Market Place Adventures

On Saturday I and the other teaching volunteers took a trip to the market downtown. We hopped on the 7 which with all of its usefulness reminds me somewhat of the 70 bus in DC. The bus has a row of one seat on each side that faces forward, seats in the far back and handicap seating in the front. With the limited seating most people are standing and the bus gets packed. It's also harder to keep your balance (or at least it is for me) because the streets are not all paved. In addition there is sand all over the floor of the bus.

When you get on the bus, you load in the back of the bus and pay in the back. Then find a spot and grab hold of a handle and stay on until your stop comes. We were not entirely certain where we needed to get off but once we saw the bright colors of the fabrics sold on the streets, the clothes, and other items on sale we knew we had found the right spot.

Just like in any other city there are hustlers. Almost as soon as we got off the bus, we somehow found ourselves in a fabric store and one of us ended up buying a yard of unneeded fabric. It seemed like everyone knew we were American. A guy approached another one of us on the street seemingly good naturedly. He gave us useful information and we followed him off of the main street into a cooridor with numerous shops and BAM! Just like that, we were trapped.

"My sister!" "My brother!" They called. "Madame! Only 5000 CFA."

After awhile there are only so many "no mercis" you can say. One of the vendors, a painter, declared his love for me and invited me to his house for thiebou dienne. Several minutes later I was physically pulled out of the cooridor with 2 paintings in tow... I didn't buy them because he said he loved me, I'm just one of those pushovers who will eventually buy something if you keep on carefully insisting.

And I was pulled out because there were two other sellers who would not leave me alone. On side there was a woman would not leave my side and kept attempting to press her necklaces on me. Then there was a boy trying to sell me naked wooden statues. Those are just not my thing. The paintings can hang on the wall in my room and I'll grow to love them.

All four of us had bought something by the time we left the area. We continued down the street, my friend strumming the strings of his new little fiddle as we walked. When we finally found the bus stop to go home, we were then harrassed by a little bedouin nomad girl who threatened to follow me to my house and kill me if I didn't give her money. I took my chances and kept my money. It was in the end a fun day. And you know what, I'm still alive.