Night time at the market

Last night, Andy and I once again embarked on what has become a seasonal tradition. Strolling around the market at night. The scene always fascinates me and last night there was added magic because the moon was so full casting a bright white glow on everything. We usually start off going through one of the dark neighborhood streets before popping up on the main drag. The air is still cool at night and even last night Andy said he wished he had brought his long sleeve shirt. Our feet pushed and propelled us through various depths of sand. "It's like being at the beach everywhere you go!" While walking we cross paths with people out and about and they don't notice the color of our skin. Ahhhh. We are somewhat incognito.
We approach the first street to turn into the dense area of the market. Most shops are closed. Empty wooden skeletons where goods are usually dripping from it line the sidewalks. Goods are carefully placed at the days beginning and removed at night, each and every day. Painted metal doors secured with heavy chains and padlocks. Cats, dogs and some people scour underneath the empty vegetable stands.
As we walk along this section my primary focus is to avoid stepping in the rubbish piles in the gutters. Everything from bits of cloth, rotten vegetables, and sheep horns can be found in the mystery piles.
I glance up as I hop on the curb and see the largest fabric shop in the market still lit. The doors are half closed but through one door I see the piles and piles of every kind and color of fabric. A man behind the counter flips up a long piece of golden fabric making it snap before letting it float back down.

We keep walking.

We round the first bend in the market. This is always the best place to see and hear Brikama’s bats. Mangoes are on the trees so they are in happily making noise, sweeping between the towering mango trees.

The clouds cross over the moon casting shadows on the sheep sleeping on the sidewalk. Their white coats contrast with their chosen sleeping place, the charcoal vendors’ area. During the day about 10 vendors sit spaced out along this sidewalk are with piles of charcoal displayed in front of them. Their children are always the most pitiful looking just because of the charcoal smudges they get all over their bodies as they play near their mothers. Now the sheep will surely have these smudges too.
We approach one stall that has a crowd gathering outside it. They are all staring at a small TV set mounted on the shelves amongst the wares.

We keep walking.

A lone donkey is pushing his nose through a pile of trash in the gutter. Every time I see a donkey I always think the exact situation it is in at that moment makes it seem so melancholy. Eeyore.
We approach the next corner and turn left. There are two tailor shops open. The men busy, bent over their work, their machines zipping along. They often work through the night, especially if there are approaching special occasions. Right next to the tailor shops is a sort of "tailor supply store" with lengths of colorful ribbons hanging from the walls and spools of thread in every color lining its shelves. Turning once again we approach a small taxi car park area, which, like most carparks here, is actually just a stretch of dirt road where all the taxis park and wait for customers. Even at night it is still bustling.

We keep walking.

We approach a friend’s stall to say hello and I grab a small boiled potato and egg from a lady nearby. Vendors along the sidewalk sell things like sandwiches (tapalapa), bananas, peanuts (groundnuts), and right now...cashews! They light their stands using make-shift lanterns made from various things like old plastic bottles with a candle inside keeping it in place with sand. To protect it from the wind they add a little scavenged clear plastic packaging. The glow is cast across their wares sometimes disguising the flaws in their bananas or the bruises on their apples.
Grilled meat vendors are also present. Subsidized chicken, grilled, then topped with a heavy dousing of mustard, mayo, and raw onions, all wrapped up in a foil package, to go.
We stop and buy some of the best and biggest cashews we have had so far this season. We are almost home when Andy contemplates out loud whether or not he should splurge on some fire grilled goat meat. He says, nah, and we pass the vendor. A few meters pass by and he slows down, stops and turns back around, no doubt thinking about his constant pursuit of more protein.
The vendor cuts up a piece of meat on a square of cement bag paper and asks Andy what accoutrement he wants. Jumbo (msg bouillon) ? Canno (hot pepper)? Pobaro (black pepper)? To which Andy says yes to all. The vendor wraps up the package in another piece of brown paper because the grease has made it translucent, twists them both up tight and hands it to a grinning Andy.
One last stop at the bitiki that sells a slightly varied type of bread and we are home.
The compound is quiet and we go inside the house to feast on our fresh market snacks.