
Average monthly income across Senegal, though, sits at about 226,000 CFA, or about $380 (source). That gap defines the country’s modern challenge: a growing economy that hasn’t yet kept pace with urban housing demand.
Groceries, on the other hand, still allow for a humble but healthy lifestyle. Local staples, rice, fish, tomatoes, onions and bissap, keep monthly food costs for one person around 80,000 to 150,000 CFA ($135–$255), while a family of four might spend 200,000 to 350,000 CFA ($340–$600) (source). Electricity and water for an average apartment hover near 68,000 CFA ($115) per month, though air-conditioning can easily double that.
Transportation has improved dramatically.
A 30-minute Yango or Heetch ride across Dakar averages 5,000 CFA ($8.50), compared to $30–$40 for a similar Uber in the U.S. (source). Public minibusses still cost pennies, though comfort is relative. Entertainment feels balanced: a movie ticket costs about 5,000 CFA ($8), a cappuccino costs 2,500 CFA ($4), a gym membership costs 30,000 CFA ($50), and dinner for two costs 18,000 CFA ($30). You can live richly in experiences without spending lavishly in dollars.
Internet, once scarce, now threads through nearly every corner of the capital. Fixed broadband plans average 28,000 to 33,000 CFA ($45–$55) per month (source), with download speeds of 20–30 Mbps, good enough for streaming and remote work. 5G has arrived in limited zones, and mobile coverage continues to improve, though outages still remind you you’re in West Africa.
The pros of living in Dakar, for anyone earning foreign income, are clear: low daily costs, inexpensive transport, organic food, and access to a deep community. The cons —high rents, slow bureaucracy, and unpredictable internet —are the realities of a capital balancing rapid modernization with a traditional rhythm.
But beyond economics, there’s a truth that no spreadsheet can measure. I remember my first sunrise in Medina Baye: the call to prayer echoing through the dust-soft air, neighbors sweeping their doorsteps, children laughing on their way to Qur’an school. That memory returned to me decades later when I looked out over Dakar’s Corniche, the same Atlantic breeze, but a different kind of striving.
In East New York in 1988, the cost of living could steal your peace, your time, even your soul. In Dakar, the cost of living, even with its rising rents and modern complications, still buys something priceless: safety, stability and the rhythm of life in a land that measures wealth in contentment.
And while Dakar tells the story of a capital city chasing growth, Medina Baye tells another, one where simplicity and spirituality are the true currencies. That story, the cost of living in the village where I first arrived in 1988, is the next chapter, a closer look at how peace, purpose and affordability intertwine in the heart of Kaolack.
Stay tuned.
