Monkey Bay Market

Had a great trip to the Monkey Bay market last week - only my second in 7 weeks as I am now a full time working mother and that leaves very little time for the things which feed the soul! Not many souls would be nourished by the Monkey Bay market - but I know some of you whose would! It is hell of a hot and hell of a dusty and hell of a loud - in fact pure hell for those who are not obsessed bargain hunters like myself (and others who know who they are!).
Under the baobab tree are about 30 vendors of piles of second hand clothes which have apparently done the rounds of European and American second hand stores and have been sent to Africa as a last resort. This is a contentious issue for the more leftie of aid workers, as apparently this has affected African countries' textile industries. However, from first hand observation, I must say that the local textile trade is all in chitenjes, and, because every local woman wears one every day over her western clothes (and often wears two if she has a baby to sling over her shoulder - and many do!)there is very little danger of the chitenje trade ever dying out. But it does mean that, instead of everyone being dressed in rags or shocking nylon Chinese imports (a far greater danger), people have access to cheap, well-made clothes. Prices are highest for t-shirts and boardshorts, which are like a uniform for the male youth here.
Local traders buy bales of clothes which have been sorted into types - "Blousie, Spagetti (strappy tops), T-shuttie, Dressie," etc. And then sell them for a fluctuating price (I suspect) according to whether you are a Mzungu (whitie) or a local. This makes me feel better about buying as I think the vendor makes more if I buy and I certainly buy more than any locals - so everyone is happy.
Anyway, for me it is a joy to scuffle through the unlikely-looking piles and come across gems. Have found labels, labels, labels, sweeties! Last week the last dismal-looking pile turned out to be Italian label frocks of various eras - some splendours. One was a lime yellow silk mini, never worn, label still attached! Oh the thrill! My children are dressed exclusively in Monkey Bay finds (sadly they favour things emblazoned with Buzz Lightyear and Spiderman and the thrill they get from such hideous articles offsets my disgust of them.)
But probably even more soul-feeding than the treasure hunt was the journey there and back. I set off all alone (treat!) in Jurie's flash 4x4 which has a clever ipod thingy that works off his tape deck. So I had gorgeous music blaring and the road winds (really winds I mean, in a hairpin after corkscrew fashion!) through the hills of the Lake Malawi National Park, which are covered in what is known as Miombo woodland. It is exquisite - the trees are all green still and have incredibly twisty branches - almost like the trees in Japanese woodcuts, or Pierneef paintings. One has to drive very slowly as the road is dirt and being worked on at the moment, and there is a cyclist carrying a live goat, or a roll of 2m long mats, or a carefully balanced pile of 20 egg trays, or three live ducks, or 1m long woven baskets of charcoal, or two women and a baby, around every corner. It is all very scenic....