Ali Skanda

I was born into dhow-building. In Lamu, the dhow is not simply a boat—it is our identity, our connection to centuries of Swahili maritime culture. My grandfather built dhows. My father built dhows. From childhood, I learned to read wood grain, to carve intricate patterns, to understand how wind and water move together. The workshop was my classroom, and the ocean was my teacher. But over the years, I watched something devastating happen. The beaches of my childhood became carpeted with plastic waste. Flip-flops, bottles, bags—debris from across the Indian Ocean accumulated on our shores. The sea that sustained us was being poisoned. I felt anger, then helplessness. What could one dhow builder do against such overwhelming waste? Then came the conversation that changed everything. When Ben (Morison) approached me about building a dhow from recycled plastic, my first reaction was disbelief. Plastic is not wood. It doesn’t breathe, doesn’t have soul. But they challenged me: “Ali, what if we could turn this curse into something beautiful? What if we could show the world that solutions exist?”

What propels me is the knowledge that our traditional ways hold answers to modern problems. For generations, my family has built dhows using skills passed down through centuries. We understood how to work with materials meant to last, how to read the ocean, how to create beauty from what we had. When the world began drowning in plastic waste, I saw an opportunity to honor this heritage while addressing an urgent crisis. This drives me forward: the belief that we do not need to abandon our culture to solve environmental challenges. Our ancestral wisdom offers the pathway we need.

Through the Flipflopi Project, we’ve proven that waste can become something beautiful and purposeful. Building the world’s first sailing dhow from recycled plastic wasn’t just about innovation— it was about showing that our heritage holds solutions to contemporary problems. When we sailed from Kenya to Tanzania and around Lake Victoria, reaching 850 million people with our message, I witnessed communities awakening to their own power to create change. The impact extends beyond the vessel itself. We now employ over 40 people, support traditional artisans, and train youth in centuries-old dhow-building techniques adapted for a circular economy.

Our work has influenced policy discussions, with legislation now before the East African Legislative Assembly to ban single-use plastics regionally. Most importantly, we’ve ignited hope in communities that felt powerless against the plastic tide.