Sandaga

"Hello my sistah!" I hear a Senegalese man shout at me from across the street. "Howareyoufine?" This phrase comes across in one quick breath as the man attempts to gain my attention. From there, he hurries across, shakes my hand, and demands to know what I'm looking for. Friday I made my last trip to Market Sandaga (alxamdulilaay!). Numerous men like this approached me, offering a tour around the market, to help find whatever goods I was searching for or simply share ataaya. From past experiences I've learned never to take them up on the offer, because this will inevitably end in an extended tour of all their relatives' stores that consumes the entire afternoon and results in no successful purchases.

In the heart of downtown, Sandaga, a triangular, dirty market, is the epitome of disorganized, chaotic waxale (bargaining). The winding, dusty side streets are full of colorful stalls of scarves and socks and bath towels and bootleg mbalax CDs, and tables fill the broken sidewalks displaying tissues and toothpaste and roasted peanuts. Meanwhile women balance enormous buckets full of fish and bananas atop their heads while sidestepping bags of garbage and food waste left in the road, while men offer "special promotions" for phone credits and clog the small open spaces of sidewalk to discuter. The mixture of vehicle exhaust, sand and dust, and sweat leaves me with a grimy feeling in no time. However, anything can be found at Sandaga, provided one has the time and patience to give a good search.

The pre-purchase waxale is culturally appreciated; in fact, many vendors take offense if a buyer agrees to the first suggested price, instead insisting on some witty Wolof banter, several expressions of how kind the other participant is, and a gradual convergence of prices. Usually, I have to pretend to walk away before I can reach the ideal price, but again, this is expected and received lightheartedly. Although fun, each time this is an exhausting performance. Fortunately, I have finished buying all the necessary souvenirs...