Come on in…the water’s fine.
You know how when you’re doing something hard- like learning a new language or trying to demystify astrophysics- you feel like you are making no progress at all? It’s not until you are graced with some haphazard epiphany that you can take stock of your efforts and understand that no kidding you really are learning something. I had one of those days yesterday.
I have been
complaining about living in Senegal for the past fifteen months. Really, it’s not bad at all here-I just like to vent whenever something outside the realm of marginally acceptable behavior pops up and I have to deal with it. It’s been awhile though since I have encountered anything too crazy though, and maybe that’s the reason why I willingly asked to accompany some people to one of the most touristy places in Dakar.
Marché Kermel (marché is French for market) is a covered market that sells the standard fare of meat, produce, spices and other miscellany. I am quite certain that I have written about these markets before while visiting other countries. The last time I spent longer than five minutes at Kermel was probably a year ago, on a busy Saturday morning. I was still pretty wide-eyed, and got the added bonus of visiting on a weekend day (this comes complete with extra beggars and chaos). The experience made me vow that this was not a place that I ever needed to frequent again.
Fast-forward to yesterday, and although the afternoon was relatively calm (visiting on a weekday, just as people are in their post-lunch coma), I found it a completely enjoyable experience. I even took some photos to impress or mildly disgust you- here are a couple:
Strawberries are in season! You don’t get these very often….and I never knew how good strawberry juice could taste till I came to Dakar.
You see lots of ads for MSG-type seasoning in this country. This one was posted in the market: an excessively happy woman hovering over a plate of meat and the Senegal’s national rice dish: Buy Tem Tem bouillon…et ton mari t’aime (and your husband will love you). Lord…
You really can get most anything here. I can actually buy fresh tofu at a Chinese guy’s shop just beyond the market.
I would like one skinned sheep, please. How much extra does it cost if you remove the head for me?
You need sixty gazillion eggs? You’ve come to the right spot.
After walking around and haggling with vendors over 100 francs (about 25 cents), I think I made some new “friends”. I also kind of realized that I really have settled into the crazy rhythm of this city. Don’t get me wrong, I still like peace and quiet- but I have definitely learned to distinguish true chaos from the daily friction of this country (“daily friction” – a term coined by the last Dakar Olmsted Scholar).
It’s kind of nice to wander around the market and have vendors come up to you to say hi- because
they actually know you. This happened twice, and my efforts to introduce my group to these people (and have them buy fruits and vegetables from their stalls) resulted in me being given a
cadeau (a mango) for coming by. I saw this kind of generosity while in Morocco too- it just goes to show that life as a resident is totally different than one as a wide-eyed tourist who has only been in town for a short while. Shocking revelation, I know…
The Senegalese are known for their outgoing nature, and this logically extends to the bargaining. We next went to art market, where the vendors had perked up considerably since their lunches of fish and rice. You see a group of white women walking into your shops, and you’ve got a fantastic game of hustle to be played.
I’m pretty good at saying “Hi how are you no thanks I don’t need a carved elephant” all in the same breath. It’s a balancing act between being polite yet firm so they don’t run you into their stall and talk to you in a mix of French and English for twenty solid minutes- after which time you feel obliged to buy something.
This is written above one of the art stalls that we visited. It says, “Here, it is peaceful. No one will bother you. Everything half off.”
I thought it very telling that the vendor felt compelled to write this above his stall. Clearly these guys know that their aggressive sales tactics are not appreciated, but it still kind of continues anyway. We were still beckoned into his shop to look at his things- their version of “tranquille” is the Senegalese version. If I had visited this place a year ago (like I had visited Kermel), I probably would have been driven out of the market without having bought anything. This time around, I think I was more adjusted to the game, and even bought some cool stuff at good prices (even for a toubab).
And I might even go back within the year. What can I say? I’m slow to adapt.
One more thing: there are some things you can’t get at the market. That’s when you have awesome family who comes through for you.
Yesterday could be chalked up as a big win, complete with NESN and free mangoes.
