The Dassasgo Market is alive with energy and colour. Individual vendors are jammed together under tarps of corrugated tin or scrap lumber selling everything from natural medicines and plastic products to fabric and hairstyling services.
Bright green peppers, garden-ripe tomatoes, red onions, cucumbers and other vegetables are arranged in neat piles on mats. A veritable salad of aromas fills the air. I’ve never been in a supermarket that smelled so fresh.
Vendors, almost exclusively women, sit on mats or lean against posts that support tarps shading their wares, cheerfully bantering back and forth, inviting visitors to purchase their produce.
Bonjour, ça va? Greetings come from everyone, including the children who shyly follow us and extend hands of greeting. One small boy runs back to his mother, wide-eyed, to show her the hand that I, a pale, Anglo-speaking woman have touched. She bursts into laughter and sends me a warm smile.
The marketplace, I think, captures something of the essence of the Burkinabé.
