The Market

"One of the reasons we're here is to be a part of this process of exchange." - Dizzy Gillespie

We met a group of Canadian women who will be volunteering at ASDAP for two months as well, got our certificates from orientation and for lunch had cous-cous and chicken that looked like it had walked to the ends of the earth and back before it ended up on our plates.

Coumba said we should go shopping for my dress for the wedding today and that since we were going to the market she would help us get what else we needed. She told us that the supermarket we had been going to was too expensive (indeed) and showed us another small one across the street and halfway hidden by the overpass with much better prices. We stopped by our place to drop off the cases of bottled water, empty our bags, and then we couldn't find Coumba. I went into my room since I saw her shoes kicked off at the door and there she was in the corner facing east, her head and body draped in an embroidered cloth praying. Then all of a sudden it made sense why she had rushed in, washed her face and hands, slipped on my house slippers and needed to ask the neighbor a question. Probably which way was east. I backed out of the room and closed the door and we waited for her to finish.

Meanwhile some of Rodney’s acquaintances came by and he went down to talk to them. Coumba eyed them as we left and said be careful with them. Don’t take out more money than you need when you go out with them; don’t invite them into your house; don’t lend them anything. I asked her why and she said you have to be careful of young men who quickly befriend people they know are strangers in town. Rodney does have some odd friends but I think it is a function of the salt of the earth lifestyle he is living now.

We hadn't reached the end of our street before a huge dust storm swirled up in the distance. I closed my window quickly but Coumba who was driving a stick and slowing down at the intersection closed hers more slowly. The dust overtook the car and I bent over as small rocks sprayed the back of my neck and dirt became ingrained there. Yikes. And then it was over.

The market was nuts, very packed and you have to know exactly who sells what were. As Coumba wound her way through the market to find cloth for my dress, a wash basin, cord, pins, and scrub brush for us we all followed, squeezing in between hordes of people, ducking into and out of stalls, dodging wheeled carts of merchandise, sidestepping puddles of mysterious liquid, and going around market women frying skewered pieces of meat. If we had gone ourselves we would have been there all day. Not to mention all the people who were trying to get us to buy from them. The print for my dress is dark indigo, white, and rose with a dark indigo headwrap. Coumba says it has to be a simple cut with no embroidery if it will be ready in time for the wedding. The cost was the equivalent of 16.50 USD for the fabric and 3.50 USD for the tailor to cut and hem it. Wow.

When we bought the string for our laundry line I asked Rodney and Andrew how much they thought we needed. Andrew didn't say anything so Rodney and I talked it out and decided on an amount which the vendor promptly cut. As we were reaching for money to pay Andrew said this isn't enough why aren't we buying more? Argh. He left the cyber café earlier in a tiff about how much he was being charged to use his laptop here. Rodney and I have been here all week and have had no problems. I asked Andrew to calm down and ask questions if there was a misunderstanding not just get angry immediately. Especially since will be in and out of this place for two months as it is at the end of our block.

Earlier this week Coumba asked Andrew if he was missing his mother. We all laughed but she was serious. He said no. She asked him if it was his girlfriend he was missing then. He said no to that too. But I do get the sense that something serious is upsetting and because he is not expressing it he takes it out on all the little things. Like for lunch one day we had fish, rice and vegetables. He pushed his plate away after taking a few bites. Someone asked him what was wrong. He said the fish tasted different. (To me it didn't taste any different than any other broiled/grilled fish in the States.) Someone helped themselves to his fish and that was the end of that.

Coumba took Rodney into the market to buy his spinach and Andrew and I stayed in the car which Coumba precariously double-parked. Pretty soon a huge bus was behind us trying to turn and honking for us to move. Coumba hadn't left the key in the car. People started yelling to move the car. I yelled back that I didn't have the key. The bus was still honking loudly. The vendors started inching close and saying move the car, why aren't you moving the car? I said do you have the key? I don't. What do you want me to do?

I got out of the car briefly to see if I could see Coumba and Rodney but all I could see was a crowd of annoyed people closing in so I got back in. Still the honking. And then a helpful guy came over and suggested I push the clutch in while he and some others push the car. More honking. I stretched my leg over (I wasn't getting out again) and pushed the clutch in and moved the gear to neutral. They pushed but the car didn't budge. And then Coumba was there, seemingly looking at all of us like we were crazy. She got in and I let Rodney in. She turned the key in the ignition, disengaged the emergency brake and off we went. Ah yes the emergency brake.