praia ka sabi

On a hot day, it’s hard to tell if it is the heat or wind that gives the air its hazy glow. Sitting outside the churrasqueria, the smoke from the grill combats the faint odor of trash wafting from a nearby dumpster. Though hidden from the sun by a tattered awning, I keep my sunglasses on to protect my eyes from the constant battering of sand, dirt and god knows what else carried in the breeze. Nearby, a woman’s dress is lifted flirtatiously and dances in the breeze as she stands perched on 4 inch stiletto heels, impossibly balanced on the cobblestone road. The brightly patterned cloth seems nothing more than an accessory as her full chest nearly pours into the window of the car by which she stands. Dogs and children play in the street nearby.

I am surprised every day by how dirty Praia is. My alarm jars me at 6 a.m. to run, but it is the few moments of peace that exist before the city wakes that gets me out of bed. As I step out into the sunrise, my foot lands in a dirty plastic bag that once held the trash now covering my doorstep. A faint rotting smell rises up around me that I know will only get worse as the sun bakes the dirty streets. For now though, it is cool and quiet.

A few fellow joggers pass by as I watch the street dogs play. Males swarm around females with a playful/threatening air. At least once a week I run past a pack of young dogs mounting some poor bitch and I can’t help but think of the way drunk men gather around scantily clothed, full figured girls as parties carry on into the night. Life here is raw.

I shake these thoughts from my head as I pick up the pace from walk to run. I miss fresh air. Though I am less than a mile from the ocean, what I breathe is heavy and putrid. Though the water is in sight, the sound of waves is swallowed by cars rattling by, spewing exhaust into the air. The steady pace of my footfall brings me peace. Despite the sounds and smells around me, I am able to push on.

A few dogs give a wary glance and a cat streaks from the dumpster as I pass. The scattered trash is brightened by fallen flower petals from the glorious bougainvillea peeking out from over the fence. It seems a miracle that flowers continue to bloom in such circumstances. It is April. It hasn’t rained in seven months, yet the bright purple flowers persevere, a reminder of the resilience of life in dire circumstances.

I have often wondered with amazement how people manage to squeeze out an existence in places such as this. Without people, Cape Verde is nothing but barren rocks, volcanic slopes and alternating stretches of beach and rocky coastline. Unlike the evolutionary Galapagos teeming with life, the islands of Cape Verde would serve as a stopping point for turtles and a few adventurous species of birds. Small lizards will scurry from underfoot, but the dogs, though wild, are not indigenous. Cows are hardly sustained, and the rooster whose cry can be heard even in the city streets is as much an immigrant as I. Goats could survive here, but would never have survived the commute from the continent, almost 400 miles away. Neither would have pigs, cats, horses and donkeys.

And people? I guess there would be people here regardless. In some, there is an undeniable force pushing towards elsewhere. Think of all the inhabited islands in the South Pacific... Since the beginning of time, man has wandered the land under his feet. When he ran out of land, he developed a way to chase the horizon. When he ran out of horizon, he set his sight on the stars. I too shall chase the stars, but let us not forget the ground on which we already stand and those with whom we stand. How many times has it been said that a bundle is stronger than a single strand, yet those who have a bundle will refuse refuge for a single strand. Those with a few will give to all while those with a single strand are too afraid to join together to create a bundle.

I guess what I am saying is that we are all in this together. The good, the bad, the ugly, beleza and everything in between.