In One Region of Senegal, Girls Can Become Wrestlers — and Win. But Only Until Marriage

Coach Isabelle Sambou, 43 years old, rear, two-time Olympian and nine-time African wrestling champion, explains a move to a young woman during a wrestling training in Mlomp, southern Senegal, Wednesday, July 10, 2024. (AP Photo/Sylvain Cherkaoui)

By MONIKA PRONCZUK

1:15 AM EDT, August 13, 2024

MLOMP, Senegal (AP) — It’s almost dusk, and the West African heat is finally faltering. In Mlomp, a village in southern Senegal, dozens of teenagers in colorful jerseys are throwing each other to the ground to the rhythm of Afrobeats against a backdrop of palm trees.

It’s a common sight across Senegal, where wrestling is a national sport and wrestlers are celebrated like rock stars. The local variation of wrestling, called laamb in Wolof, one of the national languages, has been part of village life for centuries. Senegalese wrestle for entertainment and to celebrate special occasions. The professional version of the sport draws thousands to stadiums and can be a catapult to international stardom.

But in most of the country, wrestling remains off-limits for women.

There is one exception. In the Casamance region, home to the Jola ethnic group, women traditionally wrestle alongside men. At a recent training session in Mlomp, most teenagers on the sandy ground were girls.

“It’s in our blood,” said coach Isabelle Sambou, 43, a two-time Olympian and nine-time African wrestling champion. “In our village, girls wrestle. My mum was a wrestler, my aunts were wrestlers.”

But once Jola women marry, they are expected to stop practicing and devote themselves to family life, considered the main duty of Senegalese women regardless of ethnicity or religion.

Sambou’s aunt, Awa Sy, now in her 80s, was the village champion in her youth, and said she would even take down some men.

“I liked wrestling because it made me feel strong,” she said, standing outside her house nestled between rice fields and mangroves. “I stopped when I got married.” She didn’t question it at the time.

That hasn’t been the case for her niece, who, despite her humble demeanor and small size, exudes strength and determination. She defied many barriers to become a professional athlete.

As a teenager, Sambou was noticed by a professional wrestling coach at a competition during the annual Festival of the King of Oussouye, one of the few events accessible to women. The coach suggested that she try Olympic wrestling, which has a female national team. But she only agreed after her older brother convinced her to do it.

Wrestling brought Sambou, who did not finish primary school, to the Olympic Games in London and Rio de Janeiro, where she placed outside the medal contenders. But being a successful professional female athlete in a conservative society comes with a price.

“If you are a female wrestler, people are going to make fun of you,” Sambou said, recalling her experiences in parts of Senegal beyond her home region. “When I walked around in shorts, people were saying: ‘Look, is it a woman or is it a boy?’”

Others claimed that her body would change and she would no longer look like a woman.

Such things can “get to your head,” Sambou said. “But I tell myself: They don’t know what they are talking about. It’s in my blood, and it brought me where I am today.”

In 2016, facing her mid-30s, she decided to retire from professional sport and move back to her village.

“I thought it was the time to stop and think of something else, maybe find a job, start a family,” she said. “But that hasn’t happened so far.”

Instead, she focused on finding “future Isabelles.” After not fulfilling her dream of winning an Olympic medal, she hopes a girl she coaches can achieve that.

That mission has been complicated by the lack of resources. Female sport is often underfunded, especially in sub-Saharan Africa.

Around Sambou’s village, there are no gyms where girls can do strength training. They don’t have the special shoes used in Olympic wrestling, and instead train barefoot. They don’t have mats, so they make do with sandy grounds.

And yet, at Africa’s youth championship in wrestling held in June in Senegal’s capital, Dakar, Sambou’s students won 10 medals, including six golds.

“Despite everything, they did magnificent work,” she said.

She has received little in return. Senegal has no pension system for retired professional athletes. Her lack of formal education complicates her career as a coach. She helps to coach the national wrestling team, both men and women, but on a voluntary basis. To get by, she works in a small shop and cleans people’s houses.

“I gave everything to wrestling, to my country,” she said. “Now I don’t have anything. I don’t even have my own house. It hurts a bit.”

She listed the countries she has visited, including the United States and Switzerland, while sitting outside the home she shares with relatives. Her bedroom is decorated with a picture of Virgin Mary and posters celebrating her participation in championships — the only sign of her glorious past.

“It’s difficult to be a professional athlete. You have to leave everything behind,” she said. “And then you stop, and you come back here and you sit, without anything to do.”

But times are changing, and so is the perception of women in Senegalese society. These days, parents seek out Sambou and ask her to coach their children, regardless of their gender, even if it’s still for free.

Sambou’s 17-year-old niece, Mame Marie Sambou, recently won a gold medal at the youth championship in Dakar. Her dream is to become a professional wrestler and compete internationally. The big test will come in two years when Senegal hosts the Youth Olympic Games, the first Olympic event ever organized on African soil.

“It’s my aunt who encouraged me to start wrestling,” she said. “When I started, many people were saying they have never seen a girl wrestle. But I never listened to them. I want to be like her.”