Obruni Wao Market

The average Saturday at house #5 finds me in the kitchen. Food planning & preparation for Sunday meals starts on Saturday & begins with a good Sunday breakfast. We leave anywhere between 8 & 9:30 depending on the location of the church. Snacking during the service is tricky, so bellies must be full when we point the Tata down the Nsawam/Accra highway. Sundays often mean a packable lunch. Without convenience foods, that means good bread must be made, baking done & drinks frozen. Are there veggies in the fridge that survived the last power outage? If not, who wants to brave the Amasaman market on a Saturday afternoon?
If the drive to church is reasonable, lunch only needs to be something made or heated quickly. Patient my children are not when we arrive home at 1:30 in the afternoon &, horrors, the rice needs to steam!
Like every family, our Saturdays turn into race to finish the list of odds & ends turned loose during the week. Between the list & the kitchen, the day is filled up.
That said, June 11 was a very pleasant diversion from the usual! Audrey & I, Juanita , Marilyn & Leona, our Cape Coast friends, planned a shopping trip to Accra’s Central Market. We were happy to forgo the many city blocks of food, household & electronics for the Obruni Wao section. Dead white man’s clothes , as the name literally means, was a teeming mass of tin & wood market booths bisected by slimy gutters. Slices of sunlight beamed into the dim pathways. The smell here, as it is all over Ghana, mixed chicken manure, public toilets, sweaty humanity & even spicy scent of lunch hawkers. Follow your nose has new meaning to me. The used clothing economy is, dare I say, even larger here than across the water. Small stands can be found lined up beside many of the seamstress, hair salon & provision shops in many towns. It seems my neighbors & passers-by all own locally sewn dresses, skirts & shirts, but for everyday use they prefer "western" wear. Most often the two genres are combined. :)

Booths were manned by determined sales persons, busy holding out items they were sure would tempt you & empty your wallet.
Children’s clothes abounded, then ladies, men's, futball attire,suits, even leather jackets with fur lining. A selection of knit caps & fuzzy scarves made my neck prickle . Red faux croc men’s dress shoes competed with yellow futball cleats. women’s wedges, rhinestoned slides, pink squishy crocs & teeny tiny baby shoes were on display & held up to the obrunis.

Enjoying the company of my Fanti & Twi intelligent friends, we were not taken advantage of & enjoyed lively conversations & bartering. It seems a good barter is like respect around here. Throw in a few compliments & small talk while you barter, & you are likely to pay about half of the first asked price. Oh, yes. Audrey was given a price of GHc 18 on a pair of sandals, offered him GHc 10 & ended up paying less than even that.
Each one was sure they had what you needed. If I made the mistake of saying I needed a man’s black dress shirt, medium , short sleeves, they looked & only through flattery did I escape buying one of 100% polyester! Two booths down the row, I found the right shirt. Persistence & sense of humor made the day an excellent break from routine. When else do I get to ogle gold strappy heels & gorgeous ethnic print headscarves in the same hour?
And then we passed the toilet. Cost: GHp10. Don’t use them. Ever.
And then the live chickens. Need one? Uh, no.
And then the ribbon and notions for GHp10/yard. Yes, please!
After a few hours we stopped for rice & cokes. She said the word Pepsi. That got our attention. We noted our doubts & all voted that, when she had checked, the Pepsi would be finished. We were close. It was not finished, but warm. Ah, Ghana. You are making a skeptic of this optimist. The rice, as promised on the sign, appeared quite hygienic & was excellent.

We returned to the rabbit warren of passage ways browsing the open front booths for a few things still unfound. Many of the tags were European, some American, some Asian. Beautiful dresses, tops & hundreds of skirts & every conceivable garment from underwear to fuzzy socks. Who could resist a denim mini made knee length with black lace ruffles?! Not far off, my wandering eye was caught by a cupcake printed bed sheet. Always knew my attention span needed training & this wild display of colors, styles threw all training to the wind! Cash only was a really good thing. My American debit card is only in my wallet for sweet nostalgia. No use for it here.
At the denim stand, I held up a nice denim skirt. Too small. The helpful owner showed me the stretch in the fabric and managed to stretch that little number across my hips.

"Too tight," I said. "What?! It fit’s you," she replied, "it is nice for you, Akausia!"

Too tight is not understood here. ;0)
Another helpful lady got my attention by waving a pair of pants at me. Blue satin with rhinestone trim. That offer was easy to turn down. She seemed surprised I didn't snatch them up.
The only downside? White people are thought to have bottomless wallets. The men were especially aggressive in getting our attention with arm grabbing, shoulder squeezing. " Oh, I like you. I want to go to America. Oh, please, come have a look," They would say, while invading my personal space. One shoe salesman hardly would accept we were married. "Oh, I am! And he is a big man," I would say. A firm voice & "NO" was enough, thankfully.
Clutching our bags of goodies we pushed our way (literally) through the shoulder to shoulder street traffic to our vehicle. We all left with fun & practical finds. I found curtains for Elle's room, Juanita found a gorgeous wool pashmina, Audrey a sweet little denim jacket. It was an experience I care to have again. Anytime. Consider yourself invited.

Here is another traveler's description. Enjoy!
http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/09-09/mix-and-match-a-visit-to-accras-biggest-second-hand-clothes-market-accra-ghana.html