In the middle of this this large village market you finally come to what looks like a the ruins of a 3 foot high cement foundation. Not sure why or how it got there but it is the Bead market. Rows and rows and Bead vender's sit at their stall and wait for costumers...especially the white Americans. They are the hard core bargainers trying to sell you their beads. They will tell you all sorts of things to make you think their beads are the best. It was funny going with Tammy because she has been around the African block a few times and knows more about the beads then she looks like she does. They would tell her that they were old ( antique) or something else and she would look at me and say “no their not.” Some people recognized her and and showed her beads they thought she would like but for the most part...all us white folk must look the same to them.
At one point I turned to Ryan to say something and he had completely disappeared. I normally don’t worry to much about my Gandolf of a husband. He has keen sense of direction but we were in uncharted territory and here is this tall white man with a video recorder. It made me a little jittery. When 20 minutes past and he still did not resurface I began to get really scared. About 10 minutes and a little prayer in my heart, he showed up just beaming with pride. He said he filmed these people and they were so happy and he talked with them got it all on tape (come to find out when we got back that he did not have it on record and missed it all. He was so devastated). Well, I bargained my way through the market and came out with some awesome beads. By the time we were done i felt like I had jumped into river with me clothes on. sweat was dripping done my sore back (still sore from the car ride and we still had to drive back). Plus, My clothes were stuck to me showing everyone the bumps and groves I was hiding in the first place. Luckily by this time I knew that African don’t care...they already thought I was too skinny...now come on, ladies. How can I not love Africa!
We got back to the car, tip the security attendant guy. and we were back on the road..sort of. Traffic jam. No one was moving an inch. The Traffic rules in Africa are as follows...
Do not leave any room between you and the car in front.
Crouch or be encroached upon. There you have it folks. Now you can drive in Africa. So Tammy found a tiny crack and nudge her way through and then we were off. ( just a little note here for you boys...and by boys I mean the ones Tammy had. You should be so proud of your mother. I mean she has adapted and boy she knows her way around Africa with out fear. I love her for this. Well, I love her for many reasons but this is defiantly one of them).
At one point I turned to Ryan to say something and he had completely disappeared. I normally don’t worry to much about my Gandolf of a husband. He has keen sense of direction but we were in uncharted territory and here is this tall white man with a video recorder. It made me a little jittery. When 20 minutes past and he still did not resurface I began to get really scared. About 10 minutes and a little prayer in my heart, he showed up just beaming with pride. He said he filmed these people and they were so happy and he talked with them got it all on tape (come to find out when we got back that he did not have it on record and missed it all. He was so devastated). Well, I bargained my way through the market and came out with some awesome beads. By the time we were done i felt like I had jumped into river with me clothes on. sweat was dripping done my sore back (still sore from the car ride and we still had to drive back). Plus, My clothes were stuck to me showing everyone the bumps and groves I was hiding in the first place. Luckily by this time I knew that African don’t care...they already thought I was too skinny...now come on, ladies. How can I not love Africa!
We got back to the car, tip the security attendant guy. and we were back on the road..sort of. Traffic jam. No one was moving an inch. The Traffic rules in Africa are as follows...
Do not leave any room between you and the car in front.
Crouch or be encroached upon. There you have it folks. Now you can drive in Africa. So Tammy found a tiny crack and nudge her way through and then we were off. ( just a little note here for you boys...and by boys I mean the ones Tammy had. You should be so proud of your mother. I mean she has adapted and boy she knows her way around Africa with out fear. I love her for this. Well, I love her for many reasons but this is defiantly one of them).
Next stop on our bead tour was the famous Sedis Bead Factory. And when I say famous I mean famous. The wise and knowing Ebenezer was not even there because he was in Vegas at a bead show or something. He had been all over the world because of his bead making skills. His brother walked us step by step through the bead making process. It was painstaking, so much so that I am too lazy to even type it but Ryan recorded it all (yes, it actually recorded) and you can watch it when I figure out how to get it loaded up on here. Plus, it more of an experiences to try and figure out what he i saying. you kind of have to concentrate hard on their words for a few minutes until your brain gets use to the dialect. Then I bought beads and a cute bowl made out of...you guessed it dirt and termite secretions and we drove home. A funny note...When we passed the lady with the sewing machine, she had gotten a lot done and it was a wedding dress.
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