Fossar Dabo, a physics teacher and environmental activist, after the discovery of a rosewood tree that had just been illegally cut down. Dabo and other volunteers founded the Green Sedhiou, an organization that denounces illegal timber trafficking at the Gambian border.
Fossar Dabo, a physics teacher and environmental activist, after the discovery of a rosewood tree that had just been illegally cut down. Dabo and other volunteers founded the Green Sedhiou, an organization that denounces illegal timber trafficking at the Gambian border.
Photo: Marco Simoncelli

The diverse forest region of Casamance, in the south of Senegal, covers thousands of hectares and is commonly known as the country’s lungs. The area is almost totally separated from the rest of Senegal by Gambia, and thanks to its heavy rainfall it is also rich in dense forests, mangroves and oil palms.

Without this region, Senegal has few natural resources but, over the past decade, illegal large-scale wood trafficking has been decimating the forest at an alarming pace.

Since gaining its independence in 1960, Senegal has been thought of as one of the most stable democracies in the region. It is the only state on the West African mainland that has never experienced a military coup.

But in Casamance, things are different. The region has a distinct identity and is home to one of Africa’s longest-running separatist movements, sparked by a sense of disenfranchisement. The dominant ethnic group in the Casamance is the Jola, who have a distinctive identity, though across Senegal they are only around four per cent of the population.

In what has been described as a state of ‘neither war nor peace’, since 1982 there has been an ongoing low-intensity civil war between Senegalese government forces and the MFDC (Movement of Democratic Forces of Casamance).1 While both parties signed a peace agreement in August 2022, hostilities have continued.

While this has proved to be a lucrative business, the economic gains have come at a devastating environmental cost

The environmental cost

The MFDC rebels primarily sustain themselves and fund their activities by transporting trees from protected areas in Casamance across the Gambian border. While this has proved to be a lucrative business, the economic gains have come at a devastating environmental cost.

The most targeted species is the endangered rosewood tree. Commonly known as the ‘bleeding tree’, it was once prevalent in Asia. Having exhausted nearby stocks, traders in the Far East have now turned their attention to southern Senegal – most exports from here end up in China which is one of the dominant players in the global wood market.2

The export of endangered trees is illegal under Senegalese law. But traders manage to access the rebel-controlled route into neighbouring Gambia where the trade is flourishing, despite the fact that their own stocks were declared to be already close to extinction a decade ago.2 Once in Gambian territory, it is hard for officials to prove where the trees have been cut down. The ongoing smuggling has made Senegal’s neighbour one of the top five exporters of rosewood in the world.3

While the business is highly lucrative for those involved, the Gambian authorities consistently deny any involvement in the smuggling.

The Senegalese government has made attempts to stop the harvesting of endangered and rare species, such as rosewood, cayor pear tree and African mahogany, but it is fighting a losing battle.

Civilians suffer

Along the border between Casamance and Gambia live those most affected by the constant unrest, fuelled by this trade. According to the Senegalese military most people here support the MFDC, but many describe themselves as ‘neutral’ in the conflict – they just want to live in peace.

People in Ballen and Kappa, two small villages in the south of Gambia, describe how their homes are regularly caught in violent clashes between the rebels and the Senegalese military. Ebrima Bojang, the village chief of Ballen, locally called the ‘Alkalo’, expresses his desire for the conflict to come to an end: ‘This just has to stop. I am open to any solution, as long as the fighting stops,’ he says, while holding his two-year-old daughter Fatima.

One Monday morning in March 2022 Bojang was stacking bricks at the side of the dirt road which passes through his village. All of a sudden, a truck loaded with timber came racing towards him at high speed, chased by a military vehicle hot on the heels of wood smugglers heading back into Senegalese territory.

He points with his stick towards the Casamance border. ‘The first car crashed into a tree over there, and I knew something worse was about to happen,’ he explains. ‘We told all the women and children to leave everything and run, and that’s when the shooting started.’

Bojang gently passes his daughter over to the older children, then after a short walk, lasting no more than two minutes, he stops and draws a line with his stick in the dirt.

‘This is Gambia, this is Senegal’, he says, pointing the stick on each side with precision. Bojang says that shortly after the crash, more rebels emerged from the woods, escalating the gunfight. They seized two soldiers as hostages and killed a third.

Ebrima Bojang, the village chief of Ballen, is calling for an end to the violence.
Ebrima Bojang, the village chief of Ballen, is calling for an end to the violence.
Photo: Tilda Kämmlein

Ransacked

When reinforcements reached Ballen, the rebels had gained ground and advanced into Kappa, the next village, approximately two kilometres further inland.

‘By that time all of us had left,’ says Bojang. ‘Most of what happened here and in Kappa we were told afterwards, and the rest we witnessed ourselves from the devastation we found upon our return.’

Eventually, with support from the Gambian forces, the rebels occupied Ballen and Kappa for several weeks, leaving the citizens displaced.

‘We could not return until about a month later, when the situation had calmed down,’ says the Alkalo of Kappa.When the villagers finally returned, they found their cattle stolen, their farmland destroyed by wild animals, and their homes completely plundered. ‘Whoever did this, whether it’s the rebels or the soldiers or someone else, didn’t even leave our dirty clothes behind,’ he says as he takes us around his torn village.

The village chief leads the way to a family whose house was left beyond repair after the deadly clash. The walls are dotted with hundreds of bullet holes.

‘Whenever it rains, the water goes through the roof and into the house. No one took responsibility for it and I don’t have enough money to do anything about it,’ says the woman living there with her two children. ‘You have to constantly be on alert.’

Eastwards, along the main road that traces the course of the River Gambia, is Kanilai. A somewhat larger village than Ballen and Kappa, it is situated near the border and is renowned as the hometown of the former president, Yahya Jammeh.

The border here is infamous thanks to its frequently use by tree smugglers, who are thought to enjoy lower levels of surveillance, as well as a high concentration of local MFDC supporters.

Approaching the dirt road leading to the border, a local guard signals for us to stop. He asserts that the road is riddled with landmines and mentions the existence of a mass grave, dug ‘due to the high number of deaths’.

‘No one is allowed to pass through there anymore... Too many people were killed just going to collect firewood. It is a rebel-controlled area,’ he says.

With no one to confirm his claims, we proceed further into the forest by foot, passing the border without even noticing. After continuing for a few kilometres, we reach the first Senegalese military camp.

A tall soldier warmly welcomes us, and leads the way to an army commander who sits underneath a tree, savouring the shade in the intense midday heat. He wants to remain anonymous as he says he is scared of potential attacks on him or his family. No pictures, either within or outside the camp, are allowed.

The camp lies next to a small village. According to the commander, no one can be trusted: ‘With no clear distinction between who is a rebel and who is not, you have to constantly be on alert,’ he says.

‘Most of them live as ordinary farmers, ready to cut trees or get into a fight whenever it’s needed. They operate in secret. It could be your neighbour or even a corrupt soldier here in the camp.’

He describes the conflict between the MFDC and Senegalese state as far from over and highlights the wood smuggling trade, which has grown over the last 10 to 15 years, as a new phase in the civil war. ‘We do our very best to stop the smuggling, but the Casamance forest is big,’ he concludes.

Tilda Kämmlein

  1. Britannica, ‘Casamance’, a.nin.tl/britannica ; Davide Lemmi and Marco Simoncelli, ‘Rebel conflict in Senegal’s Casamance region far from over’, Deutsche Welle, 1 September, 2023, a.nin.tl/rebel
  2. Charlotte Attwood, ‘Rosewood smuggling in The Gambia: Shipping firm halts timber exports’, BBC, 8 July 2020, a.nin.tl/rosewood