About | Daaf Borren

Writer and analyst.

Former correspondent.

Combining an academic background in International Security and Human Rights (MA) with seven years of experience as a foreign correspondent, Daaf has always been drawn to a geopolitics from below.

For his work, he has travelled all corners of Africa and beyond to cover topics ranging from coups d'état and protest movements to climate change and migration.

Among others, he reported on fragile situations and geopolitical trends in the Sahel region, South Sudan and eastern Congo (DRC). Additional fieldwork brought him to Mozambique, Ivory Coast, Mauritania, Ethiopia, Liberia and a dozen other countries.

As a European, Daaf constantly questions his Eurocentric blinkers and explores human-centered dialogue across the globe. Meanwhile, he argues for Europe to uphold international law, to tolerate criticism from non-aligned countries and to abandon its double standards.

These observations are woven into his debut book, that was published by Uitgeverij Pluim (August ’25), and play a leading role in his analyses and at The Bright Continent,

Sembène’s words continue to remind me that @thebrightcontinent isn’t just about ideas, travel or dialogue. It is about whose stories are allowed to cross borders.
—
Declaring that ‘Europe is not his centre’, Senegalese writer and film maker, Ousmane Sembène, became one of the leading voices of African cinema in the 1950s and 1960s.

Following his service in the Second World War, Sembène returned to Senegal, where he got involved in the emerging labour movement. He was committed to political and social change and used film as a means of questioning traditional power structures. He was a strong critic, not just of colonialism and its legacies, but also of the political and social realities of post-colonial Africa.

Three generations, sharing a screen in Essaouira 🤳🏽

This series, captured by Moroccan photographer @mohammedlifestyle_ , prompted me to ask him about social media use in his home country:

“I think social media has changed Moroccan society enormously, especially among younger generations. It has opened people’s minds to different cultures and ways of thinking. People are more connected to the outside world, and they have more opportunities to
express themselves. At the same time, it has created a certain pressure to show a perfect lifestyle.”

We also spoke about how social media might fuel individualism.

“I think we can see a growing sense of individualism in Morocco, especially among young people who want to build their own identities rather than simply following traditional expectations. However, I think there is an important difference compared to Europe. Family and community remain very important in our culture. We are still strongly connected to one another, even when younger generations are increasingly looking for personal freedom.”

To conclude, I wondered how social media can drive change in Morocco.

“I think social media has become a very powerful tool for young Moroccans. It gives them a voice and allows them to share their frustrations, discuss social problems and bring attention to issues that sometimes don’t get enough attention in traditional media. As a result young people are better informed and more willing to question things. I believe this is an important part of how Moroccan society is evolving nowadays.”

Don’t forget to have a look at Mohammed’s page to learn more about his work! @mohammedlifestyle_

It’s been years since my last introduction. Feeling a bit vain doing this again, but here goes nothing.

My name is Daaf. I’m a writer and correspondent, but most of all a European who constantly questions his own Eurocentric blinkers. For years, I’ve travelled all corners of Africa and beyond to cover topics ranging from coups d’état and youth movements to climate security and conflict.

I’ve always been more compelled by the human stories behind geopolitical trends than by the strategic interests of great powers. This is where The Bright Continent comes in. I’ve been running this platform for almost ten years now. It has brought me lovely stories, great friendships and many lessons.

Here, I will continue to combine field notes from around the world with human-centered dialogue. Together, they allow me to question the status quo and seek a (collective) voice ‘from below’ that goes beyond the conventional structures of national representation.

All of the above observations are woven into my debut book, ‘The Continent of the Future’, which was published last year. Unfortunately, it’s in Dutch, but I’ve made the prologue available in English, which you can read (for free) on my Substack (link in bio).

I hope you’ll stick around,
Daaf @daafborren

PS Want to work together? Ideas or proposals can be submitted via my website (link in bio)

Vila do Pesqueiro sits where the Amazon river meets the Atlantic. Here, it’s all about fresh and salt water, mud or mangrove, and a storm that arrives almost every day, like someone who knows the house.

June 2026, photographer @__raphadutra visited communities across Marajó Island, in Pará: Vila do Pesqueiro, Caju-Una, Água Boa (a quilombo) and Barra Velha.

In her field notes, as shared with The Bright Continent, she explained how young people, fishermen and elders live in harmony with the river, the sea and the storms by adopting the ancestral wisdom of those who belong to the land.

As a photographer, Rapha has been documenting indigenous peoples and their ongoing fight for land and protection for many years: ‘These are people whose lives are often marked by hardship, as they carry both Indigenous and Black ancestry. Yet, at the same time, they have tremendously contributed to Brazil’s history of resistance, from colonial revolts to the most recent elections (won by Lula). They keep shaping the world, every day.’ 💚💛💙

More about Rapha and her work at @__raphadutra

For children growing up in Laft, an ancient port city on Qeshm Island in the Hormozgan province of Iran, summer is, in better times, defined by the sea.

Photographer @aminrahimizadeh shared with me that when the hot season begins, the kids surrender themselves to the sea, seemingly with no intention of leaving the water until summer comes to an end:

‘Sometimes, I find myself thinking that during this season, everyone seems to have gills, spending more time in the water than on land. Perhaps for my generation summer is defined by the heat. But for them, summer equals water. The sea becomes part of their lives, not just a place to spend their time.’

According to Amin, the relationship between children in coastal towns and the sea is as though their home extends from the land into the water.

‘They live together in harmony, protect the endless leap of water and collect their food and livelihood from it. But there’s more. The sea brings these kids some life lessons. About tranquility, patience and consistency.’

Photos by @aminrahimizadeh

It has been a while…

..and it’s great to see you’re still here. After some time away, I’ve finally taken a step back to rethink what The Bright Continent is all about and how to share the road ahead with you.

Somehow, over the years I got caught up in a more facilitating role, which ended up consuming most of my time and drawing me away from what The Bright Continent initially meant to be.

So, I’m returning to this platform’s roots and will bring back the meaningful stories you are used to: more dispatches from the field, more lengthy analyses, photo essays, short documentaries and interviews (at times co-created with you and other voices from across the globe).

For The Bright Continent, I will look at the world as an apprentice and collect ‘knowledge from below’ through cultural frameworks, geopolitical trends and regional philosophies. A more clearly defined route will be announced at a later stage, so stay tuned.

For now, you can follow along here, and on Substack (link in bio). If you have any ideas, proposals or suggestions, I’d love to hear from you via my website (also link in bio).

Daaf @daafborren

Photographer @rafaelabmaia recently visited the Yartung Festival and kindly reported back to us on this celebration of community:

“Villages across Upper Mustang come together for the Yartung Festival, a centuries old celebration marking the end of the harvest season.”

“For several days, communities gather for traditional horse races, riding competitions, music, dancing and feasting. It is a time for locals to come together, celebrate the season’s harvest and enjoy a rare moment of rest before the next cycle begins.”

#uppermustang #onfilm 🎞️

Libyan-American photographer (🎞️) @annissadurar likes to trace the beauty of nature back to the land and the people who tend it:

‘From Morocco and Egypt to Oman and Tunisia; flowers and fruits are where it starts for me, the colors and the scents pull me in first.’

‘But what keeps me coming back is what’s behind that beauty, where it grows and the communities that sustain it, and their ties to the land. Beauty always starts where it blooms, and that’s really the whole theme for me, tracing something beautiful back to the place and people who grow it.’

‘Across all four, Morocco, Egypt, Oman and Tunisia, I noticed the same rhythm: a community coming together, a history tied to the land, and a knowledge passed down through generations, work that relies almost entirely on women’s hands.’

“I have always thought of myself first as a human being and then as a woman.” - Ismat Chugati

Although largely confined to rural areas, a custom called ‘ghoonghat’, which can also be found in other parts of northern India, is particularly common in Rajasthan. Women cover their faces in front of elders, in-laws, or in certain public settings as a mark of modesty and social custom.

Change is happening in the state, however. Young women from the countryside often abandon the veil when they arrive at college. Many women in urban areas have discarded the custom.

Beautifully captured by photographer @sujanyaaa_

In just three months, this has become the largest Ebola outbreak that the DRC has ever known. The figures are alarming, and the virus is spreading at lightning speed.

But beyond the headlines are lives and stories: men and women fighting every day to save lives and families torn apart by the death of their loved ones. It is a journey from hope to sorrow.

By now, the virus has claimed more than 3,000 lives. Let’s not allow silence to accompany its path.

Dispatches and photos from Ituri 🇨🇩, by @juuldewa for @doctorswithoutborders

After the catastrophic 2010 floods, countless spiders sought refuge by climbing up into the trees to avoid the rising water. Because the floodwaters lingered for so long, the trees ended up wrapped in massive sheets of spider silk, transforming parts of Sindh, Pakistan into a strange and confronting sight.

Beautiful images by @russellphoto
via @timetobehave

Okê Caboclo! 💚

The Caboclos de Lança emerged in the late 19th century, in the sugarcane mills of Pernambuco’s Zona da Mata. They are the central figures of Maracatu Rural, a folk tradition of music, dance, procession, and ritual rooted in the rural communities of Pernambuco.

It embodies the resilience and cultural syncretism of rural workers, weaving together local, African and European traditions.

They wear heavy, hand-embroidered costumes, crafted slowly and with extraordinary care. Their wooden lance, adorned with ribbons and fabric, is a symbol of protection and defense. The flower, or carnation, held between the lips is believed to close the body, ward off evil, and preserve strength and resolve.

Words and pictures by @brunnokawagoe

#brasil

Oman’s otherworldly oases, open oceans, and orange-hued outposts as captured by photographer @simonbuxton

#Oman

Cruisin’ with the cool kids in Ramin 🛹

From the NADR series by @mariam.khanlou

Figures in a landscape 🖼️

“I don’t see how it is possible to get at the truth of a country without seeing its underside, its hinterland, its everyday life. Not bureaucrats in offices, but figures in the landscape, are actually the ideal.” - @paul.theroux

📸 @luke_flako

If there’s one thing you read and watch today, let it be the deeply moving work of @ruwanteodros about Lebanon. Please show it a little love ❤️‍🩹
——
Yet another summer arrives, and the sounds of Lebanon don’t change. Neither does the heartbreak.

I walk around Beirut and see evidence of this war in so many places. In the hotel across from my home, there are entire families staying in one room. One family brought their cat, who I see sleeping on the balcony from time to time.

The fatigue on people’s faces, and derelict buildings filled with people who have fled their homes. Children playing together, fathers and mothers sitting on mismatched chairs together, waiting.

Waiting to return home. Waiting for the drones overhead to stop humming. Sometimes you tune out the metallic buzz of the killer bird that can kill on a whim. Other times, you become acutely aware of your own mortality.

Every day, I read different stories and see images of people whose homes have been destroyed and their loved ones who have been killed. I read about daughters losing their fathers, who held their hands as they took their first steps. I read about a pregnant mother, a nurse, killed with her entire family.

Death and destruction is everywhere, from Dahye to the south to the Bekaa, I can hardly catch my breath as I watch people lose everything their families spent decades building.

On the other hand, I see acts of extraordinary strength. I see people vow to return to their destroyed homes, to rebuild, even if they have to live in tents on their own land. I see families rushing home, mattresses strapped to the roof of their cars, while Israeli tanks roll through their villages, flattening the flowers beneath them. I see a man risking his life to bring a piece of chocolate to Tabshour, the donkey he was displaced away from. I mourn Mona Khalil, the environmentalist who refused to abandon her home in Mansouri—or the turtles she had spent her life protecting—and was killed for it.

I see death everywhere, and yet I also see life. Between the ruins and the waiting, between grief and fear, life continues to bloom in the smallest and most defiant ways.

Afghanistan can be terrifying, frustrating, inspiring and shocking in equal measure. A land of wild mountains and unspoiled plains, of woven rugs that carry centuries of history, and of people who want to give you everything they have.

📸 @hana.jelovcan

PS What are your thoughts on the EU starting talks with the Taliban in Brussels earlier this week?

From dusty pitches to crumbling stadiums, wherever I go in the Global South, football has always been the great equaliser. A game that carries the dreams of millions of kids and builds community where little else does.

And then there’s Infantino, flying private while preaching solidarity. Or Trump turning the World Cup into hate speech and a campaign rally. Both men are small in the shadow of what humanity actually means.

The antidote isn’t cynicism. It’s us. Let’s remind them.

1 - Iran, @hashemshakeri
2 - DR Congo, @annitakayiba
3 - Tanzania, @ifa_photography
4 - Brasil, @peach.punk
5 - Tunisia, @yosra_far
6 - Curaçao, @nico.filipporosso
7 - Algeria, @houssem.boulifa
8 - Senegal, @lisa_coulaud
9 - Mauritius, @saintchaz
10 - Iraq, @galbi.iraq, Karim Sahib
11 - Mali, @daafborren

Ceremonial costumes, sacred instruments and the enchanted beings 🪇

When first peoples in Brazil are discussed, the popular imagination often reduces them to images of the rainforest and symbols such as feathered headdresses. Yet this narrow representation overlooks the immense territorial, historical and cultural diversity of the country’s first nations.

Across the sertão of north-eastern Brazil live numerous first peoples from different ethnic groups, each with their own systems of social organisation, cosmologies, languages, rituals and relationships with the land. Recognising the first presence in the sertão is essential to understanding the ethnic and cultural plurality that defines Brazil.

—

When I asked Chief Toá about the attire worn by the Praiás of the Pankararu, he explained that these are sacred ceremonial garments consisting of a mask-cloak (Tanam) and a skirt, both crafted from the fibres of the caroá plant.

These garments are worn during the Toré, a sacred ritual practised by several groups in north-eastern Brazil. Covering the dancer’s entire body, the attire conceals the individual’s identity, allowing them to embody spiritual beings known as the Encantados (“Enchanted Ones”).

Here’s a reflection on the Encantados by the writer Luiz Antonio Simas:

“The enchanted being is one who has become embodied and yet is no longer merely a body; at the same time, the body is all they possess. It is one who has made themselves available to change, to alter the body, to transform experience, to cross thresholds and perceive life in different ways, as a path that rejects mortality and affirms the beauty of being, with freedom as the founding act of existence.”

Brazil is wonderfully surreal. 🤍

📸✒️ @brunnokawagoe

The color and rhythms of Yoruba Vodun culture up close from Porto Novo, Ouidah, Grand Popo and villages inbetween, as captured by @bradogbonna

Yoruba Vodun has its roots among the Yoruba people of present-day Nigeria and Benin, with strong overlaps with the Fon and Ewe peoples of Benin, Togo, and Ghana.

The spirits of Yoruba crossed the Atlantic in the bodies of the enslaved and found their way to, among others, Bahia, Havana, and Port-au-Prince.

Western popular culture has badly distorted Yoruba Vodun, yet there’s nothing to be caricatured as it is in fact one of humanity’s oldest and most influential living traditions.

🇧🇯

Venezuelan Youth 💛💙❤️

This project marks photographer Silvana Trevale’s (@silvanatrevale) tribute to her native country.

It unfolds against the backdrop of social and economic difficulties that continue to shape daily life in Venezuela, compounded in part by years of international sanctions and political tensions involving the United States.

Yet, in her work, Silvana steers away from familiar narratives of turmoil and collapse. Her work presents a more nuanced and intimate portrait of contemporary Venezuelan identity, explored through the experiences and perspectives of a younger generation.

📸 @silvanatrevale

Ninety percent desert, yet home to one of the world’s most densely populated river valleys.

Most people know Egypt for its pyramids. Fewer know about the Nubian communities of the south, the Berber speakers of Siwa Oasis or the Coptic Church.

The real Egypt is hard to photograph as it is not one country but many, stacked on top of each other. Pharaonic, Coptic, Arab, Ottoman, every era left something behind.

📸 @horusama

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes..which one takes the biscuit for you? 💭

1- Egypt, 1985. Photo by Letizia Battaglia

2- Life in the Crucial States (before UAE), 1989. Photo by Ronald Codrai

3- Utoru village, 1959. Photo by Fosco Maraini

4- Flowing robe in Mali, 1968. Photo by NatGeo

5- Snow goggles in Inuit, 1979. Photo by Yukichi Watabe

6- Mother and child in Bhutan, 1989. Photo by Daniel Miller

7- Caïro, 1880s. Photo by Frank E. Spiers

8- Papua New Guinea, 1921. Photo by James Francis

9- Suzhou, China, 1984. Photo by Koichi Saito

10- Uganda, 1965. Photo by Robert Simmons

(Inspired by @equator)

This is Feina camp, in the mountains of Jebel Marra, one of the most remote places I have ever been, and right now a refuge for 40,000 people who fled RSF forces after the fall of El Fasher and ZamZam Camp.

They are living in makeshift homes of rock and mud on the volcanic inclines, hungry and isolated, with no health tacilities and aid that can barely reach them through the terrain.

Women tell their stories on every corner-rape, death, the journey that brought them here. This is SLM-controlled territory, a pocket of the mountains that the RSF has not yet reached but the people here know how fragile that is.

At the same time, what really stood out to me were the small acts of humanity: women braiding each other’s hair, men swooping in to collect rocks to build shelters for the new arrivals, everyone sharing food and clothing, teachers setting up makeshift schools under the trees. Sudanese people are remarkable - they take care of each other down to the smallest detail. These were the moments I felt compelled to document.

I will never forget this place, or the people I met here.

📸📝 @abiconway

In Cachoeira, the ‘Festival of the Waters’ flows through song, memory, and devotion 🤍

A procession of women carries offerings to the Paraguaçu River, bound for Pedra da Baleia, which is a sacred place where (it is said) Yemanjá arrived in the form of a whale, answering the cries of enslaved Africans and choosing to remain with them.

Rooted in the traditions of Candomblé, this ritual carries the living memory of Afro-Brazilian history. Of people forcibly brought across the Atlantic who preserved their beliefs, reshaped them, and transformed pain into culture and faith.

To witness it is to feel history made present.

📸 @__raphadutra

Gao 💛, a city in northern Mali that looks like an organic part of the desert, remains at the crossroads of violence and terror fuelled by a range of (non-)state armed groups. As recently as last week, residents were shaken by fresh attacks.

An excerpt from my book:

While embedded as a correspondent on patrol with UN peacekeepers, we made our way through the neighbourhoods, where the ruins of houses destroyed in the recent violence were still fresh.

But daily life went on too, with pleasant scenes that would never make it to a European copy desk. Further down the road there were soldiers helping a boy push his scooter out of the loose sand. Children were playing, a youth centre filled up again following midday prayers, teenagers were running after a ball like a rampaging herd and at the banks of the Niger, an antique loudspeaker poking out of the boot of a taxi was producing crackling jazz melodies.

Gao may have been at the heart of violence and terror for years now, but it is also one of the friendliest places I’ve ever visited. It keeps reminding me that in the darkest depths of our planet, you can somehow find the very best of humanity as well.

The Strait of Hormuz, seen from Bandar Abbas.

Artist and photographer @mehrdadmosaferii shared his thoughts with us last week, on how your position in the world shapes what you’re allowed to dream about.

‘When I was a child, my father and I would go to the beach. I would gather oysters in hopes of finding a pearl. But my father never picked up a single one. He would just stare at the sea.’

‘When I asked him why he wasn’t collecting oysters with me, he’d say, “Once I’m done counting the ships, I’ll collect oysters with you.” But my father never came.’

‘I opened the oysters by myself, but they were all empty. That was when I understood how much it matters from which side of the bay you look towards the sea. And my father knew that.’

Morning light spills over the cobblestones, people step into their day with calm purpose, and those iconic vintage cars roll through the streets like they’ve never aged. Simple moments feel incredibly cinematic here.

Yet, with the United States further tightening its isolation of Cuba, and a severe shortage of all basic necessities, the future looks deeply uncertain for many Cubans. One can only hope the tide will turn soon. ❤️‍🩹

📸 @panpapaioannou

The origin of “Tunis” is debated, but one theory traces it back to the Amazigh word “tns”, meaning “to lie down” or referring to a place to camp. It suggests the site was recognized as a natural stopping point long before recorded history.

📸 @skylerdahan

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