Market Day

Imagine you are a seller in a market. You have a stall in the back corner. You sell shoes, all kinds, heals, sneakers, flip flops, slitters. You make a small profit, enough to support you five children. Your friend sells beside you, a young women who sells cloth, traditional and untraditional. To your other side is an old woman who sells tomatores, onions and pepe. In front of you is a hairdresser, she earns most of her income by selling weaves. Its a sunday, mid-afternoon. You arrived only hours ago, right after church. Today is busy as ever, you've made enough money to bring home cassave and plaintan for fufu tonight, the children will be thrilled. When things are quiet at you stall you look up, you see a young man whom you see everyday. He sells friend egg sandwiches. You've had one before, only once, you thought he was a little over sealous with the salt. But you see someone is purchasing from him. They are fairly far, at the end of the row about 50 metres away. but you can see him as he turns on the gas, to start cooking. He uses a gas stove with one burner. He picks up his match and lights the element. He then throws the used match on the ground, it wasn't fully estinguished when it hit the ground, you watch it fall to what looks like a small puddle of water. You were wrong, the tank had leaked, the lit match fell into a small puddle of gasoline. It lit up like a full moon in the pitch black sky. As people around realized what was happening the crowded market became chaotic. There are eight small enterances to the market and buyers and sellers rushed them with their arms full. You had a choice, you could quickly go or collect what you could of you shoes and avoid losing hundreds of cedis (dollars). Without your shoes you wouldnt be able to support your children. You made the choice you had to make, you started to fill your bag. You looked to your friend with the cloth, she had made the same choice. You yell to her to collect what she can and you\d come back to the rest. You follow her out, both carrying your valuable on your heards. She stops at a spot that is a decent distance from the market. She will gaurd the items while you go back in. You know the fire will spread fast so you have to hurry. You race through the crowds like a fish swimming up stream. You arrive at the stall and start to grab what you can, shoes on your head and cloth in each of your arms, a small bag of onions you manage to save for the old lady beside you. You can smell the weaves burning. You remember back to a month ago when the hairdresser commented to a potential buyer that they were made from real hair, you were certain of that now. You can also smell the burning leather of your own merchandise you couldn't save. You look to your left to see some young mean looting, stealing what they can of sellers precious livelihood, you know those sellers hadn't abandoned their things yet, but they would come back to see it almost all gone. You hear sirens in the distance, thank God, you know you have to go. You've saved what you can. You run as fast as you can wit h the things you carry and smoke in your eyes. As you pass the old woman you give her her onions, she is greatful. You made it to you friend who is in tears because of the thousands of cedis she has lost in expensive cloth. You both lean against a railing and watch the market go up in smoke. You hear someone say that the fire department can't do anything because it's a gas fire. We have to wait it out. You watch the police and ambulance struggle to make it through the narrow roads, overflowing with people and cars. You watch as people continue to run out of the market with as much as they can carry. Peopl risking their lives in order to avoid losing their money. The fire dies out about three hours later.


A similar situation happened in Koforidua market on January 27th. I watch smoke fill the sky, people screaming, crying and scurrying with piles upon piles on their heads and the police about 75 metres away because they couldn't make it though the traffic