When Colum and I first visited Cape Verde it was, for the British, an obscure destination. The annual number of tourists was a few tens of thousands, of which Brits were an infinitesimal fraction.
Now tourism is in the hundreds of thousands and the development of hotels,
apartments and condominiums surges ahead. The country is riding a rollercoaster with
the added excitement that no-one knows how safe the structure is. I gaze through the estate agents’ windows, at the developers’ plans, and at the construction sites and I try to
extract meaning. Who will be living in these fairytale condominiums? What corners of
the world will they come from? Will there be any Cape Verdeans in there? What will it
mean if there aren’t – and what will it mean if there are?
Now, when I visit, development has made things easier (though the air and ferry
connections between the islands are worse than they were a decade ago). But now I am also finding disappointment among tourists. I have heard complaints about sullen service, about the endless wind, flies, the lack of anything to ‘do’, and the high cost of living.
The main reason for their negativity is that they were oversold their holidays. Cape Verde is – hilariously – being touted as the ‘new Caribbean’ – when the islands tend to have a barrenness approaching that of the moon.
So I find myself in a strange position now: instead of raving about Cape Verde I find myself sometimes advising people not to go. I’ve even inserted a small section in each island chapter entitled ‘Lowlights’ so you know what not to expect. Here is my reasoning: I want you to treasure Cape Verde, and if you’re a person who won’t find it treasurable, I want you to know beforehand.
So go if you love the sea, and have a cracking watersports holiday on Sal or Boavista. Go to Santo Antão if you love outstanding mountainous landscapes, particularly if you enjoy hiking in them. Go if something inside you responds to a barren land with a harsh black coastline pounded by a frothing white ocean; or to a convivial people with the time to strike up a mournful tune over a glass of thick red wine.
I believe, though, that you will have your most fulfilling holiday if a little part of you goes as an anthropologist, interested in whatever the archipelago throws at you. Be like one of my contributors, who responds to the notorious Cape Verdean punctuality with the words, ‘It’s great how these people refuse to be intimidated by time.’ Cape Verde is, at heart, a place not to be consumed, but to be understood.
