Boutiques

My local boutique

Even though I just posted a couple of days ago, I felt it necessary to share one of my favorite aspects of Senegalese society so far, the boutiques. 

            The American equivalent, although it doesn’t truly exist, would be CVS.  These boutiques are quite literally on every corner and sell items from toothpaste (even though the Senegalese don’t use it), to yogurt, to Kerosene, to even phone credit.  Consequently, these boutiques are also the only place to get change in Senegal because there are very few small bills in circulation.

            Upon entering a boutique it can be overwhelming due to the mass amount of goods crammed into a very small space as well as being surrounded by your fellow customers, the flies.  Nevertheless, these boutiques hold a certain charm.  I have started to learn which ones hold the different things I might need, and more importantly they are always a good place to practice a basic Wolof phrase I learnt in class that day.

Everyone in Senegal has their favorite boutique, just as they have their favorite tailor or fruit stand.  However, two nights ago I fell more in love with this local system when I discovered that my family’s favorite boutique (a two second walk from my house) is also my security guard.  Everyone in my neighborhood looks out for each other, but the other night when my Yaay (mother in Wolof) and Papa were at a Muslim brotherhood celebration in Touba and my sister and I were drinking Ataaya at a friend’s house my sense of community increased ten-fold.  On our way home Thiané and I stopped at the boutique not to buy something, but to pick up our key.  Only one key to my house exists, as I discovered last night, and when no one is home (which rarely happens), we leave our key at our local boutique.  There it sat behind the counter among 5 other sets of keys from the neighborhood. 

In the United States putting that much trust into a small boutique might seem dangerous, but I suddenly felt not only a new sense of neighborhood, but secure as well.  For me, the idea of these boutiques localizes globalization.  Every time I see one I am reminded that life is about human interaction not mass production.  These boutiques are not only local staples for acquiring goods but for my family and the Senegalese, they are another form of kinship and trust.