Ecopole

Today was a hot one. I have no idea what the temperature was outside in the sun, but all I know is that sweat was running in rivulets down my face as I walked to class at 9 am (think sweatiness of working out). The heat is something I have definitely gotten used to though. When I first arrived I felt so gross being sweaty all the time, but now I have gotten past it and have figured out that everyone else perspires as much as I do. However, the girls and I do talk about how we could really go for a crisp midwestern autumn day about this time. October hasn’t quite felt like itself, and it’s hard to believe that we are fast approaching the end of the month.

This morning held many activities for us girls. We had typical Wolof class for two hours, but afterwards had another cultural session. Instead of staying at the Baobab Center, we went into the downtown Dakar area to visit a place called Ecopole. It is a small sub-region of the downtown, more to the east side. Ecopole is the name of an organization which collects everyday materials (some would call it garbage) and creatively recycles them by making different types of art. For instance, they collect bottle caps and wire them together to make anything from a table top to a small trinket box. They fashion functional rolling play cars out of tin cans and plastic bottle tops. The man who showed us around explained that the organization is not just about recycling; it is about providing jobs for people who have nothing, and affords the many kids who don’t go to school a chance to learn some technical skills. Every year Ecopole hosts an expo where they sell all of the products that they have made. This was the site that we visited.

We were also led around the surrounding area where the people who are involved in the recycling process live and work. The conditions were ridiculous. All of us were made acutely aware of the financial differences between our host families and these families working for Ecopole. There was no way there was a plumbing system, meaning no toilets and worse, no running water. Houses were just shacks lined up next to each other, made helter skelter with whatever leftover materials could be had. Kids were all over the place, most wearing ratty clothing. The living quarters were wedged in right next to the working shanties, whose enterprise varied from a forgery to a woodshop. It is so surreal to see people utilizing technology that to most people in the US is completely obsolete. Dad, I thought of you as I saw two boys about high school aged, working together to saw a piece of wood to make a relatively ornate headboard… They were using a rusty handsaw. I felt so out of place as a “rich white foreign girl” being led around and observing what lot in life these people had been given. Yet despite the stark difference between our socioeconomic levels, the Senegalese were very friendly and chatty with us.

This afternoon we were given a surprise and met briefly for another cultural session only to be given a little piece of homework to be done with our families before meeting again. A group of us wanted to go back into downtown Dakar to check out some traditional African fabrics, so we turned right around and went back into “the city”. It was exhilarating walking around one of the markets by ourselves. As we were walking trying to find the fabric area we were spotted by one of the many “hasslers” Senegalese markets are known for. These guys latch on to people and try to figure out what they are looking for. After extracting that knowledge, they then proceed to try and lure you to a store with that product and act as an intermediary between the vendor and yourself, getting a commission from the process. The last time I had gone into the downtown for a pair of shoes, a man latched on to me and actually was quite helpful in finding me a pair of shoes I liked. All I had to do was describe what I was looking for and he searched out possibilities and I said yes or no. He even made sure it was the right size. Today was not so fortunate. This guy was kind of a sleaze and so he was much harder to shake. Thankfully for us girls, we ducked into a small fabric shop where a really nice seller figured out what we were looking for and brought us over to his brother’s shop where there was more of a selection. We girls have decided that intuition is very astute and we should rely on it in deciding who is worthy of our trust. The nice seller may have had his family in mind when he brought us to his brother’s, but at least the men at the boutique were good humored and were somewhat honest about their fabric. The hassler however, continued to bother us even in the shop, but finally after ignoring him enough, left when we made it clear we were going home.

So goes the adventures of downtown visits. Much is to be seen and experienced. There are always surprises, but little by little I feel as though I am getting the hang of things and these surprises are easily dealt with.

Ba beenen.