Mwenge Market

One of my first experiences of Dar was my stroll over to Mwenge market. In the blazing heat before I had managed to acclimatise, I arrived at some artisan stalls where they were selling carved wooden figures, fabrics, paintings and beaded jewellery. The stall holders were on too much of a hard sell, I felt I couldn't even look things without having them pressed into my hands. It was too much hassle, I wanted to just take it all in. I decided to get away from them and continued on to the real local part of the market. Picking my way through the crowded streets, crossing from road to shop over small wooden planks bridging the large ditches lining the streets to cope with the frequent high level of rain. There was a lot of stuff on offer - shoes, bags, fruit and veg, clothes, household items. There was so much going on, but I was exacerbated by the heat, I had to give up and go back.

Finally we returned to have another scout through what these crowded roads and streets have to offer. I was looking for some khangas and earrings to send home as gifts and just to soak up the amosphere of the market once more. It was a Saturday morning but reasonably early so some stall holders were just beginning to lay out their merchandise. We went into streets behind streets, I would have never imagined to be there. Hoards of shoes and bags hidden behind the main drag with its constant stream of people, cars and buses all fighting their way through the throng. Personal space here is not exactly a notion many people have grasped, you get knocked about a lot, people skim your sides to get past even when there is plenty of room, its odd.

It was overwhelming just how much was on sale in such tight spaces. And in sheltered courtyards, lined with shops women were sat around braiding hair. One woman was surrounded by three Masai men having her hair done. They were greeting me and talking at me in Swahili, I just flashed smiles around the place in return. I thought it was unique that a tourist had found herself in the thick of this market, but as we were leaving to go and sit down to a nice refreshing drink, I saw another mzungu woman. She was alone, unescorted. All my feelings of pride for being an intrepid and exotic traveler, fearlessly roaming the busy and bustling local market streets unperturbed by the bemused stares suddenly drained away.

It's a shame we don't have proper markets. Or if we do, it's because out immigrant communities have reintroduced them. Uncovering aladdin's caves and bartering makes a nice change from your standard high street, chain store retail experience. The again, sitting down after being baked by the sun, battered by the mob, exhausted by the dizzying amount of people was a welcome and satisfying end to the morning.