To the market!

After changing out money at a rate of US$1 for 1139 TSH (Tanzanian shillings, or shillingi), we headed to Central Market in the city center for our first experience with Tanzanian markets. Central Market is very crowded with narrow walkways and lots of vendors. They sold anything from hardware to clothes to dried fish (fins, eyes and all) and countless fruits and vegetables.

The next market we hit up was an arts market (which pictured above - it was hard to get photos of the markets because taking photos of the people was discouraged by our facilitator, so the shot was not-so-stealthily taken from the back of our Land Rover). You can see the artwork and beaded finery available at the entrance alone, and each vendor had incredibly beautiful work. Some women even had their sewing machines right in the middle of their “booth” and assured us it was free to look around inside. Other women lined the walls of doing intricate Masaai beadwork, and there were lots of cries for “Sister! Sister! It’s free to look, no charge! What, you like to see my tears?” For a nonassertive person like myself, this experience was especially challenging because I felt both uncomfortable and overwhelmed, loving everything I saw yet feeling as if I couldn’t look at it for long in order to avoid shopkeepers’ attention (which is virtually impossible – I’m white, remember?). And any nerves I had about keeping the Kiswahili words for yes (“ndiyo”) and no (“hapana”) straight were soon absolved, as “Hapana, asante sana!” (No, thank you very much) soon became the only thing I said. A few of us ventured to the bathrooms, which appeared to be outhouses like what you find at a public beach but were, in fact, holes in the ground. I’ve never squatted to use the bathroom before – save for deer hunting and occasionally on camping trips – but it looks like public restrooms as we know them might be out of the picture for the next couple of months.

The final market was probably my favorite because it was in a more rural area and more open, which made it feel much less congested and closed in. Most of the vendors were women, unlike the previous two markets, and there were a lot of children there. We bought khangas and kitenges, and I made friends with two young boys who were both eight years old who practiced their English with me and made fun of my Kiswahili. The vegetables were all peeled to perfection and laying out on burlap sacks on the ground while the kangas were folded into these pyramid looking things and set up on sheets of plastic. The kids who were clearly poorer than others approached us quiet frequently, asking, “Wazungu(White people) ? Money?” I could see firsthand how the disposal and waste system here is such a large concern for TZ. Where we were at, everyone just threw their trash on the ground, amounting to huge piles sitting right by the fields. Our bus driver even tossed his carton of juice (which was clearly NOT biodegradable) into the grass, and I almost fainted. I wonder what is or what could be done to amend this. All in all, the whole day was a crazy experience, and one I look forward to becoming more comfortable with in the future.