Simon Fenton on his lifechanging decision to make a new start in Africa

Why would I want to leave the comforts of England to live in rural Senegal with extreme heat, the threat of a maggot that buries into my feet, internet connections slower than the early 90s and, most importantly, no coffee but instant?

Isn’t Africa a continent of war, famine, killer viruses, religious extremism and corruption? Sadly that is the popular conception which often ignores the fact that there are 54 nations, hundreds of unique cultures and places of incredible beauty.

About five years ago I reached a crunch point in the UK with redundancy, a marriage breakdown and other setbacks.

Until that point I’d led a pretty charmed life with an idyllic childhood in Abingdon, first at Dunmore Primary and then Fitzharrys School, before university and joining the Pig Improvement Company in Southmoor.

In fact, I’d first become obsessed with Africa when foreign students from the Gambia, Zambia and Ethiopia visited our house as my mother worked with them at the local college of further education.

So, naturally, when it all went wrong, I decided the only thing for it was to cross the Sahara – an experience where I was arrested, lost, crossed a minefield and ate goat guts.

After the desert, I heard about the Casamance, a tropical zone just south of the Gambia. I made my way there and was offered a stint house sitting.

I fell in love with a local girl, Khady, but we nearly died in a serious bus crash, after which a shaman performing a healing ceremony told me I’d have kids in Africa.

I had to return to England but when I telephoned Khady I found out she was pregnant. Gulliver, our first son, was born one year to the day of the shaman’s premonition.

I returned realising that I wanted to start a new life in West Africa and I’ve been here ever since.

I now host guests, lead tours and write, all whilst aiming for a self-sufficient lifestyle.

Although it feels a world away from Oxfordshire, my parents have proved it’s possible to breakfast in Witney, where they now live, and to be enjoying sundowners with my family on an African beach the same day.

I designed my own house and built it with Khady’s family. It wasn’t easy and “mystic Africa” slowed us down, although I put it down to an incorrect sand-cement ratio.

Life can be tough here but I like a challenge and am easily bored.

Yet, when I’m sat on the empty beach as the huge orange sun sinks into the sea, a fresh juice in hand, Gulliver at my feet, Khady by my side and monkeys playing nearby, I can’t believe how my life has turned out.

The entire village knows me by name and our (now two) sons can freely play anywhere, just like when I was growing up in 1970s Abingdon.

I prefer doing without much of the time and look forward to certain luxuries. The challenges of searching, improvising or simply doing without makes life far more fun.

I’m also mindful of the fact many Senegalese people live their lives without access to these “necessities” and how lucky I am.

A cold beer at the end of an arduous bus trip. A steak after weeks of fish and rice. Monsoonal rains after months of heat and humidity. Waiting for the mango season rather than eating some hard soapy lump that’s been flown around the world.

The past and the future don’t seem important and it feels like paradise.

* Simon Fenton’s first book, Squirting Milk at Chameleons: An Accidental African, is out now, published by Eye Books.