Epic hunts

Dakar is the kind of place that when you are in search of an object or item to purchase, you will never find it. Sellers constantly harass people to buy he most random objects that you don’t need. Once you do need the object, you will not be able to find it no matter where you look. I have had many of these experiences during my time in Dakar. I refer to them as the “epic hunts.” There have been several epic hunts that stand out in my mind. One, from my student days, was searching for scissors to cut my hair. I scoured my neighborhood going to every store and boutique that could possibly sell scissors. I visited about fifteen places and could not find them. The hardware stores only had old rusty pairs, the boutiques only carried child size dull ones, and the shops that furnish the tailors only had shears the length of my arm. Since these were going to be used to cut my hair I wanted to minimize split-ends and lopped off ears. Finally I ended up borrowing a pair from my host mom. Another time, I went on an epic hunt for Dove soap, which is usually an easy task. However after visiting three supermarkets that usually sell it, I was told that the boat that was carrying the soap for all of Senegal was stuck in customs and so it would be awhile until the stores would stock it. This also happened two weeks ago with eggs. The entire city was out of eggs for quite some time.

My most recent epic hunt was for aluminum cups. These cups are everywhere. I think every person in Senegal no matter how rich or poor owns one of these cups. The cups are communal, passed around when sharing water and used in restaurants. They are one of the most ubiquitous items in town. Yet finding them for sale was difficult.

When Otman and I moved into the Mermoz apartment we arrived with three glasses in Otman’s collection of flatware and cutlery. We quickly bought more glasses, a set of six, for daily use and entertaining. After approximately six months, I noticed that of the nine glasses we had, only three remained, one from the original set and two from the new set. So, I went to the market to buy more glasses, I decided to purchase six taller sturdier looking ones. However, now, only three months later, only one of those remains along with one original glass, and one from the first purchased set. I have three pitiful glasses in total.

Why so many broken glasses? I blame it on my kitchen’s design. Whoever designed the kitchen should have their license revoked. There are three drawers in front of the sink’s plumbing and then one huge cupboard with no shelves. Essentially the design is backwards. We keep the flatware in the drawers, because that is the only place they can go. However, the drawers are difficult to close and stick frequently meaning there is a lot of shoving involved. The shoving leads to glasses slamming against each other and thus breaking. Admittedly I have broken two by dropping them and Tarik broke several while I was away.

I reasoned that the only way to combat the broken glass issue was to buy these aluminum cups. They aren’t very pretty but they won’t break in the drawer. I decided to go to Marche Tilene, a local market in the Medina neighborhood, where Otman bought the gaudy jewelry. I did not choose the best time of day to go to the market because it was hot and there were typical Dakar traffic jams caused by cars reversing into oncoming traffic and buses stopped in the middle of the road. When I finally arrived, I found the cups and bargained for them. When I went to take out my wallet, I discovered it was not there. Panicking, I left in a hurry sans cups. Tarik later located the wallet in the garlic and onion container. Anyway, I decided not to return to the market but instead look for these cups in my neighborhood. I could not find them. All of the kitchenware stores did not sell them. Instead, they tried to convince me of the wonders of glasses. One person had the aluminum ones for sale but only as a collection with a huge ugly teapot and tray, which I don’t need.

I happened to be in Yoff on Tuesday. Most neighborhoods have markets where fruit, vegetables, and other goods are sold everyday but then one day a week vendors set up outside of the produce market with other goods. In Yoff the market is on Tuesdays. Knowing that I could find the cups there, I decided to pay the market a visit. It was hot, there were tons of pushy people, and I was in a bad mood. The market smelled like a combination of bad breath, wet cardboard, and meat. It was gross. I walked around trying to find these cups. I found a place that sold them, a regular store not affiliated with the market but they wouldn’t bring down the price so I left. Sure that in the big market, someone else would be selling them. I wandered through the rows of second-hand clothing. Vendors purchase these clothes in bales, clean them, iron them, and then sell them. Some of the clothing still has their thrift store tags on them. A lot of clothing from Savers ends up in Dakar. Walking through the tarp-covered market, I noticed that the woman selling bras was not wearing one and those perusing for new ones, were not considering their size when selecting.

Next to the rows of clothing were the men selling cups, plates, silverware, large silver bowls, Tupperware, and trays. None of them had the cups. The closest thing I found were smaller and with ones with a handle generally used for potty training. Resigned and tired, I returned to the first store I visited. I tried my best to lower the price by haggling in Wolof but the vendor was not impressed. He wouldn’t go under 500 CFA a cup ($1). I ended up buying them at this ridiculous inflated price because I would have paid the difference if I went all the way back to Tilene. The epic hunt for aluminum cups is over and so it’s onto the next.

The cups above the drawer

The cups on the counter