I wish I had taken a photo of the fabric stores, but I never bring my camera or anything of value when I go to the market. Pickpockets hide themselves well in the crowds, and taking a photo only shows that I have money, and vendors will try to rip me off. Granted, they will try to rip me off anyway, but flashing a camera or an iphone will just make them even more stubborn and difficult to bargain with.
Sandaga market sells everything, from cell phones and CDs, baby cribs and candy, shoes and clothing, and fabric in every color, texture, and style. There is one particularly annoying stretch that caters to tourists, where rickety wooden stalls are lined up directly next to each other. They sell carved statues, beaded necklaces, leather sandals, and mass produced paintings. Whenever a foreigner walks by, they jump up and follow, pleading, demanding, or persuading him/her to look at their goods. "Just for looking," they will say, "You don't have to buy." Or, "I give you good price because you are my friend."
Beyond the tourist section, random people will approach and begin a conversation, and unlike the shopkeepers who avoid leaving their stalls, these individuals may follow you for several blocks trying to convince you to go to their relative's or friend's store. After those experience, I always go with a Senegalese friend to avoid being ushered or mobbed by eager vendors. If I am with a Senegalese person, the people will address the person instead of me, and are more likely to leave because I am already with a local. I am really grateful to my friends who have gone to the market with me, since they have to endure the barrage of questions--"What does she want to buy?" "I have everything in my store." "Does she speak wolof?" "Does she speak French?"
Bargaining is much easier with a Senegalese friend, because they know what the price should be, and the seller knows that they know. At one stand, the seller immediately charged me double the price, and when my friend argued, he said, "okay, fine. I gave her the white people price, but since she is with you, here is the Senegalese price." As I was picking out my fabrics, he told him, "You are really stupid. Next time you bring a foreigner here, just keep quiet. I'll rip them off, and I'll give you a cut of the profits!"
I bought fabric, a type which they call "wax," from four different vendors, and now have a beautiful selection of fabrics to make clothing with, and to give as gifts to friends. Some have shiny, gold patterns printed on top, and they vary in quality. The cheaper ones are lighter, with noticeably less thread count, but are good to wear during hot summers. I did not bring enough cash with me, but I wanted to purchase some of the embroidered, bejweled, and sequined fabric--these are usually made of sheer material, and used as a shawl or a scarf to glam up an outfit. In some stores, bolts of such fabric are hung on the wall, glittering like curtains of stars.
If I have time, perhaps I will find a tailor here so I can make some pieces before going home.
Sandaga market sells everything, from cell phones and CDs, baby cribs and candy, shoes and clothing, and fabric in every color, texture, and style. There is one particularly annoying stretch that caters to tourists, where rickety wooden stalls are lined up directly next to each other. They sell carved statues, beaded necklaces, leather sandals, and mass produced paintings. Whenever a foreigner walks by, they jump up and follow, pleading, demanding, or persuading him/her to look at their goods. "Just for looking," they will say, "You don't have to buy." Or, "I give you good price because you are my friend."
Beyond the tourist section, random people will approach and begin a conversation, and unlike the shopkeepers who avoid leaving their stalls, these individuals may follow you for several blocks trying to convince you to go to their relative's or friend's store. After those experience, I always go with a Senegalese friend to avoid being ushered or mobbed by eager vendors. If I am with a Senegalese person, the people will address the person instead of me, and are more likely to leave because I am already with a local. I am really grateful to my friends who have gone to the market with me, since they have to endure the barrage of questions--"What does she want to buy?" "I have everything in my store." "Does she speak wolof?" "Does she speak French?"
Bargaining is much easier with a Senegalese friend, because they know what the price should be, and the seller knows that they know. At one stand, the seller immediately charged me double the price, and when my friend argued, he said, "okay, fine. I gave her the white people price, but since she is with you, here is the Senegalese price." As I was picking out my fabrics, he told him, "You are really stupid. Next time you bring a foreigner here, just keep quiet. I'll rip them off, and I'll give you a cut of the profits!"
I bought fabric, a type which they call "wax," from four different vendors, and now have a beautiful selection of fabrics to make clothing with, and to give as gifts to friends. Some have shiny, gold patterns printed on top, and they vary in quality. The cheaper ones are lighter, with noticeably less thread count, but are good to wear during hot summers. I did not bring enough cash with me, but I wanted to purchase some of the embroidered, bejweled, and sequined fabric--these are usually made of sheer material, and used as a shawl or a scarf to glam up an outfit. In some stores, bolts of such fabric are hung on the wall, glittering like curtains of stars.
If I have time, perhaps I will find a tailor here so I can make some pieces before going home.
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