at the market~ Nothing-not stories of past travels or all of the documentaries and books in the world- can prepare you to go to the market in Bamako. People say that it will be a sensory overload, that you should be well-rested before you go, but after the mind-blowing experience of actually being there...several times now...I cannot help but return to one of my favorite travel quotes:
"the use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality and instead of thinking of how things may be, to see them as they are." ~Samuel Johnson
At the market, you will see a lot of food (I recommend against going to the meat section-lots of live, unhappy chickens and fly-covered chunks of beef), juice and water sold in bags, handmade fabric and jewelry, and many plastic "teapots," which are used for hand washing as well as other kinds of washing (i.e., they help out the left hand with its duties). However, you will also find MANY signs of "neo-colonialism" and/or globalization: cheap European-looking clothes, flip-flops, sunglasses, sugary sodas, and some Obama posters here and there. The packaging of many of these products lines the unpaved pathway that serves as such for not only shoppers and vendors but also motorcycles and cars. If you are in a group of one or more white people, especially white women, you will immediately find yourself surrounded by "helpers" who want to show you around the market and thus earn a sum of the money you pay whatever vendor you eventually choose. Cries of "toubabou" (white person) come from every direction and every age of person, and don't be surprised when people literally grab your arm and try to pull you in every direction. I do not normally have too big of a personal space "bubble," but the Malians may finally have found it.
However, the market it also the center of some people's lives; it is the only source of revenue for a woman who is not well supported by her husband. She somehow finds a way to feed a family by selling small bags of popcorn or plastic sunglasses to her counterparts or the random westerner who decides to brave the market. No wonder they are excited to see us-our light skin tone means money, and it is not as if we don't have it.
After our time at the market, I left with my three white friends and a ridiculous sense of accomplishment in one of the green sotramas (buses-with set lines and stops that everyone apparently just knows without any maps or signs marking stops), new fabric in hand. It was the International Women's Day-March 8, 2011-print. I thought that 10 U.S. dollars for 2 meters was a pretty good deal, until I later realized I could have found the same amount at the wholesale store for 2 U.S. dollars. We definitely have yet to master the art of bargaining...and that of knowing where to go.
The sotrama filled up to what we would call its capacity of about 15...which quickly became 30, but we still succesfully made it back to our families, feeling like we had run about 10 miles and wondering how the adventure of dinner would go. Every day certainly does hold something new and exciting!
Kan ben
No comments:
Post a Comment