Hello! My name is Rachel and my grandmother and I have been volunteering at Beacon House for the past month. Ms. Romana has asked me to write a blog post so here is what I wrote after my first visit to the Ghanaian market at Madina. Day 19: April 17, 2010 Well…I have now been to the market. I’ll try to describe my impressions of it as succinctly as possible, but since those impressions were negative, it could be difficult. If they were positive, my post would be far briefer. I always use more words to complain. First, though, I ought to mention that I dislike shopping. Bores me to tears. I should also point out that I can’t stand having people notice me just because I happen to look different (if it is because of some incredible talent of mine, well, that’s another matter). And as a third premise, “cultural experience” is NOT a phrase that excites me in any way.
All of these pet peeves were outraged by the Madina market. After the first two hours or so I sat down with H (one of the girls from Beacon House who came with us to help out) to watch our things because I was so
sick of shopping. There was no escape from it. Stalls, goods, furniture, umbrellas, food, and people were so tightly packed in that you could not stand still for 5 seconds without being in someone’s way. Grandma Judy was almost run over by a huge wooden cart at one point—one of the women who came with us had to pull her out of the way. A little scary, no? And talk about having people notice you! We stood out like brightly colored warts. It seemed like someone was always calling out “Tsssss! Obruni! You buy?” While I was sitting with H, taxis, tro-tros, and people were passing inches away from my nose, and
everyone stared at me with unabashed curiosity. One woman tapped my chin as she passed without saying a word. Another person, a man this time, had a LOT to say in a rather angry tone, none of which I could understand. Oh yes. A very cultural experience, to say the least. Add to that heat, dust, mud, sewage, flies by the hundreds, a headache, baskets of shriveled fish carcasses, a rat in the gutter, and exhaustion, and you can probably imagine how ready I am to go back to Madina.
On the other hand, Grandma Judy had a rather enjoyable time. People, this woman is amazing. She was able to find pretty much everything we needed (a metal bucket, veggies, short tables and stools for the baby house), trekked all over that muddy market, pushing her way through hot crowds of people for upwards of 5 hours, and refused to declare herself tired until we were back in the comfort of our room. Not only that, but she is organized to the point that it annoys me. I can’t whine about it though, because she has saved my bacon too many times (not to mention that I was the one who left my bag behind at the food court in the mall
twice and had to go retrieve it). And there’s no need for you to remind me about cleanliness, Mom, I am watered and soaped and sanitized constantly.
To get back to my story, when it was (finally) time to leave, one of the women and I took most of the groceries and things in one taxi while Grandma Judy, Helen, and the other stayed behind. I will never forget that taxi. The driver’s name, as I learned later, was Stephen. All I know is that Stephen has got to be an angel. Either that or God picked up our car while I wasn’t looking. Because only a
miracle could have turned that vehicle around it what looked to me like an anthill of people walking around us. When the driver was backing up, people would hit the car to let us know when we were about to run over someone. Not to mention that two lanes of traffic (and I am using “lanes” in its loosest sense) were coming toward us head-on as we were turning. I guess at this point I should say it was quite an adventure and I’m glad now I went. It was quite an adventure and I’m glad now I went. There. Happy now? Thank you Lord, for an incredible grandmother to help me find my way through an incredible culture. And thank you for giving us adventures, even when we don’t really want them. ~Rachel~
