Praia, July 1, 2025 (Lusa) - Sónia Freire, a 34-year-old Cabo Verdean, is a street vendor and has her bags packed at Praia International Airport, ready to emigrate to Portugal.
"I'm going to Lisbon to look for a better life. Here, the wages are too low: if I earned more, I wouldn't leave," she says, a few minutes before entering the departure lounge.
In another farewell scene taking place nearby, the protagonist is Loidimir Carvalho, 21, who hugs friends and family, almost in tears.
"There are no opportunities here, and in Portugal I hope to earn a better income. I already have a contract to work in construction, and when I arrive, I'll get straight to work," he explains.
Emigration is a permanent theme in Cabo Verde, but it has intensified since 2022, says sociologist Redy Lima, who points to the flight of talent and skilled labour as a risk at a time when the country is celebrating 50 years of independence.
"Emigration in itself is not a problem and even promotes a culture of international care," he says, quoting anthropologist Luzia Oca González on the care of those abroad who send money to look after those who remain on the islands.
"What sustained many neighbourhoods in the city of Praia during the Covid-19 pandemic was emigration" from the United States, Portugal, France and other countries, he points out.
"That's the good part," remittances from emigration, but the downside is that Cabo Verde is losing labour, skilled workers, whose absence is not being filled by immigrants, says the sociologist and lecturer who listens to businesspeople.
When we talk about a peak in emigration, "we are talking about perceptions, because there is no updated data".
"I looked at the latest data from the INE [National Statistics Institute] and between 2009 and 2021, around 34,000 people left Cabo Verde, about 6% of the population, and I think that this is a stable [flow], it is normal. When I did the calculations for those returning, it became clear that from 2020 onwards there will be a higher percentage of those who do not return," he explains.
Since then, mobility has become easier and, in Cabo Verde, if any conversation lasts long enough, it will invariably end up on emigration and those who have already left or those who want to leave.
Not long ago, "there was a news story" in the local media about "Chinese product shops: they ended up saying that the best sellers are suitcases," points out Redy Lima: perhaps because there are many Cabo Verdeans leaving, he wonders.
As in other countries, needs are pressing because "the cost of living has increased" since the 2008 crisis and even more so after the pandemic, he says, something that minimum wage increases have not solved.
"The average wage is not growing" and there is a lack of purchasing power to boost the economy.
The minimum wage in the archipelago was created in 2013 at 11,000 escudos (about €100) and has risen to the current 17,000 escudos (€154), with a Strategic Agreement signed between the government and social partners which aims to reach 20,000 escudos (€181) by 2027.
It is true that "there is a paradox of opportunities: there is not enough work for everyone" in the archipelago's market and, "to a certain extent", it is good that Cabo Verdeans are leaving, considers Redy Lima.
The problem, according to the sociologist, begins with the "segregation of opportunities" that causes the necessary personnel for development to also be pushed abroad due to a lack of democratic culture, as he has mentioned in public events where he often addresses the issue.
"Democracy works" according to the rules in Cabo Verde, as attested by various international rankings, which place it as an example for Africa, but "in everyday life, there is a lack of democratic culture".
"In Cabo Verde, it seems that we have four countries: the country of the Movement for Democracy (MpD, in power), that of the African Party for the Independence of Cabo Verde (PAICV, opposition), that of the other parties and the world of other people", in a universe where loyalty is worth more than merit and is rewarded when each sphere has power, he says.
The result is an incentive for ‘mediocrity’ on the islands, exporting competence, he adds: "people are not being appointed on merit, but because they are loyal, party “boys” or because they don't question anything. It's not me who thinks so, it's the people in office who say so," says the sociologist.
At the same time, "there are institutions that are failing", pointing to delays in justice and gaps in health care as two problems that also contribute to people leaving without returning.
Redy Lima acknowledges the progress made in the 50 years of independence - an inalienable achievement, he says - but advocates reformist ambition instead of mere electoral management, which in the case of emigration is equivalent to an ‘ostrich policy’ without a long-term strategy.
As in other countries, "structural change is needed in the labour market" to combat precariousness and low wages, promoting "decent work" in line with the "medium development" status that the country enjoys, above many of its African peers.
The complaints are there, "listening to businesspeople in the restaurant, construction and other sectors", some more specialised: "those with experience have already left, there are fewer people to work" and the immigrants arriving in the archipelago do not fill the gap - neither in quality nor in quantity.
Many use the archipelago as a springboard to other places, he says.
On some islands, the risks of emigration are greater: Redy Lima studied the island of Maio, the closest to the capital and one of the least populated, with 6,330 people in the 2021 census and few economic activities, despite its untapped natural potential.
"Between October 2023 and July 2024 alone, over a period of nine months, the island lost 12% of its population", which was already below the census figure, because people are leaving continuously: "How are we going to build the future?", he asks.
LFO/AYLS // AYLS
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