A'marketing we'll go

Today, I went down to a minority market area to look for furniture and to buy some almonds. I don't have a picture but I'm going to do my best to describe what I saw. They have one large building that serves as the furniture market for the town. About 100 or more vendors all rent spaces in this and sell their variety of furniture-some specialize in stools and coatracks, some sell wardrobes, some sell office furniture, etc. I looked around for over an hour, asking for prices and trying to comparison shop, and then left to get the almonds and get back home. As I walked out of the gate around the large furniture market, there were 7 men standing around playing cards and chatting. Nearly all the men here wear dark gray pants, white/gray shirt, and suit jackets, day in, day out. When they saw me, they all stopped and stared. These were not inappropriate stares- these were stares of men who have hardly ever seen a white woman.

Then I passed two ladies, one in the normal Muslim dress of women here- skirt to the ankles, blouse past the elbows, and a scarf around the hair & neck. The other woman was wearing a full burqa, which is rare here, so I was looking at her. Both ladies were staring at me, and when we realized we were all staring at each other, we exchanged smiles and looked away. I assume the lady wearing the burqa was smiling with us. To my right, seated on the dusty cement in the road (but not necessarily where the cars drive) was a crippled woman with her child begging for money. They just lay there on the road all day hoping others will be generous. When I dropped the equivalent of about 60 cents into her bowl, she grabbed it and turned around and joyously shouted to the men behind her, who in turn gave her a thumbs up and smiles.

Crossing the road consisted of waiting until a donkey cart passed (a wooden cart with a man in it, being pulled by a donkey), jumping out in front of a taxi, scurrying across to the middle of the road, getting honked at by a bus that was driving in the middle of the road and running in front of that one, then hesitating because I thought another bus was coming, but no- it came to a rapid stop so I hurried along.

Walking to my left, still along the curb of the road, I passed about 12 ladies seated on little stools about 3 feet apart, each one cooking sweet potatoes right there on the road, and offering them to passersby. Why do they all cook the same thing and all sit right by each other? I don't know. But they do. Then I crossed over to the "nuts" section of the bazaar, where there are stands along one strip of shops that sell all kinds of nuts and herbs. I went over and picked up the almonds I was wanting and asked how much. He told me a price that was 25 cents less per kilogram than the last guy I bought from. That sounded good to me, so I bought a whole kilo. Then I walked back out, the same way I came in, passing a little old man with a Muslim hat on and a long white beard. He came about to my shoulders and had on a dark brown blazer, and I wish I knew enough language to talk with the older folks like him. You know his life story has to be interesting, and totally different from anything you or I have ever known.

Getting a taxi took longer than usual, so I had to cross that same intersection and walk in the sun, carrying my little bag, just like everyone else- right on the side of the street. Walking like that made me feel like one of them, until I realized everything in my entire experience today was totally different from anything I've ever known. And I was different from anything they'd ever known. Going to the market is always a nice reminder that, indeed, "We're not in Kansas anymore".