Last night I saw the new generation of African music, and it doesn't look too much like any other kind of pop, though with its own special Senegalese twist. Rousing anthems, screaming girls, a young guitarist who can play like any of the greats and a frontman with so much presence on stage that it was hard to take your eyes off him, even for all three hours of the concert.

Carlou D makes primarily spiritual pop music but some of his songs, to those who don't understand the language and cultural references, sound like classic Bon Jovi rock anthems. As he sang a duet with the soul singer of the group Daara J Family, I could, for the first time since I've been here, see the future of Senegalese music and imagine that it won't be too long before this stuff is a regular sound on international radio. What a nice feeling to know that other people might, after all this time, also recognise the value in what you love.

I've had a lot of time in the last couple of weeks to think over my years spent living here. I've met up with Senegalese friends I haven't seen in a couple of years, people I fell out with when I was wrought with exhaustion but couldn't get them to see my point of view or lend any sympathy, people who I felt were critical of me and the way I dealt with things here, and hence I let drop. I can see it from their point of view now- that I didn't need to fight every single little thing- but I'm also not sure if I could have lived it any other way. I like to throw myself headfirst into things and defend my values, sometimes regardless of who I might offend. I can see now that there was an easier way of doing things but I was too deeply mired in my own personal issues to recognise it.

I've been accused of being negative about Senegal and as a guest in this country, I suppose my criticisms should have been kept to myself. I know lots of people who have lived here years and not ever taken a bus or paid a water bill themselves. I know lots of Senegalese who avoid that chore, for the simple fact that the bureaucracy involved is soul-sapping. I suppose I should have tried to avoid it too or at least, not whined on about it afterwards. At the same time, since I've been working as a journalist I don't think I've written one story about war or famine but have tried to present the positive side of west Africa. But as a tourist said to me last night, it's just not easy to do things here, and I suppose to be able to write about all the good things, I had to process the difficult things too.

I expect the people who got sick of me complaining about Senegal have long ago given up reading my blog, in which case I am preaching to the converted. But as someone who feels very Senegalese at times, who has spent a third of her life living here, and who loves the country from its extraordinary hill-top monument down to the red beetles that come out when it's about to rain, I feel I need to assert my point. I've had a couple of tough years here and probably said too much about it, but this is a home for me and I'll try to keep writing good stuff about it as long as there's good stuff to write about. Last night's gig was a perfect microcosm of all the great things about this place.