10 years ago Kadiatu Kamara couldn’t swim; now she’s Sierra Leone’s only pro female surfer

“Yu sabi surf?” ask a bunch of kids as I climb down from the bus. I might not speak Krio, the de facto national language of Sierra Leone, but it’s not hard to work out that they’re asking me if I know how to surf.

The silky yellow sand of Bureh Beach, a stretch of beach on the far tip of Sierra Leone’s Western Area Peninsula, faces the Atlantic Ocean and is only 90 minutes south of the capital Freetown. Palm trees blow in the wind and the waves rushing up over the sand chase stray dogs to the safety of above the waterline. A pair of small, sandy boys wrestle and play, kicking a homemade football, while a couple of surfboards lie in the shade of a tree. Bureh Beach is home to Sierra Leone’s first ever surf club, whose motto, “Di waves dem go mak u feel fine,” says it all. But today, the waves are sloppy and small, the usually consistent left-hander that wraps around the beach creating good surfing waves, is absent and there’s no-one out on the water.

It was Irish expat and surfer Shane O’Connor who set up the Bureh Beach Surf Club in 2012, with donated money and borrowed boards, and began teaching the locals to master the waves. “I started going down there at the weekends,” he says. “It’s the perfect place to learn to surf. Beautiful warm water, a tropical beach, a mountain with tropical rainforests in the background, and a really nice community that’ll look after you and give you a good and safe experience.”

As I walk down the beach I stop to chat with a couple of youngsters, sitting under the shade of a palm tree and looking out at the seemingly unappealing mushy waves. “Di waves den tiday na super soft,” one says, “nothin wort fo padul go for.” His friend, looking at the non-existent sets, adds, “”Di waves den nor dae at all, e nor even wort fo wax yu bode.”

Leaving the beach I head to the bar and restaurant at the rustic Australeone Guesthouse. Waiting for me, between waitressing shifts, is 26-year-old Kadiatu Kamara, or KK. She’s not just the only woman surfing out of Bureh Beach Surf Club; she’s also the only female professional surfer in Sierra Leone.

When the Ebola epidemic broke out in 2014, the country was only just getting on its feet after more than a decade of bloody civil war, as well as fatal landslides, flooding, military coups, and more. Through it all however, the ocean rollers have continued to break on the beaches of Sierra Leone. And nine years ago, when her father died, KK found respite and sanctuary in these waves and the Bureh Beach surfing community.

“When I have stress, I have to surf,” she tells me. “Then all the stress goes away. Surfing always makes me happy, it always makes me forget about my problems at home.”

As we nurse our drinks, KK shares how surfing provided respite from her troubles, but also gave rise to aspirations. “I have plenty of dreams—war is gone, Ebola is gone, Sierra Leone is good now. Now is the time for us,” she says.

Breaking gender sterotypes drew KK to the water. She watched the boys out on the water and the freedom that surfing represented, and thought to herself: “Why not me?”

For KK, Bureh Beach has always been home. She grew up here, with her four brothers and a sister, and still lives here with her mother, Baby Douglas. Baby is supportive of her daughter’s surfing, saying it makes her very proud. KK herself ekes out a living as a surfing instructor and waitress in the small coastal community, and in her spare time, encourages a small group of young girls to follow in her footsteps, teaching them to surf and giving them the moral support they need. She knows that both financially and in terms of breaking traditional gender stereotypes, it’s a difficult journey for women and girls to take up the sport and hopes one day she won’t be the only Sierra Leonean woman surfing.

Of the Bureh Beach Surf Club itself, founder O’Connor tells me, “The community were involved at all points … It was envisaged as a community project and, for better and worse, it has stayed as a community project.” When he left the country for a new posting, O’Connor handed the club over to a new generation of Sierra Leonean surfers, and today, local members teach kids as young as five, how to negotiate the breaks.

Run like a cooperative, the 20 or so members of the surf club hire out boards, give lessons, and even cook up beachside seafood meals, all to fund their own surfing. They also lend out their gear to local kids to use. “We want to change our community through surfing,” says John Small, one of the club’s founding members.

“My wish is to see girls coming from all the different places to learn to surf,” KK tells me. “If they come, I will teach them. I am trying to build up female surfers. At the moment we are only small in number, but we can be more.”

She has taught and mentored at least eight young girls, but due to a lack of resources, she’s been forced to slow down. If funding and equipment were available, she’d love to carry on. For those surfers, male and female alike, who want to turn surfing into a career, it is hard to get into the golden circle of recognition, sponsorship and travel to participate in the biggest surf events.

But in the meantime, KK’s determined resolve to improve life for the girls of Bureh Beach is evident in both her words and actions, and she epitomizes the determination of a country that refuses to be beaten into submission.

Of all the West African countries, Senegal has the most developed surfing infrastructure and culture. There are surf camps, schools, and plenty of waves, including tiny Ngor Island, a 10-minute boat ride off the coast from the capital Dakar. Surrounded by world class waves, it was put on the international surfing map by the 1966 cult classic Endless Summer.

After Senegal, Ghana has the next strongest surf community. Sierra Leone and Liberia lag somewhat behind, with far less infrastructure and some serious development challenges, though both have some of West Africa’s most promising surfing destinations. For Sierra Leone, the surfing hopspot is Bureh Beach, with great waves at River 2 beach and some reliable breaks in a handful of rarely visited parts of the country. Only the most adventurous of international surfers find their way to Sierra Leone—more often than not, the waves at Bureh Beach are home to a sprinkling of young boys trying to surf on any suitably sized, flat floating object they can find.

Not only is Kadiatu a role model for local girls, she’s become something of an unofficial ambassador for surfing in Sierra Leone and beyond. “When I see the sea, I want to be out there competing,” she says. “I want to be learning new tricks. I want to represent my country as a female surfer, and I want other girls to get a chance to do that also.” Her ultimate goal? To open a surf school and shop in Sierra Leone called ‘Black Girls Surf’, with the profits going to fund girls’ school fees and surfing equipment.

Statistically speaking, becoming a professional surfer wasn’t on the cards for Kadiatu. She didn’t get a chance to finish high school, not an anomaly in a country where, according to the UNICEF Sierra Leone Out-Of-School Children Study from November 2021, more than 60 percent of the population live in poverty and a reported 35 percent of children aged between six and eighteen do not attend school. And despite making up more than half the country’s population, according to a UNFPA report, women and girls continue to be marginalized with gender-based violence an ongoing problem, with over 60 percent of women aged 15 to 49 reporting being victims of physical violence.

“I feel so different on the wave, like I’m the real KK.”

- Kadiatu Kamara

KK knew it would be a long shot, but she wanted something different for herself, beyond the limited options she could see for her future. A young woman in a man’s world, she found herself part of Bureh Beach Surf Club, and while the rip-tides of Bureh Beach are a tough learning ground for all surfers, before she could even pick up a board, she’d first need to learn to swim. Breaking gender sterotypes drew KK to the water. She watched the boys out on the water and the freedom that surfing represented, and thought to herself: “Why not me?”

In Sierra Leone, it’s still expected that women take care of the children, clean and manage the household, prepare the food, and collect water and firewood. And with ReliefWeb reporting that 30 percent of girls marry before the age of 18 and have an average of over four children in their lifetime, many will spend their entire lives juggling income earning activities, alongside the majority of family and household chores, never reaching their full potential, never completing their education, never being able to choose when and if they want children, and never being free to choose their own dreams.

KK wanted more than that. She decided to brave the water and brave the negative perceptions of others and asked Mike Etoka, the-then president of the Bureh Beach Surf Club to teach her to surf. She started to spend a lot of time at the club, and slowly but surely picked up tips and tricks, both from the boys at the club but also from tourists she spotted in the water.

Local Bureh residents, Donald Macauley and Mohammed Bangura—‘Medo’ to his friends—were some of her early coaches. “At first, she was fighting the ocean,” Medo recalls. “We had to teach her how to swim first.” It wasn’t an easy learning curve and a few near downings had her questioning her choices and bringing her to the brink of quitting. But, with encouragement, she persevered and eventually was able to swim well enough to keep herself safe in the water and pursue her dreams.

“She really took her lessons seriously,” says Macauley. “I saw her potential, and now other girls want to follow her.” Now she’s a hometown hero, a resilient young woman on a surfboard, someone who knows how to ‘’sabi’ the waves, and who’s become a star in her own right. Beyond surfing, Kamara wants young people, especially girls, to catch a wave she hasn’t yet conquered, by finishing their education.

As KK and I sit and talk, the waves roll rhythmically towards the beach, curling into crests, plunging forward in cascades of water and white foam, and rushing up over the sand. She stares out towards the horizon in quiet contemplation, before turning to me and saying, “I feel so different on the wave, like I’m the real KK.”

She may not have a coach or sponsor at the moment, and she may not be a household name just yet, but she’s working on it. Having been to train in Senegal and having recently come second in a surf competition at the Grand Cape Mount Surf Club Association in Liberia, the international pro-surfing circuit may, one day, include Kadiatu Kamara.

Read more

To catch a glimpse of KK out on the water, check out a 2016, seven-minute documentary short film A Million Waves, by British filmmakers Daniel Ali and Louis Leeson, on YouTube.

***

Adventure.com strives to be a low-emissions publication, and we are working to reduce our carbon emissions where possible. Emissions generated by the movements of our staff and contributors are carbon offset through our parent company, Intrepid. You can visit our sustainability page and read our Contributor Impact Guidelines for more information. While we take our commitment to people and planet seriously, we acknowledge that we still have plenty of work to do, and we welcome all feedback and suggestions from our readers. You can contact us anytime at hello@adventure.com. Please allow up to one week for a response.