On Sunday afternoon we had a river cruise scheduled, so we hit the craft markets earlier in the day. Circumstance would dictate this was an unwise proposition. It is the low season at the falls, and many people fly out on a Sunday, meaning that we were nearly the only people there. Stalls and stalls of carved wooden animals, seas of carved stone, and dozens of eyes glued to us as we approached.
Every hawker on the street, he has the same two masks, the same two carved figurines, and he’s polishing them with a rag as he tells you what a good deal he has just for you. Two for $25. Two for $15. Two for $10. Then, when it becomes clear it isn’t going to happen, he tells you about how long it’s been since he sold something. How hungry he and his family are. If you could just give him a dollar, he could buy some bread. The problem is, there are 100 people, and they would all like a dollar.
That’s not to say that the experience was all bad. We met a slick guy who likes to be called Cali who sold us some Zim money (he got a ridiculously good deal, we found out later). He showed us how he was polishing up a very impressive wooden candleholder. Later we met Rudolf, a very bright law student who was watching his mother’s shop. He gave us the unfiltered political views we'd wanted since arriving. For an hour he railed against President Mugabe and the corrupt Zanu-PF, explaining the realities you don’t get in international news bites. We bought a lovely wall hanging that he said he’d painted himself.
In the craft market, everyone is an "artist". Yet shop after shop, you see the same carved wooden hippos, the same stone soap dishes, the same elephant hair bracelets. Somewhere, someone very talented cranks out these pieces by hand, but I doubt they go to market to sell them as well. That’s not to say that the pieces aren’t beautiful and each unique in their own right, but to find a one of a kind piece takes some serious searching.
That’s not to say that the experience was all bad. We met a slick guy who likes to be called Cali who sold us some Zim money (he got a ridiculously good deal, we found out later). He showed us how he was polishing up a very impressive wooden candleholder. Later we met Rudolf, a very bright law student who was watching his mother’s shop. He gave us the unfiltered political views we'd wanted since arriving. For an hour he railed against President Mugabe and the corrupt Zanu-PF, explaining the realities you don’t get in international news bites. We bought a lovely wall hanging that he said he’d painted himself.
In the craft market, everyone is an "artist". Yet shop after shop, you see the same carved wooden hippos, the same stone soap dishes, the same elephant hair bracelets. Somewhere, someone very talented cranks out these pieces by hand, but I doubt they go to market to sell them as well. That’s not to say that the pieces aren’t beautiful and each unique in their own right, but to find a one of a kind piece takes some serious searching.
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