Friday is market day. As the daylight rises (around 6am) so does the buzz and clatter of the „grande marchee“. Many vendors travel in the night before and set up their stalls with vegetables and bags of spices, dried fruits, woven mats (great for sleeping on!), chinese flipflops, packaged pasta, bolts of fabric, and slaughtered livestock. Fuel is poured by funnels into liter wine bottles and vended to motor travelers, tailors pump their treadles all day and good are exchanged for FCA's (the currency), most haggling done in Haoussa. Camels and donkeys are parked everwhere in and out of the shade. Children hawk fresh street food in basins on their heads while women drop batter into frying oil along the street.
Everyone sees more business on Fridays, including us health providers, although ours is the only free gig in town. I like the energy boost that market day brings to town.
2 comments:
I just read your last few posts. I do not envy the heat. that is one of the hardest things for me. Do you incessantly feel swollen and lethargic and ill?
I've been thinking of you lots and hope you are finding joy in what you are doing and not feeling terribly alone. love you.
It was great to catch up with you--I love your descriptions of things--the toads, your small garden, market day . . . I can see you there. Love, A
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