Soap-Making Formation

Aliwata, Bamoru, Daouda, and Dramani assemble the cutting knife (a strand of brake wire stretched taut) on the table we had custom-built back in September from a shop in the nearby city of Dioro.

On January 31st, our Water and Sanitation Committee ('ji ni saniya tɔn sigi') held our long-awaited soap-making formation.

As I had mentioned previously, Daouda and Dramani had previously gone to the nearby city of Dioro to observe a current soap-making operation. They returned very fond of this specific operation.

Unfortunately, the woman who makes soap in Dioro would not divulge the recipe of the soap. We only knew that 'shi tulu' (shea butter), the oil most commonly used in locally-crafted soaps, could not be used because the resulting soap is too hard to be cut using the table.

This woman had learned to make soap through a formation. The man who ran the formation is currently out of the country, and is likely too expensive for our budget anyways. I had purchased all of the required materials out of my living allowance, and am unable to either pay out-of-pocket, or find the additional funds, to pay for such a formation. I was willing to pay for the materials because the villagers are learning a skill which can be used into the future. After the formation, it is up to the villagers to raise money for the operation on their own.

So in lieu of the actual formation, I used a simple recipe found in one of our Peace Corps manuals, tailoring it to the locally-available 'kwarikuru tulu' (cottonseed oil I believe), which was recommended by the Dioro woman.

I ran the formation rather loosely, allowing our committee members to take charge while I played an advisory role.

Umu and Aja, two women on our committee, dissolving 'sɛgɛ' (lye) in water at the start of our soap-making formation as other women look on. 'Sɛgɛ' is known to be very dangerous to handle. Contact with skin, and even smelling the odor, can be dangerous. Hence the precautions taken by the women.

The process is to dissolve 'sɛgɛ' (lye) in water, then to stir previously-heated 'kwarikuru tulu' into the mixture, along with a couple of small packs of 'safinɛ mugu' (powdered laundry soap) for scent. The mixture is stirred until it is well-mixed and begins to solidify. It is then poured into a large rectangular form, left to set for several hours, and cut into blocks using the table.

Ba and Umu, two women on our committee, stir 'kwarikuru tulu' (a locally-available oil, cottonseed oil I believe), which was just heated over a fire, into the lye/ water mixture.

Unfortunately, the formation took a very troubling turn while the women were stirring the soap after adding the 'kwarikuru tulu.' After about twenty minutes, one woman dabbed some of the mixture into her hands and tried washing her hand with it. She then exclaimed 'A ma ɲi few!' ('It's not good at all!'), complaining that the soap did not lather and was way too oily.

The other women concurred, and everyone had their own ideas of what needed to be done. I suggested that it was still early in the process - we can't judge the soap until it has solidified. Women were calling for us to add all sorts of ingredients, among them flour, salt, and 'malo bu' (grounded, powdered rice shells). But the majority were calling for more 'sɛgɛ,' saying it would 'eat up' the extra oil.

I was concerned about adding more 'sɛgɛ', considering how dangerous the material can be. The mixture was already cooling and solidifying - would the 'sɛgɛ' even dissolve at this stage? But a couple women who had made soap before, albeit with different ingredients, claimed that their soap had been too oily as well, and adding additional 'sɛgɛ' fixed everything.

Women watch and take turns stirring the mixture during the soap-making formation. A good number of women came out to participate in the formation. (Yes, those are two other white people in the back - two new Peace Corps volunteers, Jessica and Sean, have been placed very close to my site and came out to observe the formation.)

So I told them, it is your soap, your formation. I have never made soap before, I am just following the recipe that i had obtained. I told them it is your call.

They went and obtained additional 'sɛgɛ' and added it to the mixture. It was already rather powdered, so I couldn't tell if it actually fully dissolved. But about 5 minutes later, another woman took a swath of the mixture, put it in a cup of water, and sloshed it around. It sudded up instantly. So they claimed that the additional 'sɛgɛ' had worked. The soap was fixed.

I, however, have my doubts. For one, we never tried sloshing it around in water before adding the additional 'sɛgɛ', so there is no comparison there to be made. I tried washing my hand with it, and it seemed to be exactly the same as before.

Regardless, after the mixture had solidified a bit, we poured it into our rectangular mold and let it sit until late in the afternoon. When we gathered together to remove the soap from the mold and cut it, the mood of the women had made a complete 180 degree turn.

Lassana, Daouda, Dramani, and Yaoussa, members of our committee, cut the soap into bars using the table in the late afternoon, after the soap was left for several hours to solidify.

The women had always expressed a desire to make specifically 'toubabu safinɛ' (white-people/ European soap). This soap is always white and cut neatly, whereas rural African soap is generally yellow or brown and rolled into balls. Our soap turned out to be as white as snow. Additionally, the soap was dry and solid, but malleable. It was quickly and effortlessly cut into neat, uniform blocks using the table.

The women were beside themselves with excitement. Everyone complemented each other on the quality of the soap, and people passing by gave us ringing endorsements, 'Aɲana koi! Aw yɛ bara ɲuman kɛ!' ('It's very good! You all did great work!')

The soap was significantly less oily than before it had dried, but it still seemed to leave some oily residue on your hands. This, however, is hard to tell because even the most expensive soap seems to be tough to fully remove in this country. So the jury is still out on that, but the women no longer seemed to mind. We had white, rectangular soap after all! Its the look, the packaging that makes the difference!

Despite the reversal of fortunes, I have my qualms with the soap. For one, the recipe did not produce the yield required to offset the cost of the ingredients and turn a profit. In order to simply break even, we would have to sell the soap at a fairly high, uncompetitive cost. We have to bring the cost down, and this is why the Dioro soap may make use of additional, superfluous ingredients like flour. It may simply be a low-cost filler.

I also have my concern of adding additional 'sɛgɛ' to the recipe. Bottom-line, our work is not done. I am going to ask around and do some research to try and learn how we can improve our soap, while bringing the cost down. Then we can hold another formation and hope for better, more economical results.