Market Day Fun

Buses slowed, people pointed and we kept walking.  I am not sure what the village crowd thought of the four strange white people following a local mama into the crowded morning market.  Children shyly greeted us, faces beaming as we shook their hands.  Heads turned and whispers of "mzungu" echoed through the crowd.  

Just off the road and up the hill, vendors were setting up their displays of fabric, clothes and shoes.  We crossed through and wove our way uphill, between the buildings to the food market.  The hillls were steep--and crowded!  Worn tarps covered the ground with produce and baskets piled high. In order get to the vendor with the best prices, we needed to squeeze through an already crowded area (tighter than shoulder to shoulder).  First on the list, carrots.  While negotiating the price, I had a man trying to sell me zucchini--300RWF ($.50) each, or, great price, 3 for 1000RWF!  I didn't buy the zucchini.  The carrots were sold by the bin--stuffed in, overflowing.  The same with the tomatoes.  I chose carefully and soon had a bagful of vegetables for under $3.  We bought bananas ($.15 each), mangos (small ones for $.15 each) and guava.  Onions, 3 bunches for $.50 (100RWF each) and beans, a large container for $4.  People pressed in at all sides and smaller children eyed my purse, hoping for a coin or two to drop.  Larger bills (of $9) were discouraged, as most did not have sufficient change.  

Once we were done our shopping, we followed Mama JoJo as she finished her purchases.  It was interesting to watch the bartering, facial expressions and bantering.  Each item is carefully selected, weighed out and packed in a worn shopping bag.  After squeezing once again through the tight crowd with a rather extreme pungent odour (keep in mind no deodorant or perfume is worn), we managed to get back down to the main road.  The crowd was thicker, as it was approaching 8 am now.  One item left on the list--meat!

With slightly trembling knees, we approached the butcher shop.  The room was tiny, with a large counter.  A part of a cow was hanging with some other unidentifiable pieces of meat (or hide?).  Flies were everywhere and the stomach was spread on the table.  The butcher would chop, weigh and toss the meat on the floor (I couldn't see back to tell if a bin was there).  The chopping was a bit over zealous and bits of meat flew everywhere.  The smells . . .well, let's just say fresh air was a welcome relief.

The walk back to the property was filled with laughter and visiting with friends from everywhere. We were introduced all around.  Hands were shaken or held and pleasantries exchanged.  Once at the home, the produce unpacked and bags stowed until the next market day.  Hands were thoroughly washed and a quiet, open living room in the mission house was a welcome relief.