Where else would I go on a thursday?

Would you like to buy a goat?

I love markets!  I don’t really care what they are selling.  I just love markets!  Thursday was my day, market day.  I’ve been studying the local language since October and was ready to show off my skills in an effort to be a friendly muzungu (white person) and start slowly but surely, making connections. 

Harriet, our housekeeper and fellow lover of all things in all markets, is my guide.  Our local language is her third language and she says it is quite hard to learn but she has managed.  There will be a time and a place to talk about all things about the town or ‘trading center’ as they call it here.  But for now, just the market.

Where else would I be going on a thursday?

As we leave the school compound, people already are curious.  It is definitely market day because folks are all moving in the same direction, some having walked miles perhaps and others just down the street.  From our place, it is about a 10-15 minute walk to the market.  We pass the bore hole where many children are carrying water for their parents.  School doesn’t start until Monday for most kids so I will be curious to see how many are still around, meaning out of school, when the year begins.

Market Day!

As we pass by women balancing baskets, yellow plastic water jugs and more atop their heads, they look with curiosity.  Some stare a curious but non-threatening look.  Others look away entirely.  I decided back in Kenya that when people look at me, not even stare, but look a little too long, I will greet them.

My most basic greeting almost startles some of the women we pass and they flash big large smiles at my tiny gesture.  Others stop to shake hands but the least I get is a warm, if not surprised, smile.  There are others, mostly children and girls up to the early teens who come follow to greet me.  Many children bow or genuflect when they greet me which feels quite awkward.  Stranger shouldn’t mean elder but I appreciate the gesture.  I like this trading centre.  Sure, I stick out but people are just plain nice and make an effort to make me feel welcome.   

In the trading centre we turn into the market street, I’ve realized that the greeting is accompanied by raising your two hands together – what back in the States is the ‘hands up’ police position here feels gentle and sweet.

I believe I may have a fabric and textile addiction.

The market sells all kinds of things from cows, goats, chickens, pigs (all live and any part of them after slaughter).  Harriet and I went to see the pork selection and watch men with huge pongas take all their might to slice the pig’s legs into pieces.  One woman was particularly interested in cooking the pig’s foot on the fire just behind me.  As we waited in line, a crowd gathered and I used all the language I had to interact.  People were amused with my effort and my mistakes…and the fact that I had practiced all these phrases and things but had no idea how to respond to just about anything.  I couldn’t understand pretty much EVERYTHING these lovely women said to me.  I said ‘good’ or ‘ok’ for a while with a laugh but didn’t want to agree to anything I didn’t understand so then I changed to ‘no’ for a bit. 

I want to buy EVERYTHING!

I love the market.  The vibrant fabrics blow in the dry dusty wind, sandals (or slippers as they’re called here – I prefer wearing slippers personally), electronics, sim cards, maize, plastic buckets galore and more.  For all the clothing for fabric for sale, it looked as though most women were wearing old dusty rags.  Men seemed to have more fresh and cleaner clothes to wear.  I’ll have to look into this and wonder why. 

Decorating my office with market finds.

A tall, woman with fantastic English came up to me, took my hand and announced to me and the other women around us, ‘My name is Beatrice and I would like to be your friend.  I live Saniko village.  Will you come as my guest for a visit?’ 

I’ll be visiting Beatrice on Sunday with a student since her mom lives in the same village and will take me there. 

See you soon, Beatrice.