Washing Away Dirt & Confusion

It felt like a ‘treat yo’self’ kind of night in Mermoz. Seven hours of classes, in French, can catch up with you, and sometimes an American exchange student in Dakar just has to indulge a little.

I had made sure to stock up on the necessities for my evening. After stopping at the grocery store near home that carried fiber-rich Wasa crackers, I used the internet at Caesar’s Restaurant (whose sign boasts its high-end cuisine can be found in the three great cities of the world: New York, Paris, and Dakar) to download a New York Time’s “Modern Love” podcast. Now back at home, I cracked upon the crumbly Wasas and opened one of my carefully rationed Justin’s almond butter packets from home. Sitting back on my bed I squeezed out the nutty, creamy paste onto a couple crackers while popping in my headphones. Before the podcast began, a woman’s cool and calm voice soothingly delivered the pre-episode ad that was carefully selected and written for the predicted audience. “Living Proof’s dry shampoo is so good you could take a spin class and not wash your hair.”

I hit pause, squeezed out some more ‘gold dust’ almond butter, and reflected. Being able to take a spin class and not wash your hair is really Living Proof’s selling point? As a SoulCycle veteran, I know just how disgustingly sweaty one becomes after an hour of indoor cycling. I glanced over at my shelf, cluttered with sunscreen and bugspray, and, a can of barely used dry shampoo.

Before coming to Senegal I had various conversations with family and friends about the various things I should stock up on before venturing across the ocean. One of the reoccurring themes was our shared impression that showers would be few and far between. Hence, my Samsonite duffel had an ample supply of wipes, deodorant, and dry shampoo to keep my hygiene at bay in between showering opportunities. Less than 24 hours in the country I realized just how wrong we all were. In my 25 days here I have had a shower every single day. Yes, they sometimes have been fueled by a bucket, and no, they have never been warm, but I think it’s safe to say I have never been cleaner in my life. And, I don’t think I have ever been surrounded by cleaner people. I one time walked up to the roof of my house only to find a member of my host family scrubbing her skin with a heavy-duty brush and no-nonsense soap. She wasn’t messing around when it came to cleanliness, and she’s not the exception. Showers once a day are expected; showers twice a day are encouraged. So why do Americans proudly, yet falsely, believe they are citizens of the cleanest country?

Hygiene is one of the most basic elements of daily life. In our wrong understanding that Africans skimp on showers, we are endorsing the idea that the personal aspects of our daily life are inherently superior. We assume that due to Africa’s lower GDP, they have chosen to economize by neglecting cleanliness. This is partly because in America we have great difficulty economizing. Given the choice, many of us would rather skimp on shower time in order to keep our air conditioning and internet. However in Senegal, families make the conscious decision to conserve electricity, reuse as much as they can, and implement various other frugal measures in order to still maintain the most necessary human activity.

When we continue to believe that African citizens have a different definition of cleanliness we continue to broaden the gap between us and them. The wider the gap and the greater our sense of advancement and superiority, the easier it is to sheepishly shy away from helping every time we hear of a natural disaster or an epidemic. We can acknowledge the gravity of a tragedy, but when we picture the “them” as people different from us and inherently inferior we can better internally justify our reluctance to act.

When I told people where I was studying abroad, I was met with praise and also the honest admittance that they “could never do that.” To set the record straight, all those people definitely could! There is overwhelming hospitality (teranga) in Senegal and it wouldn’t take long for anyone to start to feel at home. But to be fair, for anyone coming from a country where some dry shampoo is believed to be sufficient post-spin, I think some need to be prepared for a cleanliness culture shock, just not in the way they might expect.