Braving Katako

Susan arrived at 9:15 this morning to go with me to the used clothes market at Katako, a nearby (predominantly Muslim) neighbourhood in Jos. I hadn't been there since...probably 1997 or 1998, so it's been a while. But I needed to look for some maternity clothes, so Susan offered to go with me, since she needed some stuff, too.

That part of town is a maze, and this morning, it was busy with traffic weaving around potholes full of last night's rain (and who knows what else). I admire Susan so much for her driving skills, patience, and--above all--bravery! We parked in the parking lot of a nearby school and walked the last few hundred yards to the market. We got a lot of stares, and several children walking by shouted, "Baturia!" (white woman). But we're used to that, especially in that part of town.

It was muddy from last night's rain, and we hoped the still-sprinkling clouds would clear up as we shopped rather than dumping more rain on our expedition. (Thank you, God!) We turned down the road leading to the market and negotiated puddles, broken bits of pavement, and motorcycles while crossing to the market alleyway. Let me just say that the market has changed tremendously since I was there last. In '97, it was a hodgepodge group of tin-sided shanty stalls all facing a dirt road that ran between two rows. Now the place is built up. The stalls are actually in concrete buildings (some even have glass doors!). Going down the alleyway between them is like going down a hallway with open rooms on either side as far as the eye can see.

We had no idea where to go to find maternity clothes, so we asked a few shopkeepers. After passing many closed shops (which were open when we left two hours later), we started our shopping.

Of course, most of you have shopped at your nearest resale shop, consignment store, thrift store, Salvation Army, or wherever. You know it's just a tedious process of looking through pretty much everything there is in a particular category. Katako is no different. We looked through shops for almost two hours and came up with three dresses for me (for a total of US$8.85) and two shirts for Susan. Not great, but not bad! I'm afraid we got our first two dresses for about $1.50 each, so after that, when one man quoted us a price of N1300 ($10) for a particular dress, we bargained until he was asking for his "last price" of N800 ($6) and walked away. The prices didn't seem to go down at all, though. I bought my next dress for N750!! But oh well.

The neatest shop Susan took me to (one with glass doors) was a store full of Indian-style outfits. Each outfit had a knee-length sheer shift with slits up the sides, and a matching pair of trousers. They were so lovely, I could have spent an hour in that shop just looking at each one. Sadly, none were big enough to accommodate my growing tummy (Baby "Kes" is due Nov 14th, so I'm almost five months along). So I told the shopkeeper I might return after I "put to bed" (pidgin for delivering a baby).

Our last stop was a shop Susan knew well and had been to several times before. We sat there for about twenty minutes looking through two bundles of shirts. (You have to realise these "shops" are stalls only about 10' deep and 3 or 4' across. Pretty tiny. So there's not a lot of space to display clothes. Most of them are stacked on benches or still in bags or bundles.) Almost all of the shirts were either miniscule or too sheer (or both). It makes sense, considering most young women here are just small in general. But kai, it was frustrating. Susan and I aren't particularly large, but we still had a hard time finding shirts! We must have looked at a hundred or so. Some of them had funny slogans ("You've got me. What are your other two wishes?" and "So close, and yet so far from getting my number!"), and some were cute, but... Yeah. While Susan crammed behind a curtain to try on a shirt (in an area smaller than a phone booth), I had a nice chat with the lady who sat 2" away from me on a bench facing my plastic purple stool. She was a largish woman and was complaining to me--who completely understood--her woes about finding clothes to fit her. I listened and sympathised, and nodded, and passed her a few shirts I thought might be big enough for her. Poor woman. Susan finally bought the two shirts that fit her (and were decent), paid the men and spoke to them about Jesus, and we started home.

So I have three "new" dresses and a lot to laugh about! Thanks, Susan! I had a good time. :)