Markets

The sound of a glorious voice filled the air and it took me a while to realize it is coming from right in front of me, from the girl standing at the entrance of the textile shop where we were browsing.  She held a microphone in her hand and was facing away from us towards the isle between the shops.  I don’t think she has seen us.

While I was looking on, some drums were passed into the shop opposite us and two guys started accompanying the girl’s singing.  Soon afterwards voices from all around us in neighboring shops fell into a chorus.  It was one of those magical mornings, full of brilliant colours and textures between the ravishing West African textiles which seemed the ideal backdrop for this unexpected concert. I was most grateful for Maxine’s indecisiveness in choosing material behind me, because I were enthralled and just wanted it to go on and on.



The singing girl



It was a Monday morning and not as busy as it can get later in the week.  Shopkeepers were occupied with their own lives and we went along the stalls experience a bit of their social life.  A young preacher was sermonizing to the passing humanity through a microphone and just a few meters away were another one. Both were oblivious of each other and of, I had the feeling, the people passing by as well.  Maybe the singing girl was there for the same reason but unlike the two guys, she was definitely connecting with people.

The market isles

We moved to the vegetable market and I saw a girl standing high above the produce in her stall looking just too good not to take a photo.  When I asked if I could, she was bashful and said no, but said I should ask the guy in a stall opposite and behind us.  He wanted to know what I wanted the photo for, and eventually agreed to a picture.  When I turned around the girl, still standing high above everyone else had whipped out her phone camera and cheekily proceeding to take a picture of me, after which she agreed I could take one of her… if I bring her a photo next time I come to the market.

The guy accros the isle

An African food market is fascinating: live cat fish, the tiny dried capenta (fish the size of your finger nail) and shrimps, vegetables in bright reds, greens and yellows, eggs, beans, yams and the butchery corner, which is not for the faint hearted.  We were entertained by a detailed explanation and demonstration from a girl selling plantain (looks like green bananas).  Further on at a cooking area a bunch of people were preparing yams and other African foods out in the open.  With Maxine’s inquisitive questioning I got to know a lot more than I usually would have.

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The cheeky girl with the phone camera

As far as we went we talked and were entertained by the vibrant people and must have given them some entertainment as well.  One guy asked us in a heavy American accent if we were from America and when we told him we were Africans he lost interest in us. 

We were the only white people in the market that morning.  When I got home and opened my email there was a warning from the Australian embassy, via my Nieuw Zealand friend warning us not to go to public spaces as it might be dangerous due to the recent bombings.  I am glad I did not see it before we went.

The beadshop

A few days later we went to the (declared safe) Arts and Crafts market for tourist.  Usually I avoid these types of places as it shouts “cheap trinkets”, but not this place.  The huts are tastefully and attractively built, some of the stuff is actually made on the premises.  For instance you could poke your head into a tailor shop and can even have something made if you like. Artist’s paint away in or outside their little studio galleries.  I met the owner of my favorite bead shop at a previous visit, when I saw him using five needles in one hand digging into the bowl of seed beads.  We started talking as, he has not only an wonderful collection of beads in his shop, but is also very knowledgeable about them: the chunky glass beads, the painted Ghana beads, the thick orange “amber”, which he was honest enough to confess, is highly unlikely to be amber today anymore, the camel bone beads from Kenya and the heavy bronze bracelets which are actually old currency and many more.



Mohammed Adamu



At another  favorite of mine, Mohammed Adamu’s hut, we encountered beautiful old masks, carved wooden doors, Benin bronzes and many more He is a keen informant about all the wonderful things he collects on his travels, stones, arrow points, old currency, old music instruments and of course the usual masks.  With great pleasure he told me he is a Fulani, (the first one I’ve met) of the peoples I have heard so much.  The Fulani’s are migrant farmers who live and trek over five countries, often in conflict with stationary crop farmers.

Yes there are the irritating sellers who nag you to buy, but one tends to go back to those like Mohammed who happily and proudly impart knowledge regardless whether you buy or not. Right opposite his stall, is a stall where skins and stuffed baby crocodiles are sold. “All from South Africa”, said the shop keeper, not knowing we are from South Africa, a mistake they often make when judging us by our skin colour. Now he can nag, bringing out cheaper and cheaper stuff as you refuse, and eventually ends up with tiny beads, while telling you he is desperate to sell because his wife nags him.

Some of Mohammeds collection

I love going to these markets to see all the interesting stuff but mostly to meet and talk to the vibrant and interesting people.  The Nigerians fascinate me because as the saying go “you will find all kinds of people in all countries”, are even more applicable here. I know the fraudulent element is very much around (being corrupted by two dictatorships), but the opposite is here too: friendly, gentle, honest, God fearing people, with a “live and let live” attitude. They love life regardless of their hardships…and are willing to share a bit of that love with you…...if you are tolerant.