Oh Owino, you have touched me so

 

Owino market.  Frankly, there are not words to describe it, so I will include lots of pictures, which also won’t do it justice.  It may be the dirtiest, crowdedest (it deserves a new word, believe me), hottest, loudest, most alive place I have ever been.  Imagine blocks and blocks and blocks of DI or Salvation Army or flea market (but only the stuff that you don’t buy), with the aisles only 1 ½ body widths wide and booths 15 feet high, all stuffed to overflowing with every used piece of clothing imaginable, all protected by either corrugated tin roofs, or medieval tarpaulins—both do the trick of creating a fetid steam of human, animal, and agricultural odor distinct to Uganda’s largest marketplace.  Due to the careful attention one must pay to where one’s feet are, lest one step in something entirely regretful or miss a makeshift bridge built over a small ravine intended to provide a way for the rain and mud and unmentionables to find its way to the “river” that surrounds it, it is nearly impossible to actually see what treasures might be hanging 10 feet over ones head.  The maze, the maze, the maze was dizzying. 

Did I mention that everyone we passed (it really did feel like thousands) touched Mary, or me, or both of us?  It was impossible to know who might have touched us, but I don’t think it was the young man who passed me and, with his face no less than one inch from mine, yelled “WHITE!”  No.  He didn’t touch me, but I was impressed by his grasp of the obvious.  Other touches made us feel like the Jesus Hem Incident, without the compassion.

And that was just the clothing section.

Because our guide (Ssimbwa) was afraid it was going to rain, and apparently it is unpleasant when it rains (as opposed to the unpleasantness when it is dry), we circumvented much of the market to the food section as we left.  The smells were both wonderful and overwhelming: mountains of spices, what seemed like acres of dried fish, and rows and rows of fresh fruits and vegetables.  And people and children sitting, playing, working, talking, laughing, eating, and living.

 

I was fascinated.  Dave was almost gleeful.  Sam was disgusted.  Mary was  intimidated.  Joe was so small he kept getting hit in the head by passing elbows, etc., and was sickened by the smell.  The kids will never go back.  I will go back if I have waders on so I don’t have to worry so much about where I step. 

Wonderful, slightly frightening chaos.  The stuff of life!