Hiphopper Thiat raps with blunt lyrics about the problems in his native Senegal. He sings about corruption, high unemployment and the daily power blackouts. Many Senegalese recognize themselves in his rage.

Is one born a revolutionary? "It started when I was six, in elementary school," says Thiat ('junior'). In class the small Thiat regularly jumped out of his chair to rap about things that were wrong: "The teacher is smoking in class!; There are no crayons!; The lesson program is bad!"

Three decades later, Thiat raps about national issues. About how President Wade Abdelaye holds parliament and the courts in his grip. How the Senegalese population is being made less and less articulate. And about corruption and mismanagement, of which he has had quite enough.

Slums of Dakar
Thiat is not easy to find. Based on secret instructions I cross the slums of Dakar by taxi, drive to an intersection, call for new instructions and give the phone to the taxi driver. He's given further instructions in the local Wolof language. And then, giddy with all the turns, and after a long wait in the blistering sun, a slight man beckons me in a dusty street.

Fou Malade, with a shaven head and big smile, leads me to an apartment. In the living room, where the bleating of sheep can be heard through the open window, sits Thiat the rapper. A muscular young man with his hair braided tightly around his head, which is covered by a hood.

YouTube
Fou Malade ("My name means 'crazy sick man', because only a fool feels free enough to speak the truth aloud") asks me to sit beside him on the red sofa. He flips open his laptop and shows some YouTube videos of demonstrations that the hip-hop artists have unleashed.

On the screen I see a young man being carried away by six police officers. He resists fiercely, but is dragged away by hand and feet. Suddenly I recognize Thiat at the same time as he pours me a cup of coffee.

AC Milan
"It's gone wrong in Senegal," Thiat says. "Our President Wade does nothing to alter the high youth unemployment and rising food prices. Instead, he spends tens of millions on a statue and shares out jobs to family members. The rich stay rich, the poor stay poor."

The main problem is electricity, Fou Malade continues. "People pay their accounts properly, but the government doesn't deliver."

Almost one year ago, the bomb exploded for Thiat. One Friday, a match of his favourite football club AC Milan was to be shown live on TV. "But just before the kickoff the power went off. The next morning it was still not back. Sunday came and it still wasn't working. I was so fed up with it."

Urban Guerrilla Poetry
A friend said: "You rappers can do something about this. Because a large part of the Senegalese population listens to hip-hop, which, contrary to the foggy talk of Senegalese politicians, is associated with the truth." Thiat called Fou Malade, a rapper known for his explicit political lyrics. "No shiny cars and half naked women for us," said Fou Malade. "We do Urban Guerrilla Poetry, close to the people."

Together they went door to door in the slums of Dakar to make the many, often illiterate youth politically aware. The rappers made a big impact. First in the capital Dakar, later in the rest of Senegal young people joined them. Tens of thousands attended events announced via Facebook. There on the street was christened the new movement: Y an a marre (I'm fed up with it).

The first confrontation with President Wade took place last summer. He wanted to amend the constitution to create the position of vice president. Everyone in Senegal knew who Wade had in mind: his intended successor and son, Karim Wade. A salient detail: as minister Karim Wade is responsible for the failing electricity.

Victory
'Y en a marre' organized a counter demonstration; the turnout was huge. Thiat was arrested. But when as a result the protest continued for days and increased in intensity, the police freed the rapper and Wade dropped his proposal for constitutional change. After this victory, 'Y en a marre' became a broad popular movement. "From that point also fishmongers in the market, bus drivers and teachers joined us," says Thiat.

Meanwhile, the next showdown with Wade Abdelaye is already on the agenda. The president has declared himself a candidate for a third term. "He can't do that under the Constitution!" says Thiat angrily.

Ballot paper
"We're going to force Wade out of the saddle in the presidential elections in February 2012" asserts Fou Malade. This requires young people in particular to get on the electoral register. "We're going to tell all the people in all the cities," says Fou Malade enthusiastically. "Your alarm goes off, your ballot is your ticket to freedom."

This is the language that the mostly illiterate and politically apathetic young people understand. And if they are physically aroused by 'Y en a marre', then President Wade will get a rude awakening. Three quarters of the Senegalese population are younger than 25.

But what if they're successful in voting Wade out? "We don't want power," says Thiat. "A new type of Senegalese must be created. Someone who takes responsibility for his life, doesn't spend the morning in bed, but looks for work and keeps public places tidy. 'Y en a marre' also won't tell people how they should vote. We're organizing a nationwide television broadcast, Electorap, in which we will grill all presidential candidates extensively."

When I leave Thiat presses a lurid purple T-shirt into my hands on which 'Y en a marre' is printed in big letters. Back in my hotel, I find multiple sources confirming that enrollment on the electoral register of Senegal has soared in recent months. Whether this is a result of the campaign isn't clear, but that's often speculated. Previously only one in ten young people between 18 and 22 were enrolled. In the slums of Dakar alone, 78,000 new voters have registered in recent months.

Cars honk
Then as an experiment, I walk through different neighbourhoods of the city wearing the flashy purple T-shirt. Many people smile at me and give me the thumbs up, cars honking. Only in the chic embassy neighbourhood do most people ignore me. Apart, that is, from the young people who made clear their unqualified approval. In the market a group of young women giggle in chorus: "We idolize Y en a marre."

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