Though I lived in Mango for almost eight months last year, I easily forgot how the dry, red dirt literally sticks to your skin whenever your sweaty.
One of the silliest decisions that I made this week was putting lip gloss on before biking off of the hospital compound.
Within minutes a moto (motorcycle) zoomed past me and then a taxi did too and my lip gloss was suddenly dirt-gloss. Fancy, I know.
I was heading into town to visit my friend R* in market and to find some good looking mangos. As I was biking down the red dirt road to the market, I saw the water tower in the distance and knew that I was heading in the right direction. There are not many street signs here, so I used landmarks to help me keep my directions straight. After the water tower, I passed my tailors new shop and then I passed my friend’s house; I continued down the bumpy, dirt road until I finally reached the market.
By the time I arrived at the market, my lip gloss wasn’t the only thing the dirt was stuck to. My feet, my arms, and my face are all sticky with sweat and red dirt.
The market was fairly calm, so I stopped by R*’s pagne (west African fabric) shop before I continued on with my errands.
When I stopped, she greeted me with a warm “Bon Arivee’”, I shook her hand, and sat down with her. I asked her how her family was doing and she asked me how my father was doing and then she redirected my attention to the new pagnes that she had in her shop. Pagnes are pieces or strips of materials that come in many colors and designs. Whether they are fashioned into a nice dress or wrapped around your head or waist.. almost everyone in town wears some kind of pagne regularly. After I looked at the pagnes and decided against buying yet another one, I asked R* if I could leave my bike at her shop while I went to search for Mangos, then I asked permission to leave, chatted for a few more minutes and then was on my way to look for mangos.
I walked in between the two rows of shops to the row of women selling fruits and vegetables in the middle. I said hello, smiled, and tried let all of them know that I was looking for mangos. Although several people approached me with piles of mangos atop of their heads, I ended up passing on the mangos in market. None of them looked quite as good as the ones that I had gotten the week before and I wasn’t settling for sub-par mangos.
mango-less, I walked back to R*’s shop, sat with her for a bit longer, then went on my way.. biking back through the red dirt, past the water tower, and finally back into the hospital compound.
This was just errand one of my day.
Written by Megan Smith
2019 Global Health Collaboration Missions Scholarship Recipient
Working with World Medical Mission
Mango, Togo- Africa