Grocery Shopping in Guinea

You’ve never really experienced grocery shopping until you’ve had to do it in an African open-air market!

I believe we’ve shared about the market and food here in Guinea before... but this time we have pictures! You’re really not supposed to take pictures in Kankan without some sort of written permission we’ve been told... but my husband is a rebel and is very sneaky. Thanks to bringing back a smart phone we don’t use in America because of a broken screen (yes it was me that clumsily dropped it!) Brandon was able to pretend like he was talking on the phone while snapping some candid shots of the market place in Kankan! (the things we do for our readership!)

This includes of course, some very disgusting pictures of how the meat is delivered to the market:

Yes, despite seeing that picture we still bought some beef, still cooked it, and still ate it!

Grocery shopping is a process: going from one vendor, to the next, to the next until you finally are able to cross off every item on your list (which in the end only costs you about $15!). We try to go to market only once a week and get all the fresh veggies, flour, sugar, milk and other assorted items we need for that week. Most of the Guineans go every day because there is no electricity, therefore no fridges. And in the spirit of Thanksgiving, this reminds me: I am SO thankful to have a fridge here!

There are stall after stall after stall of fresh bread, potatoes, onions, peppers, avocados, tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, eggplant, squash, lettuce, eggs, cans of tomato paste and mayonnaise, flour piled high on a rickety table, sugar, and stacks of chicken, beef, shrimp and fish bouillon. I’ve yet to figure out the thought process behind vendors setting up next to someone who sells the exact same thing. There’s a whole street of dozens of women who sell just onions! I often wonder where the competitive edge is--how do they stand out from the lady next to them selling the very same onion?

And after a hot day of tramping through the market, shoulder to shoulder through crowded streets, smelling delightful smells like raw beef, fish ground into a fine powder and the general aroma of sweat, with everyone staring at us because it is painfully obvious we are not African, we finally get home... only to have to soak our veggies in bleach and water for some time before we can even eat them!

-Hannah