Adrie and I knew we had a big day ahead of us when Blessing, the energetic woman who runs the sewing school, told us yesterday that she would like to make us some traditional clothes. She offered to take us to the market and we excitedly agreed. So we slept in a little, tidied up our rooms, headed to the Clinic for a bit, and had lunch before our great adventure.
The marketplace is not very far from our apartment, only about a twenty-minute walk, so Blessing, Adrie, and myself took off down the noisy traffic-filled streets to the central market for this side of town. Now when I think of a market I tend to think of where I went in Mexico City where traders and craftsmen set up in booths for blocks in a sort of central park setting. Jos is very different. The marketplace could easily be its own city. For miles people have taken over small garage-sized rooms in hundreds of two-story buildings. The lanes are so narrow that you have to touch every person who tries to pass and try not to step on the fish or potatoes being sold just outside shop openings. People are yelling out their bartering bids, walking down the aisles trying to sell live chickens that they are holding by the feet, and perfectly balancing large bowls of fruits and vegetables while they do it. It is one of the most overwhelmingly amazing and amazingly overwhelming places I have been.
Blessing knew exactly where the best fabric shop was (conveniently located in the center of the madness) and we walked into a closet with hundreds of colorful pieces of cloth draped along the walls. It was a tough decision but Adrie and I each chose two patterns that we particularly enjoyed and Blessing haggled with the shop-owner in Hausa to get us the best prices. Once we got our bags we felt accomplished and were free to explore the area. Shop after shop of fabric, American clothing, household goods, books, even X-rated videos. There must have been at least a million pairs of sandals being sold. I’m not joking. People gave us hopeful looks and even (literally) tried to pull us into their shops once they noticed the Nigerian woman was towing two white Americans behind her. One man in a shop picked out an entire outfit for me (it was actually really cute) but I had to tell him the truth that I didn’t have enough naira with me to splurge like that. He was very kind and told me to come back another day for a lower price, he just thought it would look nice on me. It was a strange feeling knowing that when people saw us they immediately thought of wealth and prosperity, consumerism and want. I hate to think that the majority of the white people they have seen bring that attitude with them. Blessing bought some groceries and after standing at the butcher’s aisle for a few minutes trying to figure out what parts of the animal were for sale we decided to head home. Crowds, heat, and raw meat make a lethal combination if you attempt to endure it for too long.
We hung out with Kristin and John for a good while back at their apartment (which is directly downstairs from ours) and enjoyed some more “comparison of cultures” chats. Today’s topics ranged from Catholicism in New York to family values and morals in the Church to the story of their wedding. We also talked about food we wished we could find here; Adrie wants pad thai, John wants biscotti, Kristin wants Mexican anything, and I miss my chocolate milk. We all know quite a bit about each other now and enjoy being able to think through and talk about our experiences here and at home.
Biana and Naomi from the Clinic decided tonight would be a great night to take Adrie and I out to dinner at a more formal restaurant called the Net Cafe. Strange name since there are no computers there and they don’t specialize in coffee... It is instead a restaurant/bakery/ice cream parlor. We enjoyed some Nigerian takes on cultural food and enjoyed homemade pasta, fried potatoes, and chicken of various sorts. It was delicious, filling, and allowed for more great conversation. As we were leaving Biana took us to the dessert side to buy Greg some ice cream (since he drives us wherever we need to go) and I studied what they had there; scones, cookies, bread. I looked into the refrigerator next to the cakes and my eyes grew bright. There it was. Staring back at me. My chocolate milk. If only I had Gavin and Joshua Dow here to share it with!
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