My Market

I think that perhaps the most important thing I got out of being sick is the realization that I am creating that community I so long for. Yesterday was a market day. I was still feeling pretty crappy but I was going stir crazy, I had no food and I just love market days, so I headed into town. On the way in, I ran into Hilda and her sister who were just so excited to see me as they hadn’t seen me in a week or so. A few weeks ago I befriended their family and they have been good to me (although I do think I might have been a little disrespectful in a religious debate with their uncle, but that’s for another day)Anyhow, I apologized for not coming around and explained that I had been sick-they get really concerned and apologize for not coming to visit me. They also chastised me for not telling them and insist that next time I call them so that they can come take care of me. I continue to the market. I start with the second hand clothes market so I don’t drop all my fruits and vegs while bent over a pile of old t-shirts. I hear “MWANAFUNZI RACHEL” ahhh, mwalimu! Its one of the shop keeps I joke around with-he says he missed me at Tuesdays market. We chat some more until I cant think of anything more to say and I move on down the row to greet some of the other shop keeps and bargain for some cool shit and get my way! [One of the main reasons I love markets is I love winning the battle of the bargain!] I go about 3 steps into the food/produce market and run into Mama Rachel (people here re-name themselves after their first born) ‘you have been soo lost’ she says-I usually hate it when people say this to me as it plays on my insecurity of actually appearing like a lost tourist-but today I accept the sentiment (Kenyan English for-I haven’t seen you in a while). She insists I go visit her husband and I do as I was already headed there. Mama Rachel and her husband Vincent were possibly the first friends I have made here. They are maybe 40 or 50 and sell produce on the ground -everyday same spot. They have taken me in. I see them almost everyday and they check up on me. When I get to where Vincent sits he was so concerned about me, he said all week he was worried and had no way to contact me. He gives me some rockin oranges (that rival California’s!) and tries to give me the potatoes too, but I insist on paying for them and remind him for the 5^th time that if he is going to give me something, he has to also allow me to buy something. So then he gives me twice as much as I want and tells me to pay him 5 bob, I give him 20. He’s my favorite, just truly genuine and caring. Final stop is Prucella –she too has missed me. She likes me, I don’t know why. She was the first vendor to gift me something (mangos!) and so I go back to her each market day. She always tries to overcharge me for her fruit, so I always only buy garlic-we might play this game for 2 years! I see Joy (from VYF) we talk about Ramadan and this past week we have missed together. [The other reason I love market days - I get to see friends, make friends, talk with people, learn from people, speak Kiswahili and get delicious fruit!] I’m exhausted but need eggs and bread from the supermarket. I go see Jayesh, he owns one of the supers and generally looks out for us. Every week he holds a curry dinner with a bunch of his friends – old Indian men- and whatever foreign volunteers happen to be around. We eat great homemade Indian food and drink beer for about $6. It’s a treat, anyhow, he tells me I look like shit and that I have lost too much weight (I always hate being told I look like shit when I already feel it!) I joke that I haven’t really lost weight I only cut my hair off. He is concerned that I am so sick and says he’ll have his wife make me chicken soup and tells me to always call if I need anything. The soup got me. When I’m really sick in the states my mom always brought me matzo ball soup. I felt a bit at home. I leave to go home and run into my favorite street boy Emmanuel who I haven’t seen in 2 weeks or so. I buy him bananas and we talk. This kid is struggling-he’s wearing this school uniform that looks as though it has been repeatedly splattered with muddy water-but he’s trying-his smile takes over his face and he has the kindest most innocent eyes for a boy who has seen too much in his 10 years. Shamefully, I think I like him so much because he reminds me of Sampson-one of my boys from Malawi. All this is to say I’m finding it here. It may not look like what I expected-but I’m building a community of people who I care for and who care for me, to share with and learn from. After yesterday I fell looked after and feel as though maybe Voi can be my home-eventually.