More Market Stories
We went to Lekke market again last weekend. It gets more interesting each time. The boys that fight for the right to be your 'guard' for the day are all named after apostles and saints as far as I can tell. John, Paul, Michael, Matthew.... I chose John and Paul. Why? They smiled the most. Silly reason but I had to pick and that seemed like a pretty good reason at the time. Of course the other 50 boys were upset - it is how they make their living and my rejection meant a possibility of no money that day. It's hard to watch. So I overpaid my boys like crazy. They only ask for about $2 each. They got $5 each. That is food for a week. I'll have to go back this weekend.
We had a good time shopping though. Haggling is an art and I am not too bad at it. Now that we have been here a few months, the sellers know me and we enjoy good natured haggling. They know a little about me, I know a little about them and we use that knowledge against one another. I got great oranges and tangerines this week. That was the first time they were available in the market. Corn on the cob was available, too. It turned out to be a bad buy but that's ok. It's a bargaining chip in my favour for the next time.
I looked at art this week. There are tons of tourist quality art and little real art. But I found one painting in shades of grey. It is an African woman in a big sunhat. Lovely. The artist was thrilled I was looking at it but unsure as to why. It isn't what tourists want. Of course, I am no longer a tourist anywhere. All these years out of my own country and I feel like I don't really belong anywhere. But I am not a tourist anywhere either. I live here. For now. And I will go back for that painting. The artist needs the encouragement to follow his own talent and not just serve others ideas of what his talent is. My daughter, who is an artist herself, taught me that even if she doesn't realize it. I'll post a photo of the painting if I do purchase it.
There is a young boy at the market. He can't be more than 6 or 7 years old. He has the most amazing smile I have ever seen. He carries a tray of eggs and bottled drinks on his head and always wants me to buy something. Hot eggs and drinks are not on my list. But he never stops smiling, genuinely smiling. You know, the kind where the smile is in your eyes as well as on your face. Life has to be incredibly hard for him. But still. He smiles. I always slip him about a $1. Not much but enough for something to eat. I think his smile is worth $100 but am afraid that amount of money would cost him his life. So I give $1 and he smiles and we share a moment every time I see him. I wonder if he will ever know how much hope he gives me?
We had a good time shopping though. Haggling is an art and I am not too bad at it. Now that we have been here a few months, the sellers know me and we enjoy good natured haggling. They know a little about me, I know a little about them and we use that knowledge against one another. I got great oranges and tangerines this week. That was the first time they were available in the market. Corn on the cob was available, too. It turned out to be a bad buy but that's ok. It's a bargaining chip in my favour for the next time.
I looked at art this week. There are tons of tourist quality art and little real art. But I found one painting in shades of grey. It is an African woman in a big sunhat. Lovely. The artist was thrilled I was looking at it but unsure as to why. It isn't what tourists want. Of course, I am no longer a tourist anywhere. All these years out of my own country and I feel like I don't really belong anywhere. But I am not a tourist anywhere either. I live here. For now. And I will go back for that painting. The artist needs the encouragement to follow his own talent and not just serve others ideas of what his talent is. My daughter, who is an artist herself, taught me that even if she doesn't realize it. I'll post a photo of the painting if I do purchase it.
There is a young boy at the market. He can't be more than 6 or 7 years old. He has the most amazing smile I have ever seen. He carries a tray of eggs and bottled drinks on his head and always wants me to buy something. Hot eggs and drinks are not on my list. But he never stops smiling, genuinely smiling. You know, the kind where the smile is in your eyes as well as on your face. Life has to be incredibly hard for him. But still. He smiles. I always slip him about a $1. Not much but enough for something to eat. I think his smile is worth $100 but am afraid that amount of money would cost him his life. So I give $1 and he smiles and we share a moment every time I see him. I wonder if he will ever know how much hope he gives me?
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