Stinky, Dirty, White Girls

After working 62 hours in 6 days, I was ready for a little down time. Although I wanted nothing more than to sleep for days, I mustered up the energy for a small adventure. The plan was to go to the market. In any developed country, a trip to the market is not normally considered an adventure, but in Africa, everything is an adventure! My friend Tina and I filled our water bottles, donned our sun cream (Irish term for sunscreen), carefully stowed our spending money in our bags, and set out for the day. The idea was to take a taxi to Water Side, a market known to have beautiful African fabric and fun wheelbarrows to shop from. We left the ship early in the morning; hoping to avoid the heat and competition for a taxi. We reached the main road and hoped for a taxi, considering we had only been outside for 10 minutes and the sweat was already forming droplets above our lips. It is hot here and there was no chance we wanted to walk the 45 minutes-1 hour that it would take to reach the market. Taxi after taxi rushed past us as we held our pathetic, little, white, fingers in the air, pointing to the direction we wished to go. Finally, it was decided we should walk father down the road to where more taxis gather. No luck; overfilled taxis continue to whizz past us. Jokingly, I suggest we ask a little man with a wheelbarrow if he would push us to the market. People here are more than willing to do anything for money. Besides my buddy and I weigh less than the weight of the bricks, concrete, steel, or lumbar that the men here normally push. We keep walking with the hopes that eventually we will find a taxi. At this point, the sun is scorching and there is absolutely no shade in site. The road I am walking on does not have sidewalks. I weave my way around huge potholes, piles of garbage, poop, and wheelbarrows. To my left, there is a two lane road, with about 5 lanes of traffic in it. Everyone makes their own path. I hope I don’t get sideswiped on my quest for an adventure. I stop and drink almost a gallon of water in one gulp. Momentarily refreshed, we carry on. Everyone in town is starring at the two white girls walking down the street. It makes me feel awkward. I hate feeling awkward, so I smile, wave, and say, “How you be? Or “How d’ body be?,” typical Liberian greetings. The hard stares disappear and I’ve made new friends. One hour later, I am thoroughly drenched with sweat, but I have reached the market. Holy cow it is hot! Can it really be November? Exhausted and almost out of water; let the shopping begin! We wander around street after street, stopping to look at fabric, and all the other interesting items for sale. One man yells, “white woman, come here, for you, I make good offer, guaranteed quality here.” As he tries to sell me previously worn shoes that were shipped from American and were supposed to be handed out for free to the needy people here. Another man shouts at my friend, “I want to marry you! Carry me to America!” My friend and I cannot help but giggle and she says, “Sorry-oh, I’m Canadian!” He is quick to reply, “Okay, carry me to Canada!” We laugh and keep walking. Hour after hour passes as we wander the market streets. We are thoroughly parched and look for something safe to drink. We spy a little umbrella on the street corner with a cooler in its shade. We hope it has cold, sealed, drinks inside. Although, anything wet at this point would be divine! To my great surprise, there is not only soda, but juice for sale! Juice is hard to come by here. I purchased two 100% pure Minute Maid orange juices. Oh, how exquisite it tasted! I haven’t had proper orange juice since April and my thirst is now quenched! More shopping! Behind me on the street there is loud music blaring. The sound quality from speakers on a moving wheelbarrow is impressive! When I can finally decipher the words from all the other market noise, I recognize the song as one of my favourite African tunes! I decide to barter with the mobile DJ for a CD. I must have a copy of my favorite music to play for all my friends at home! While the wheelbarrow driver is playing me different selections from the album, my buddy and I attempt to dance along with the music. A small crowd forms and the locals laugh and laugh at the attempt of white girls trying to dance. I’ve got no rhythm! A deal was sealed and I walk away content with my new purchase, just hoping the CD actually works. A few more hours have passed and we are feeling hungry. We stop a woman with bananas on her head and purchase two for about 20 cents. My buddy quickly peels her banana and is ready to take a bit when I accidently bump her arm, causing her to drop it onto the street! She was so sad! No five second rule here. A police man watched the entire exchange and quickly stopped the banana lady and said, “Two more bananas for the ladies, on me.” I cannot say I have ever had a man buy me bananas before. I was touched! We thanked him and he thanked us for our work with the Mercy Ship. Very few white people hang out in Liberia, therefore, he had a pretty good guess that we were with the ship. Satisfied with our little snack, we keep wandering around the market. We were looking at some beautiful fabric pieces for an African outfit, when an elegant African lady stopped at the fabric booth down the row from where I was standing. She was wearing a very unique, stunning dress. I have been here for almost 8 months and I have never seen such a dress. She caught me starring at her, so I quickly explained that I was admiring her dress. She proudly told me she made it and went on the say she was a seamstress and had a shop just around the corner. She promptly offered to sew a dress for me and invited me to see where her shop was so I could come for measurements; after purchasing fabric. I asked how far her shop was, she assured me, “not far, just around the corner.” That was my first mistake. In Africa, you should never ask how far something is in distance, but rather in how long it takes to get there. “Just around the corner,” turned out to be a good 45 minutes walk. Yikes! I should have worn better shoes! She had a very nice little shop and I told her she may see me in the future. We have been out in the sun for about 6 hours now. I cannot believe how much time I can spend in the market, especially when there is not much to buy and I don’t have any money. We decided to look in a few more fabric stores and then head back to the ship. We stepped into a store that had a fan running on a generator; we pretended to be looking at the items for sale, while catching a few cool blasts of air from the fan. I was more subtle about my intentions in the store than my friend and the store owner abruptly told her she would have to pay for the use of his fan. We went on our way. We ducked into a Lebanese owned fabric warehouse. The temperature inside this room was intense. My friend told the store owner he needed a fan. He said he would love one, but then all the street folk would gather around his fan and not buy anything. Smart man! The man made small talk while we looked at his fabric and he asked if we wanted something to drink. I was slightly confused by his offer considering he sells fabric and there certainly wasn’t a vending machine in the corner of his store. We attempted to decline his offer, but the dried grooves of pre-dehydration on my tongue spoke up. Next thing I knew, a little black man from behind the fabric piles ran out into the market and returned with two ice cold Sprites. Wow, what an incredible day! I haven’t had a man buy me dinner, or anything like that for about 10 years, and in one day a free banana and a Sprite! I was blessed by the kindness of the shop owner and police man. It was like God was smiling down on me, he didn’t answer my prayer for a cool breeze or clouds in the sky, but he knew my hearts cry was to feel refreshed and he provided for me in different ways. Time to go home, but there was a small, small problem; the need for a taxi. I was certain my legs would not carry me back to the ship. Tina and I stood on the street side and began the waiting process for a taxi. We laughed out of pure exhaustion at our pathetic state. We looked horrible and didn’t smell much better! We weren’t getting anywhere and it was getting late and we didn’t want to miss dinner on the ship! Thankfully, a police man, different from the banana police man, came to help us get a cab. He wasn’t having much success at first, but then he flagged down a private vehicle and the driver agreed to drive us to the ship. We made the 7 minute drive to the ship and I asked the man how much we owed him. He declined my money offer and thanked us for our hard work for the Liberian people. I felt I owed him something for his generosity, so I offered him my shiny, red apple. He quickly accepted my payment and drove off. We were stinky, sweaty, thirsty, hungry, and dirty, but home. What a day!