African shopping experience

I almost giggled as for the second time no one stopped me for formalities at the Tunduma/Nakonde border post and I wondered if this was really a border crossing point for two nations. My itch for shopping was high but the few dollars I had left were not encouraging especially when my sandal ripped. As I limped across the border into Tanzania I mentally added a pair of unbudgeted slippers to my already limited shopping list.

My earlier trip into Tunduma had been uneventful with all concentration centred on clearing my vehicle but now as I absorbed the sights more intensely I pondered on where exactly the markets could be. As I limped along everyone seemed eager to assist but it was more their hand signals than the fast Swahili instructions that led me to the cobbler. Five minutes later and 2000 Tanzanian shillings poorer, I was ready to commence my shopping. I walked up the only road that seemed to go anywhere but found no market. Suddenly I found myself in the company of young John who was eagerly offering to be my tour guide in my native Shona language. Thieves!!! I quickly remembered the strong warnings I had received and subconsciously clutched my pockets for reassurance that my money and passport were safe. As I argued that I was fine and could find my own way, two Zimbabwean women who stopped John to ask for directions to the nearest bureau de change reassured me that I was safe as John was their regular tour guide.

Once John sensed my budding trust he immediately took charge, asking for the first item on my shopping list and swiftly leading the way before I could reconsider. As I trotted behind him to keep up with his fast pace I entered into the maze of markets off the main road. We swiftly turned left and right avoiding merchants and fellow shoppers, leaving me with no sense of direction at all. As we stopped at one stall after the other I pondered how on earth I would have made my way in this labyrinth without John. The market was far bigger than I had anticipated; Swahili negotiations with the merchants intense and the mathematical conversion from dollar to shilling even more confusing. After scurrying behind John for almost two hours I was tired and penniless but a secret smile of satisfaction was on my face for the well bargained shopping bags we were carrying.

As I looked back at Tunduma for the last time, my only sense of disappointment was failing to taste roasted bananas and the need for more spending money next time.