Four 'blancs' at the market

There are no words to truly describe the morning at the market...there were no spaces untouched by people, or market stalls, or motor bikes. So there we were...four blancs (whites) at the market, closely watched, it seemed, for the entire time we were there. If you could imagine a space the size of the entire mayflower mall, including the parking lot, that MIGHT be a small scale replica of what we fought our way through today. This was a Wal Mart supercentre on steroids, complete with a parking lot for horses. Seeing the shape of those poor horses, I'm glad our ride was the four wheel kind.

Karen made an early stop at one of the stalls where she did some negotiating in Creole for 3 machetes--2 smaller ones for cutting grass, and one larger one, which ended up in my hands for the duration of our time at the market. There were more than a few snickers and comments about 'blancs' as we went through, so having a machete in hand did seem to give me a little greater sense of safety.

The first group of stalls we passed through were filled with clothing, with a little something for everyone in the whole family.  Everything was displayed on makeshift clotheslines for clear viewing. I was also glad Beate warned me about the dangers of being tall in the market. To shelter themselves from the dead heat, people either had either used old sheets stretched out and hung with clothespins, or some had very low wavy tin roofs, with rough edges outward-- not an injury I wanted to have.

Shortly after going through the clothing department, we made our way to the 'pharmaceutical section' filled with North American bottles of Tylenol and cold medicines. Most disturbing, however, was this  beautiful young girl, no more than 13, walking through the crowds carrying a box filled with individual pills of all colors and sizes. Not long after she passed, we also walked by a lady with a table full of pills sitting out in full view and in the direct sunshine.

But the biggest eye opener was the fresh meat section, because it was a little too fresh for my liking. Tin bowls that I would use for popcorn, contained raw meat, from intestines, to chicken feet, and most any other edible part of a goat or chicken that you could imagine. Women were digging through the bowls like you or I might do at Sobey's to find the best cut of meat, but none of this meat is packaged, no one was wearing gloves,  and flies seemed to be conducting their own searches in the bowls...it was pretty gross, but it is part of the local reality.

Just when I thought there couldn't possibly be anything left to see, we got to the 'back of the store' where people sell bags and bags of charcoal. The need for charcoal for cooking is one of the reasons there is such a problem with deforestation--people cut down trees and burn the wood just long enough for it to turn black. There were pieces of burned wood in all shapes and sizes, and you could but them by the big bag, or by the armload. 

I think we were all glad to get to the 'parking lot,' although parking was no issue because there were only about 5 lonely horses there amongst the garbage that was dumped. Karen wanted to show us some of the fields behind the market, but that was cut short when a man who had followed us down approached Karen, saying he wanted to talk to us. And when 'blancs' stop too long in one spot, it tends to draw attention, and not in a good way, so we quickly turned ourselves around. I was so glad when Karen's truck came into view. This was just another experience that made me feel so grateful for what we have, and I think the discomfort I felt being part of the minority as one of four 'blancs' in the market was a good lesson too...