Change and Yellow Pompoms

Here are just a series of small things that make up my daily life here- observations and descriptions:

*The other day a 5-year-old did my dishes- and she did them cheerfully, without my asking her! Now tell me that would happen in the States.

*Acacia trees (acacia nilotica to be specific) have little yellow flowers that are blooming currently. They are fluffy little balls that look like from something Dr. Seuss or little pompoms cheering as you bike past, "You can do it! You can make it through 8 months with no rain!"

*Climbing onto a crowded African public transport is decidedly like a giant game of Twister: over the baby nursing, under the lady hefting a rice sack, past an old woman with sharp elbows who really wants your seat, next to the man holding upside down chickens, beneath the window with the goat feet hanging from the roof . . . regrets: sitting in the seat beneath an open window. . yes, baptism by goat pee. . I think I quit.

*A trip to the market takes strategic planning. One must have just the right change at just the right time or the whole thing falls apart and every vendor looks at you with a pitying face and tells you it is impossible. To avoid this sad dilemma where even five vendors down an errand boy can still not find you change, one much begin at the right place. First, to the boutique where one can break the 10 mille (about $20) that the bank always give (despite that one rarely buys anything for such a large denomination). There one might buy phone minutes to call the states and a kilo of flour. You may wait patiently at the counter here hoping vainly for a line, only to be cut by several women buying soap and a man filling a bottle with oil. Then to the tailor's where he tells you your skirt from four weeks ago is still not done and it is said with a sheepish smile that 'Won't you just come back later today? It will be done then'. Right.

Next to the "queen of the market" or 'tanti' (aunty) as we call her, to buy some peanut butter in a jar I hand her. She scoops it out of a big metal bucket (it once had paint in it perhaps?) that site in front of the scale filled with dried fish pieces that seem to consist mostly of bones and skin. Perhaps I can buy some for my cat. . . Tanti can break your 2 mille ($4) if you smile nicely. Next it's too the jumbled "house wears" a few straw stalls over to haggle for a new wash bucket. . Walk away several times when he refuses to lower the price. He can make change for your 500 ($1) (and no I won't marry you).

Now is the crucial moment- armed with change one can finally turn to the produce ladies with overflowing baskets of red onions, shining tomatoes, funny dried flowers and plants, and even summer squash and dark plumb eggplants. The questions remain- will you find green beans today? Will the tomatoes be green or mushy? You carefully choose your piles and sweetly smile when you really want to buy 2 roots of ginger not 15, please. The woman sighs a little and makes change with the women 6 stalls down. Maybe she even gives you a 'cadeau' a gift of something extra- maybe another three tomatoes plucked from her stockpile just for you.

Lastly, as the dust picks up and the sun begins to feels as if it is searing the skin on your neck, you swing by 'electronics' just to browse, while you try to remember those last things on your shopping list (market is only every 5 days, you know). You wonder at the various piles of mystery cords and dangerous-looking batteries sitting beside stacks of 'chinois' electronics, lantern lights and cosmetic creams from Japan. You turn back at the honey selling table with its molasses-like product and on the way out you say hello to the banana lady and buy one out of habit. Finally, you walk out the frialator aisle with women frying fish and fritters and keep an eye out for the frozen drink-selling girl who just might have the hibiscus juice you have been dreaming of, and yes, you do have the 25 piece to pay for it. Happiness is in exact change.