This
was a proper local market, full of bright, big baskets of fruit and
vegetables and rainbow piles of wool. Not a postcard or bit of tourist tat in sight. It was a place to bring, buy, eat, drink, gossip, catch up
and socialise. Even the local police officers were standing chatting, hats off,
enjoying a beer. Community policing at
its best. As we were getting back onto the bus the women started piling up on the back of a Toyota truck, looking
like a pyramid of colourful sacks.
I pointed to them "It looks like they're trying
for the world record of how many people can you get onto the back of a truck."
"Ah," said Paco, "The selling part of
the market is finishing. That is the only truck or taxi that will take the
women home. They have to go now and work in the house. The men stay and
drink."
Some things are the same the
world over.
