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Published: July 10th 2009
So I'm walking down the street, one of the few that's paved and has a side walk, and I hear this huge clunk sound from behind me and turning around there's a car rolling right in my direction! I say rolling because it couldn't have been moving any faster than 20 km/h and I wasn't all that concerned about having enough time to move out of the way but another pedestrian, adorned head to foot in traditional muslim dress, grabbed my arm and pulled me further off to the side. We both turned and watched the car, minus one hubcab, rumble past, bump back onto the road and continue around a corner. So here I am, with my arm still firmly in the grip of a stranger not quite sure what to make of the situation when he starts spouting that the car was headed "right for my back" and "it came up right behind you" and "he was watching you as he went by!" "that's just not right... there's something really wrong about that.." and then all the mutterings of disbelief (while i was trying to extricate my arm) were silenced, my arm released and instead my hand grabbed, and the stranger (the man who allegedly saved my life) started to pray. still a little confused about the whole situation, i waited patiently until he had said amen, thanked him for his help and that was that. we both went on our respective directions. just another day living in mwanza... or something.
I finally found the market! and logically that would mean that up until now, and I've been in this town for almost three weeks, I haven't known where the market is which is a little embarassing but true. OK, to clarify, there are several little markets and the one i've been going to, up until my discovery, is a slightly smaller fruit/veg market that sets up on weekends but it doesnt compare to the real market. and as for how i managed not to find it, it's tucked away off one of the main streets but there's nothing to give away its presence. walking between vw vans, or the local transit system, parked with doors open and drivers encouraging you take a trip to random parts of the region, there's a turnoff lined with vendors selling different fruits and vegetables. turning down this second side street you come to a set of gates that no longer have any function and, even if they did, wouldn't be effective. just through these gates, is the market. the gates mark the formal entry point but the men and women lining the path with their mangos and tomatoes and oranges continue uninterrupted. when you first enter you come to a split and can either head straight ahead through to more veggies and eventually the land of meat where cow carcasses are not just hanging but steaks are strewn across the window sills of the small stalls, or turn up into the centre where fish fill long troughs and chicken are sqwaking away in their wooden cages, or enter a covered plaza filled with bags of different dried beans, peanuts, rice, and bright red and orange and yellow spices. there's 12 year old boys walking around without shoes trying to sell plastic bags to shoppers and rats running between the dried goods. the smell of fish and sweetness of fresh fruit mixes with the dirt and congestion of people and, from the far side, cooking over open fires. it's a great place to wander through and such a foreign experience!
i wish though, if there's one thing that's starting to rub me the wrong way about this place, that the locals would understand that i am not their sister, honey, baby or friend. everywhere you go, men call out hellos and greetings in swahili, and im sure something not quite so polite when you ignore them but ignorance is bliss and i'd rather not know what follows. very few will directly approach you or make a move in your direction, mostly its just lazy calls from where they're perched, but if you stop, slow, turn to look, give any indication that you've heard what was said never mind answering back, it only encourages and the response is a barrage of swahili (i'm also happy not to know what is said here) from the entire group and any other male in the nearby vicinity. i've had one or two street kids brazen enough to grab my arm when i walk past as they greet you and i don't mean to be rude by ignoring them but the next thing to follow hello is "give me money." these guys don't waste any time, they get straight to the point. unfortunately there's about five hundred kids on the street, running around sniffing glue, trying to avoid the police and make a few shillings off a tourist.
that's the downside to being here, the upside is that on a friday night im sitting on the roof of a hotel overlooking the entire town and bay watching the sunset with a beer in hand and two fellow canadians for company. this research thing has its upsides!
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Brad
non-member comment
Hey Kim
It sounds very crazy over there. Not your exactly your common "sitting on a beach drinking pina coladas" vacation hey? Are there many tourists that frequent the town you are in? Those pictures that you posted of the labs don't make them out to be too high tech...maybe it was just the angle the pic was taken at... Are you going to have any time to get out on a safari or do a little non-philanthropy-related travel in the area? Perhaps pick me up those blood diamonds I have been so patiently awaiting? Things are going good back here, except for the level of strangeness in the meals that Mom and Dad eat is steadily increasing. I think by the end of summer we will be eating 100% tofu and lentils...on a completely unrelated note I have been eating out much more frequently. Oh, and Ty smashed up his nose when he allegedly swam into a pool wall while he was swimming laps sober at 10am; nobody around here believes the story through. We are convinced that there is more to the story because we all know that Ty doesn't wake up until 1pm. Anyways, keep writing and posting pictures. We miss you back here.