The Market
These are just a collection of scenery shots I took over the years. (During this actual adventure I did not have a camera.)
One day, out of the blue, Nobesutu asked me to accompany her to the market (I love this word. They always use it.) The pensioners market is a monthly attraction where all the citizens who have children and no job receive their checks from the government. Previously I had noticed this market, but never understood when, or what was going on.
Imagine very small markets like 15 “vendors” selling cloths, produce, and other odds & inns. There was also a truck with the government workers printing out everyone’s tickets & cashing in their checks.
We walked for hours to get to her market in a more remote area I had never been to. Then we waited for hours because she was really hoping to get cabbage, which never ended up arriving. Instead she picked out some clothes for her nephews and a live chicken that we had to carry all the way home. (I did receive wonderful Xhosa lessons. All the ladies were intrigued as to who I was & what I was doing there.)
On the way home, I will never forget asking her what they were going to do with the chicken & she said “I suspect we will eat it tonight for supper.”
When we finally arrived to her home I got to meet her whole family & neighbors. There were cows roaming around, chickens, roosters, plenty of dogs and a donkey tied up out back. Within 5 minutes of being there one of her neighbors had her pocketknife and a bowl. Next she slit the throat and started cleaning out the bird. All 6 of the children were huddled around helping in any possible way.
The next thing I know I am whisked around back & Nobesutu’s sister in law is playing with my hair. Now normally I am cool with anyone touching my hair, even bouncing the curls. BRUSHING MY HAIR IS, HOWEVER, AN ABSOLUTE NO-NO. Plus I had just washed my hair the night before and really did not want her to mess with my mojo. Unfortunately, I was in no condition to argue with this circumstance so I just grinned and bared it.
About 45 minutes later I had my fill. I asked her if she had a mirror to try to distract her and to stop the madness. Take into consideration I had a full day at school, been hiking for hours, just seen a chicken slaughtered and now my hair was being teased and frizzed with no end in sight. Until this point I only had exchanged “how are you?” pleasantries with Sutu’s family, so I did not want to rock the boat or insult her…
After I asked for the mirror she said “Why are you scared?” In perfect English. Hilarious. Then I told her "No, you have no scissors, so there was nothing to fear." She never mentioned she spoke English. Then she told me I had a lot of dandruff. It turns out that she was the village hairdresser. I told her I did not care and no more brushing. I am sure she thought I was crazy but I absolutely hate it when my hair is brushed (unless of course it is for a costume.)
Later on after sunset we feasted on the chicken, yams, and corn. Many of the neighbors came over when they heard that we had fresh chicken. No one left without at least a little piece. It always amazes me how every single piece of the meat is re-used or shared. Even the bowl of blood in the background was being salvaged for a later day.
Unfortunately I did not get one photo of this night since I did not have my camera with me that day. Although it was disappointing, it was almost better. Once I start snapping shots, sometimes, as a "photographer" you loose the authenticity of the moment and under this circumstance it was really nice to just be with her family (frizzy hair and all.)
This is Sutu's parents rondavel. Neighbors all go in and out of each others homes constantly.
There was hardly a morning schedule. School started at 8ish. We had morning time with singing and dancing, numbers, and centers. Then there was a break time, story time, and lunch.
