Tammy has been so excited about these beads since she first stepped onto African soil. When she brought back boxes the first time she came home to visit...I must say, I was hooked. So I was pretty excited to see how this was all done. We first stopped by a place called TK beads. I guess they had recently landscape the yard and remodeled one of the buildings into a shop. It this was my favorite place we would go to because of the great selection of colors and beads to choose from. I was overwhelmed here because I wanted it all. They had tons of purple and greens. Their painted beads were a little different then I had seen before as well so I had lots of fun. I filled my basket but fearing I would love the other places just as much I put some stuff back so I would still have enough money. If you see what you like in Africa...get it. You won’t see it again. You don’t really have the luxury of shopping around. The sweet girl there gave a quick tour of everything and explained how they do their beads. There was a small boy Washing the beads on a rock. When Ryan went to take his picture he got nervous and told Ryan “no”. When we got back to the car I looked at Ryan pictures and he had snapped one anyway when the boy was not looking. I wondered why this boy was so nervous...maybe he had run away or something. It was not the usually “ No’ we had been getting from others who did not want to be our photographic subjects.
The funniest sight was when we passed this huge flat bead truck that had wood on both sides. They were stacking this old T.V. sets about 10 high so I thought they would for sure just ker-plop out onto the road. There were a ton of them too. The only thing I could think of was...” you better make sure you buy one from the top.
Our next stop was the Bead market in Buddabura. Once again we were headed out on the bumpy road. We drove through small villages with crazy business signs. My favorite was “loverboys undertakers” with a picture of a women all dressed up...I assume dead. We also drove by a women with a sewing machine sitting outside of her little shack of a house. She was busy sewing something shiny and white. It looked like a wedding dress. We finally reached Buddabura and it was packed with people in the streets heading here and there, children in uniforms and little shops all lining the street. It was a regular metropolis. We pulled in to a gas station (of sort) and asked a security man if we could park there. He said yes and he locked up and headed out. The minute I got out of the car sweat started to drip down my back. It was hot and muggy.
We walked a few yards down the road and came to a girls sitting in on a bench. The Sign read...Cold Drink. She must have a generator or something running on a ice box.Ryan ordered a coke, Tammy ordered a sprite, I ordered an orange Fanta. She had she did not have one so I thought of something else I would like to drink ( I don’t like pop much so a was a little bothered. She pulled out various drinks for me to choose from...coke, diet coke, sprite, Dr. Pepper...Orange Fanta... “Oh, I will take the orange Fanta.” That's Africa for you. She handed us our glass bottles and we wiped them of with a antibacterial wipe. I wondered if this ritual ever offended them or made us look strange. Tammy said “straws?” Because you should always use a straw in Africa. She did not have anymore and Ryan looked at me with fear behind his baby blues. “ It’s okay,” Tammy said “ just don’ put your whole moth on the bottle.” Ryan began to walk away with his drink and the lady said... “no,no.” Tammy explained to us that we only paid for the drink not the bottle and that they sale the bottle back. If we would like to buy the bottle from her we could. So we sat and drank...carefully. We found out that she was 14 years old and that this was her Aunts store who had left for a funeral (There is always a funeral). She was also watching her niece. I had a thought while I packed my bags that bringing a bottle of bubbles might be fun if I had a chance to show them to some kids. Ryan thought it was silly and would only end up exploding in my bag somewhere over the Atlantic. They didn’t. I had put them in my purse before we left on our field trip. I took the bubbles out of my bag and blew them in the air towards this little girl who just sat starring at my scary white face. She looked at the bubbles in awe as they floated down. But as they came closer she was not so sure about them and became a little upset as she tried to get out of the way of these strange oncoming orbs. One popped on her face and you would have thought it had burned her by the wail she let out. I felt bad that I had made her cry. My first bubble attempt had failed. Ryan mocked me as we gave back our empty bottles and headed back out on the road.
I need to add her that soda pop is so much better in Africa. It may be because its in a glass bottle or that it is made differently for other countries...but I normally do not like it and can pass it up. It gets me all bloated and burpy...a feeling I can do without, thank you very much. But, here it is not so syrup like and the bubbles are little so it is almost flat compared to our stuff. I could drink it by the gallons.
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