MARKETS

Guidebooks for Mali list market days in their descriptions of towns and villages, for these are days when quiet little towns burst to life. Market areas are clusters of ramshackle stalls with low roofs made of woven mats, thatch or pieces of tin. On non-market day these stalls are empty and skeletal, visited only by stray dogs, goats and donkeys. But on market days they are filled with sounds, color and smells.

Merchants, most of whom are women, set up their wares in each stall - either on a small table or spread out on the ground. Most stalls only have a few items - a pile of sweet potatoes and some onions, oranges carefully stacked in pyramids, bowls of various spices, salt, and bay leaves. There does not seem to be any sense of competition; 5 or more women will sit side by side selling exactly the same thing.

Shopping for groceries involves weaving, squeezing through the narrow aisles, past smells of frying fish, of freshly butchered meat, of tomatoes slowly rotting in the sun, and of freshly ground peanuts. Like the merchants, most of the shoppers are women and they carry plastic buckets in which they place their purchases, buying a few items here, a few items there. Unlike other purchases, grocery shopping doesn't involve bartering and prices, though unmarked, are relatively fixed. Items are also purchased by price: I've learned to not ask for 2 bananas, but rather for 50 Francs worth (the same thing). I can also buy 50 Francs worth of tomato paste instead of buying a whole tin, or 50 Francs of ground peanuts - which makes a very tasty peanutbutter-like sandwich when spread on a baguette.

Some of the stalls offering basic staples are open every morning of the week - but their wares are few and the vegetables limp. It is on market days that the vegetables are fresh and when you can find everything : colorful pagnes (bolts of cloths for wrap around skirts); small teapots for making strong, green tea; fruit that's in season; plastic shoes; bright jewelry; wooden bowls and spoons; etc... The list is endless, as seems to be the maze of stalls when you find yourself in the middle and don't know which way is out! When I was in Bamako I visited a 'toubab' supermarket - neon-lit aisles of expensive imports from Europe. It all seemed so impersonal, so bland compared to the clustered stalls where every purchase involves an exchange of words, of smiles, a few coins trading hands.