Design that Matters Field Journal

A Walk in Kati

This afternoon I decided to venture into Kati to a marché in search of pagnas (fabric that we intended to use as sheets for our journey up to Dogon country). Kati is a small town about 10 km outside of Bamako. We had been to the Gran Marché in Bamako a few days earlier and the experience was exhausting.

Tim's African shopping negotiation tactics meant spending about 15 minutes chatting with the sales guy for about every 2,000CFA (~$4) we spent. Progress was slow, but we got to meet a lot of Malian shop vendors and many of their friends. At one stall, we were even offered hot tea. The markets are all outside along the narrow streets and are made up of simple wooden stalls and tables that wind on for blocks. Vendors display their goods including all kinds of food, clothing, shoes, mats, soap and other items for daily living. Walking around the market requires a great deal of attention - hopping between giant red puddles of muddy water, avoiding the impatient taxi vans that bump along through the market streets, and ducking between women carrying stacks of fabric or bowls of fruit on their head. One false move and you could trip over a goat or accidentally stand in a bowl of peanuts.

Fortunately Kati was a lot smaller and quieter. I headed out down the street toward the center of town passing a group of women washing clothes in buckets of soapy water and spreading them out over the ground to dry by the side of the road. Mali is a colorful place. Many men and women wear printed shirts, pants and dresses all made from brightly colored fabrics - they also wrap things up in fabric to wear on their head or women wrap their babies up and tie them onto their back. Walking along the edge of the road I watched almost everyone stare at me as I walked by. There are many different ways for people to call out to get your attention - "piisssst, piisssst…" or they purse their lips and make a loud kissing sound or often the kids just yell out "toubab" or "blanc" which means basically "hey you white person!" They even have a little song that they sometimes chant, "toubabou tababou…". I smile, wave, and say "bonjour…ça va". Yes, I am a white person and I stand out.

The marché in Kati was relatively quiet that afternoon. I found a stall selling pagnas and flipped through the different patterns to find something bright and cheery. The guys helped me pick out two fabrics and cut them to a single pagna length - usually they sell 2-3 lengths for the women to make into dresses or skirts. I didn't bother negotiating the price - the price he gave me was already well below the price we paid for the pagna we bought in the Bamako market after 20 minutes of chatting/negotiating. I even managed to have him take me to a tailor to have the edges hemmed for a mere 100CFA. While I waited, the tailor's friend presented me with a small photo album of all the different dresses and shirts I could have sewn - many of the women's dresses were made with round puffy shoulders, fitted waists, and a number of big ruffles. I admired the dresses and his craftsmanship and declined the invitation to choose a ruffled outfit. I already stand out enough.

I decided to wander around the market and a few of the streets of Kati before heading back. I tried to politely ignore the sounds of people trying to get my attention coming from different doorways along the way. I passed the "American Rap Shack" along the way - an aquamarine shack, with a tin roof and a stereo blasting rap in what sounded like French. I passed lots of goats, chickens, mangos, papayas, and plastic home furnishings. Most little shops along the street have a couple of worn plastic woven chairs out front and usually a couple of guys sitting talking or drinking tea out of little pots that they heat over a small charcoal stove. I greeted many people along the way as I made my way back out of town - declining a couple of taxi rides and waving at groups of curious little kids.

Just as I returned to the headquarters building for the Institute pour l'Education Populaire - it started to rain big heavy drops. The women that were washing their laundry an hour ago were now gathering it up and dumping out their buckets of water. A small kid was running around naked, laughing and getting clean in the rain. I'd survived my first solo marché expedition and, although I was tired of attracting so much attention, it was good to know I could get a ruffled dress made to order anytime I wanted.