Today we went to
Kumasi Central Market, the largest open-air market in all of west
Africa. To make sure we wouldn't get lost in the carnage of people,
Chris and Tammi asked an old friend of theirs to guide us through the
stalls. After a bit of a wait, our guide Comfort arrived via Tro-tro
-a rickety-ass van service used throughout Ghana to ferry people
around at cheap prices by packing them in like sardines. Accompanied
by her daughter Amanda and her niece Mary, Comfort greeted us warmly
before flagging down another Tro-tro, and we all climbed in.
Chris and Tammi had
told us stories about how “reliable” the Tros were, but our first
venture in them was surprisingly uneventful. Soon, we arrived outside
the market, already in the full swing of business hours. We climbed a
steep flight of stairs and looked out across a sea of rooftops; the
market went on and on to the edge of the horizon! Comfort told us
that the market was divided into sections: fabrics, beads, foods,
spices, and numerous others (one of our favorites was the candy shop
where we all tried a questionably fluorescent fuscia sucker that
turned our teeth neon pink!) There was even a section devoted to
voodoo items. We descended the stairs and entered the market proper,
Comfort our guide as we wove through the narrow lanes, between people
carrying their purchases on their heads, and around a medley of
aromas that we were told not to mention, both to the vendors and
here.
After a couple
hours in which many Cedi were spent, we finally emerged from the
market and boarded another Tro (this one about up to the standards
that we were lead to believe), heading to a restaurant called
“Jofel”. We all sighed as cool air washed over us; the market had
been hot, with little air to soothe our bones. We settled in and
placed our orders, which arrived anywhere between a half hour to
forever later. Ghana-Maybe-Time applies to the food service as well
as to every other aspect of life; people here are not prone to worry
about the small things and take their time with all things.
Once we were all
finally fed, we met up with our bus drivers and headed off to a
brass-casting demonstration, in the part of town Comfort, her
daughter and her niece called home. The whole drive there, Mary and
Nikolai were silent chatterboxes; Mary is completely deaf, and uses
sign language to make her thoughts known. We arrived at the
brass-caster's workshop, where we were treated to a demonstration of
all the steps it takes to create a brass sculpture; from forming it
in wax and covering it in a charcoal/clay mixture, to creating the
funnels the molten brass would flow into, to how to properly position
the completed mold so that the hot coals can be most effective around
them. The workers were all highly skilled in their art, as was seen
by the vast amount of sculptures they had for sale, which they all
offered with varying degrees of intensity to us in exchange for our
Cedis.
Finally, we managed
to extract ourselves from their grip and departed, saying farewells
to Comfort as we left, who was all smiles and laughter from the
moment we met her to the end of our tour. Weary, we returned to the
hotel, where blessed hot showers awaited us, as well as another
dinner of Fufu and Palm-Nut soup, which was unanimously decided
wasn't quite as good as the ground-nut soup. Sated, we settled down
for the night, ready to face whatever comes tomorrow.
-Sarah and Aaron
