Marketplace Moments

I recently returned to site after a two-week training on small animal husbandry, village savings and loans associations, and project design and management. While these are a few of my favorite things, what I really want to write home about is my recent shopping trip. Nothing was particularly special about it. In fact, what made it special was returning to something that has become so normal. I attend my local market every four days to buy what necessities I need until the next market day. Each visit proves a great opportunity to practice my local language skills, chit-chat, and think creatively about food and life in Benin.

I was thrilled this past Tuesday to bike the 10-15 minutes it takes to get from my house to the market. While occasionally sandy with sharp lakeside turns, the ride to market brings me along a windy dirt path just above the crests of the lake. The views are breathtaking and quite distracting when I need to navigate turns and oncoming motorcycle traffic. I passed through a few neighborhoods, some where I’m well-known and others where I’m just a frequent passerby. Here’s a taste of the usual banter as I ride:

Local: “Yevɔnu, bolƐ o yi nɔ?” (Foreigner, where are you going?)
Me: “Ko yi hwime nɔ.” (I’m going to market.)
Local: “Bon, mi ya va ooh.” (Good, go and come back.)

If I happen to know the person, or if they feel particularly bold, the conversation might progress with:

Local: “Ele o na hɔ va na?” (What are you going to buy me?)
Me: “Onu hƐna djɔhoun, ko na hɔ va na wƐ.” (Something good, I’ll buy for you.)

When I finally reach the market village, there’s always a group of children there on the outskirts who have dropped all pretense for greetings. Instead, we playfully screech at each other the same refrain as I bike down the line of onlookers:

“Si wƐ dƐ?” (And your wife?)

Which I think is a hilarious way to spin a common greeting, throwing the phrase right back at those 6-year-olds. That’ll show them. The adults have picked up on the joke too and shout it at me as well, though sometimes we do share a few words of genuine greetings.

The west end of the market buts up right against the lake, which you

can see a sliver of here on the left

This Tuesday I stopped right outside the market to look at the beginnings of a new building. It was just a bunch of rubble when I left, but it now has four walls and a burgeoning second story (which is a big deal). I usually stop and chat with a pair of elderly gentlemen who sit across from the new building, but they were out and about that afternoon.

The market itself is not very large, but it’s the only one on this side of Lac Ahémé for 10 kilometers in any direction. It thus attracts a lot of consumers and sellers, some even taking boats from across the lake. The market is comprised of a few avenues of market stalls ranging from walk-in stores full of dry goods to a seller and her single basket of klen klen, fish, or oranges. Some sellers walk around selling the likes of hibiscus juice, shirts, or fried dough. Shops and stands are open air and ubiquitous with most products in their original packaging or thrown together in a container. Most processed food and manufactured goods come from Nigeria, France, or Asia, but most foodstuffs are locally produced. This gives the market an interesting blend of local and global interactions, painting a picture of the kind of local production-consumption cycle many Americans strive for when they shop at farmers’ markets while never relinquishing the market’s position in global supply chains. You can’t have one without the other where I live in Benin, but that’s enough academic analysis for this blog. (If you're interested, though, Charles Piot's Remotely Global would make for a good read.)

I started my shopping outside of the market at La Grace Poissonerie, which is located on the hill overlooking the market and the lake beyond. Appolinaire is the proprietor and has become a friend of mine. He runs the shop all by himself, managing the finances and all the shipments of imported fish. It’s one of the few places with refrigeration near the market, so it’s a prime spot for buying fish, chicken, and other meat. Besides good conversation, Appolinaire also helps me get the small-bill change I need to buy other things on my trip.

 

La Grace Poissonerie and its owner, manager, butcher extraordinaire: Appolinaire

After buying some fish, I moved on to the bustling market where I bought more of my necessities, mainly food. I try to buy from the same seller each time, which is a good idea for a variety of reasons. First, with so many people selling the same thing -be it tomatoes or soap- it makes choosing where to shop easier. It also builds and sustains relationships that are both fun and mutually beneficial. The seller gets a loyal customer, and the consumer gets deals every now and then. Talk about a consumer loyalty program. Whether it’s kindling, fish, rice and beans, tomato paste, or leafy greens and okra, I know exactly where I’m going for each product, which is a relief when the market gets crowdy. People asked me where I was for two weeks and whether I brought them anything. I laughed and said I did, but only if they sell me something just as good.

I shared some banter with a group of women while buying palm oil. They were convinced one of the nearby sellers would make me a perfect wife. I jokingly responded by asking whether she spoke English. She yelled back, “Oui! Oui! I mean… yes!” The women and I laughed, meaning the joke was well-received and we can move on from the topic of marriage (until next time, of course). I then moved on to buy some tofu. There, the woman who sells me manioc shavings and runs a few adjoining stands asked me for the millionth time where my wife is. (Perhaps you’re seeing a trend.) This time I played dumb but to no avail, and the conversation teetered into nervous laughter. You win some, you lose some.

The new, probably multi-story building is on the left 

I crossed off everything on my shopping list and left for home. I bid goodbye to the men outside the new building, mounted my bike, and threw a few “Si wƐ dƐ’s” at the kids while biking by. The views of Lac Ahémé were even more stunning than earlier that day with the approaching sunset and a backpack full of food on my back. I’m lucky to eat well and to have such a resourceful and convivial marketplace so close to home. The market is competitive but also serves as a place where people come together, full of cheer, camaraderie, and friendship. When it comes to bringing home more than just a smile, I can only hope that my food security work contributes to the food and income available at market so that everyone walks away from it even more satisfied.