There is a meme of a house with a banner in front that reads, “Welcome Home Cheater”. Many are eager about the Dakar Rally’s return to Africa in 2027, but Marc Joineau is among those who’d rather put that banner up—perhaps with an even nastier one telling it to go away.

It’s been a week since the ASO announced the 2027 Dakar would be moved from Saudi Arabia to Morocco as the war in the Middle East persists. Enthusiasm runs high for many as the rally returns to its roots, starting in Portugal before crossing the Mediterranean into Africa. While not quite going from Paris to the Senegalese capital that gives the rally its name, being back on the continent is a reason for excitement in general.

Others are more concerned because of its new proximity to the Africa Eco Race, which has since filled the gap left by the Dakar’s departure by starting in Europe and finishing on Lac Rose. It was founded in 2009, the same year that Dakar moved from its original home to South America because the 2008 race was called off in response to terrorist threats, and has been conducted annually without much issue since.

With the Dakar back in Africa, the ASO moved the dates back a week to begin on January 9 and conclude on the 23rd. The new end date is extremely close to the Africa Eco Race’s January 24 start, which would make it difficult for teams that plan to run both races. The AER had already postponed its time frame to late January starting with the 2026 edition specifically to avoid clashing with Dakar.

AER director Anthony Schlesser has stressed that his race and Dakar aren’t rivals but “complimentary”: the Eco Race gets the iconic route whereas the ASO has the Dakar brand. He’s likewise praised the ASO for its ability to put together such a massive event and keep everything in order, both of which are “not what we like to do”. Conversely, he calls the AER a more “down to earth” rally with affordable entry barriers and modest accommodations, with Schlesser envisioning gradual growth before capping it off so the race doesn’t grow too big.

Even if the rallies aren’t competing against each other, the differences in how they operate create a cultural divide. On one side, you have the ASO organizing the world’s most famous rally raid while drawing all the big names and brands. On the other, there is the AER that strives to follow and preserve the path which Thierry Sabine dreamed up nearly 50 years ago.

This dichotomy is not uncommon in motorsports. One notable example is in stock car racing, where the corporate yet popular NASCAR contrasts the more humble atmosphere of short tracks. Most drivers in the latter aspire to reach NASCAR, but there are several short trackers who’d rather stay put because they love the grassroots authenticity of their current level. This exists in off-road too, such as the separation between Pro and Sportsman short course racing.

For Joineau, the Dakar coming home to Africa feels like encroachment on the AER’s domain. He was one of the first pioneers at the Paris–Dakar Rally, competing as a Suzuki rider from 1980 to 1987 before six more starts in a buggy. In 2020 and 2026, he took part in the Africa Eco Race on a motorcycle again.

As someone with experience in both, he did not take kindly to what he views as the Dakar becoming more corporatized and straying away from Sabine’s image.

In a diatribe given Thursday, he proclaimed:

Dakar… my ass!

So, Mr. Dakar Organizer, you think you’re the boss of the desert, do you?

You shouldn’t confuse speed with haste. Above all, you shouldn’t confuse organizing a race with armed robbery.

The Africa Race, for her part, has announced her date. She starts in Tangier, says hello, says thank you, does her job properly. You come up behind her, sneaking in like a pickpocket at the subway exit, and you come to jump on her dates because your toy in Saudi Arabia wasn’t ready. You call that sport? That’s the behavior of a shady rug merchant.

All this while talking about Thierry Sabine. Aren’t you ashamed? Sabine once said, “an amateur race where professionals have their place.” Yes, to amateurs, to madmen, to dreamers, to guys who set off with a moped and a water bottle. To the guys who tinkered with their cars in the draft of a poorly insulated garage, with the sweet dream of going all the way.

You closed the door, you put in a tollbooth, a security guard, and a six-figure entry ticket. In your world, a person isn’t a driver anymore: it’s a number, a barcode with a helmet.

Your Dakar isn’t a race anymore. It’s a money-making scheme where they sell sand by the kilo and adventure kits for sponsors in bulletproof vests. The real ones stayed on the other side, on the African side from Tangier, toward Dakar, toward Lac Rose. On the side where we still have the Sabine spirit, that is to say: we stick together, we help each other out, and we don’t leave a friend stranded in the dunes to look good on TV.

Here’s a piece of advice, my friend: leave the Africa Race alone. You’ve already done enough damage as it is. You used Thierry Sabine’s name, you took his legend, you took his desert. And you turned it into a supermarket for petrodollars and pot-bellied sponsors.

If you ever cross paths with Thierry Sabine’s spirit again, hide. Because if he were you, he would’ve already kicked you in the ass all the way to Dakar. On foot. Without assistance.

A little fair play, please! So long, my friend!

Featured image credit: via Marc Joineau