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| Last week during market day they killed a cow outside of my bedroom window |
January 14, 2011
In Mali I frequently find myself wondering "what day is it?" The work week, Monday- Friday does not exist here (or at lease in the villages it doesn't) the same way it does in The States. The only day that I can rely on to keep me grounded with some concept of the passing time is Friday.
Friday is market day in Samene. Each week with out fail I am woken up by the bustling of activity in the town center which is located adjacent to my house. Vendors from near by villages ride in on donkey carts lugging everything from watermelons to fabric to repaired (and sometimes still broken) radios.
Although these vendors are looking to sell, Friday is also a time for socializing.
In addition to being market day Friday is also the main prayer day for Muslims. Meaning all the villagers don their finest clothes and when prayer call blares out mid-afternoon they all flock to the mosques and pray in unison, moving fluidly and in sync from standing to kneeling and back again.
Only after this is done does market day truly get underway. Women carry pots into the square and set them up to cook. The sounds and smells of hot oil crackling waft through the air. Men sit and chat in small groups while drinking tea and buy from the women who carry buckets on their heads filled with fruits, juices, fish and various fried foods.
By far, Friday is my favorite day in village whether I am sitting with the mend drinking tea or helping a fried cook farni (fried dough balls-- almost like doughnut if you have lived here long enough and have a wonderful imagination) I always know that I will have a good day.
In Mali I frequently find myself wondering "what day is it?" The work week, Monday- Friday does not exist here (or at lease in the villages it doesn't) the same way it does in The States. The only day that I can rely on to keep me grounded with some concept of the passing time is Friday.
Friday is market day in Samene. Each week with out fail I am woken up by the bustling of activity in the town center which is located adjacent to my house. Vendors from near by villages ride in on donkey carts lugging everything from watermelons to fabric to repaired (and sometimes still broken) radios.
Although these vendors are looking to sell, Friday is also a time for socializing.
In addition to being market day Friday is also the main prayer day for Muslims. Meaning all the villagers don their finest clothes and when prayer call blares out mid-afternoon they all flock to the mosques and pray in unison, moving fluidly and in sync from standing to kneeling and back again.
Only after this is done does market day truly get underway. Women carry pots into the square and set them up to cook. The sounds and smells of hot oil crackling waft through the air. Men sit and chat in small groups while drinking tea and buy from the women who carry buckets on their heads filled with fruits, juices, fish and various fried foods.
By far, Friday is my favorite day in village whether I am sitting with the mend drinking tea or helping a fried cook farni (fried dough balls-- almost like doughnut if you have lived here long enough and have a wonderful imagination) I always know that I will have a good day.
