After the colonisers have gone: the complex soul of Cape Verde
“Yesterday is gone, today is here, and we don’t know if tomorrow will come”
Our local guide casually delivered the line, a philosophy of survival wrapped in a shrug. In Sal, the tourist hub of the Cape Verde (Cabo Verde) archipelago, this sentiment hangs in the air as tangibly as the salt spray from the Atlantic. While most travellers arrive seeking the ‘African Caribbean’ escape, those who look past the resort gates will find a nation navigating a heavy and traumatic history.
The Allure of the Island
At first impression, Sal is a masterpiece of raw geography. Wild waves batter a rugged, volcanic coastline, giving way to the vibrant town of Santa Maria. Here, the streets are a sensory explosion: cafes hum with music, and shops overflow with kaleidoscopic textiles and hand-carved crafts. Moving away from the town, visitors are enticed by the surf, salt flats and the medicinal waters of Pedra de Lume, catching a glimpse of lemon sharks in the shallows or desert expeditions, driving through a lunar-like landscape that feels untouched by time.
A Young Nation, The Historical Scar
Despite its beauty, Sal is a land of scarcity. With minimal rainfall and few natural resources, the island relies on a service economy dominated by tourism which accounts for the majority of the national income.
This is a young country in every sense. Cape Verde is made up of 10 islands with a population of just over 500,000. With an average age of under 30 years the energy is undeniable. Yet this youthful spirit is haunted by a traumatic historical legacy. Discovered by the Portuguese in 1462 and with no indigenous population, Cape Verde served as a dark crossroads for 500 years, where enslaved Africans were held before being shipped to the Americas.
Profiting from the human, natural resources and agricultural trade, independence from Portugal finally arrived in 1975, but five centuries of colonisation do not vanish overnight. The departing colonisers left behind a country without the physical, social and educational infrastructure needed for people to thrive, leaving a vacuum that global tourism was all too happy to fill.
The All-inclusive Paradox
Along the coastline, large hotel complexes dominate the horizon. Inside, lush landscapes and desalinated water flow freely. Just outside the gates, the reality is a harsh, unforgiving desert dotted with shanty towns where fresh water is a luxury. This all-inclusive model can create an economic bubble, for example resource monopolies, as hotels run their own shuttles and excursions, inadvertently starving local taxi drivers and guides of business. Without diverse industries, there is a talent drain as Cape Verde’s youth become reliant on tourism and often feel forced to migrate to Europe or the USA to find work beyond the service sector. Entrepreneurial hurdles for local business startups, one local yoga teacher shared her long struggle to organise a retreat on her own land, hampered by a system that favours corporate giants over local business.
While many holiday company foundations point to school donations as proof of giving back, locals often see these as a drop in the ocean compared to the systemic change required.
Green Shoots of Hope?
The story of Cape Verde is not one of defeat; it is one of resilience. The legacy of its colonial past lives heavily in the hearts and minds if the residents. Any colonised country is left with psychological, economic, and social scars that it has to navigate in order to rebuild. Untangling the legacy of colonisation is complex. The President of Cape Verde call for reparations and to challenge the neocolonial narratives that exist in Europe are met with resistance. He calls to face the challenges of the past, to reject the systems that perpetuate inequality and to move from the shackles of suppression to collective strength, to live in a dignified world.
Amidst the struggle, there are green shoots of reclamation. The strength of the people and the raw, positive energy of the island itself. Young volunteers are leading the charge in wildlife preservation, working tirelessly to protect the island’s biodiversity and carving out a new path that does not rely solely on tourism and serving the descendants of former colonizers.
To visit Sal is to witness a beautiful land and people. I hope the island and country moves past the limitations of being a playground for tourists and flourish along its own path. To help this journey I ask you to travel with fresh eyes, open minds and to look beyond the surf.
I travelled to Sal, Cape Verde in November 2022
Written in February 2026
