The Market

Wednesday, August 25

After another successful day collecting infant saliva, Ruthfirst, Elizabeth, and I went to the Market. Since it was the big market day here in Kpong, the streets were packed with people selling everything you can think of, what a fun experience! We went with a shopping list for all the ingredients for a Ghanaian meal that Ruthfirst was going to teach me how to make. The three of us walked along stopping occasionally to get tomatoes, onions, hot peppers, cocoyam, plantains, palm oil (poured into a baggie from plastic containers that look like they should be used for a spare gallon of gasoline), and other interesting and colorful ingredients. I can hardly describe everything! There were covered stalls in (mostly) ordered rows that seemed to be splashed with color and bursting with activity. There were many women (and kids) scattered amongst the crowd with bundles or bowls in various sizes balanced on top of their heads. There was an abundance of seasoned and dried fish laid out on tables or even on a flat board carried on top of a girl’s head. There were several butchers ready to cut up the meat that was, in some cases, spread right out on the table. Some of the stalls had big bowls filled with grains, rice or corn meal. In one such stall two little kids were grabbing handfuls of the corn meal (?) and stuffing it in their mouths, or they were before their mother caught them. There were also carts being pulled through the market. The carts would come barreling through as everyone would quickly jump out of the way. After one such cart had gone past, Ruthfirst leaned over and translated the comment that was shouted: “Watch out! Don’t hit the white lady, they don’t have carts in her town!” I laughed pretty hard at that one!

My mom told me that during her boat trip she would occasionally stop, close her eyes and take a deep breath in. She would try to really experience the moment and commit it to her memory. While Ruthfirst and Elizabeth were picking out cocoyam, I stopped in the middle of the market and thought about what a crazy and cool experience this is and how I didn’t want to forget it. I closed my eyes and, while everything continued in motion around me, I took a deep breath in. I heard dozens of voices, the sounds of carts and people shouting, the noise of exchanging goods and bargaining. As I breathed in I could smell onions, a faint smell of peppers and fish. Even if the rest of the market becomes a blurred memory, I hope that I will be able to remember that moment exactly as I imprinted it in my memory.

That evening, Ruthfirst, Naadu, and I started cooking. It was really fun working with food that I’ve mostly never seen before. Ruthfirst was a good teacher and, although I don’t think I would be able to recreate the dish, I learned a lot about Ghanaian cooking. By the time we were finished the kitchen was at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the already toasty house and I felt like I needed a shower! We finished up the night by gathering a few of the other girls who live in the house and all eating and watching a movie together.