It is on a bike in China that I sometimes feel the closest to Africa. Because I live in a big Chinese city, every day is a market day, but while bike riding on the same road for the past four days, this weekly market popped up just like how in my first village in Guinea, there was a weekly market. Instead of using three wheel vehicles, Guineans would on their heads carry tomatoes in buckets or would ride in the back bed of a large twelve wheel truck from the big city of Labe. School would end early, and we would all trek the five kilometers to market buying a week's worth of groceries.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Market Day
It is on a bike in China that I sometimes feel the closest to Africa. Because I live in a big Chinese city, every day is a market day, but while bike riding on the same road for the past four days, this weekly market popped up just like how in my first village in Guinea, there was a weekly market. Instead of using three wheel vehicles, Guineans would on their heads carry tomatoes in buckets or would ride in the back bed of a large twelve wheel truck from the big city of Labe. School would end early, and we would all trek the five kilometers to market buying a week's worth of groceries.
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