So, by now, perhaps, you have read A Poet Speaks of Empire and you are curious about the meaning of a
particular poem or where inspiration for a poem came from. You may not have
purchased a book yet, but posts like this one may tempt you. Over the next few
weeks, I will fill you in on the story behind some of my readers' favorite
poems. Pour a cup of tea or a glass of fine wine. I plan to pull back the veil
on a few of the poems from A Poet Speaks
of Empire—one at a time, week by week.
“Makola Market” was a reader favorite. Read it again or,
here, for the very first time:
From the pit of the market –
a vantage point for barter and
trade – the echo of bold women
offering their wares for smooth
coins and crumbling bills.
Commerce is happening in Makola
Market on a vast lot – a plaza boasting
of tomatoes, peppers, gari
and rice. Long wished for fabrics – print
and embroidered – Kente cloth is
sold
to the highest bidder.
“This one is called, Your Heart’s Desire,”
says the market woman. How easy is her
gaze and how pleasing her plea.
Supply meets demand, here, at a price
that shifts with the ways of the wind.
Generations of women – farmers’ wives and
farmers, tailors’ wives and tailors – lay
claim to their wealth, measured in bills and
political power. A market woman’s vote
is more than marginal and
her words of praise or ridicule echo
around the market. Those who want
power swoon the market women,
whose pockets are filled with commerce.
My story begins with a confession: while I did visit Makola Market, located
in Ghana’s capital, Accra, among the largest and most well-known open air
markets in Ghana, this poem truly begins with my experience in a large open air
market in Kumasi, Ghana, the seat of power for the Ashanti people.
I was introduced to the market by a co-worker’s brother, Kwame, who was
kind enough to visit the market with me and to teach me about the market’s most
popular items, vegetables, gari, etc., as well as the rituals and taboos of
behavior in the market. During our visit, he got distracted and disappeared
for about a half-hour. I was left to sit in the center of the market, knowing
only a few words of Twi. This dilemma provided me with the opportunity to
observe life in the market.
“From the pit of the market,” I watched women and men bargain for
goods. I saw children dawdle by their mothers' sides. I witnessed commerce and trade on its grandest
platform with women as the chief beneficiaries.
Eventually, I got up the courage to bargain with a woman for some kente
cloth in a pattern that I had never seen. (Kente cloth is a textile typically
worn for special occasions and, centuries ago, only by royalty. See the photo
posted here.) The market woman indicated that this pattern was truly unique and
was called “Your Heart’s Desire”. She was shrewd and drove a tough bargain—needless
to say.
By the time that Kwame found his way back to me, I had let go of a few
cedi, but my wardrobe had grown so much richer.
I know from my studies of political science in the classroom that
market women, such as those found in Kumasi or Accra, are among the nation’s
most powerful entrepreneurs – well-organized and sometimes unionized. They are
and have been so powerful that in the late 1970s, Makola Market was razed by
President Jerry Rawlings, determined to reign in these entrepreneurs' power.
Today, markets like those found in Accra and Kumasi thrive and form
essential elements of the informal economy in Ghana. View the video below to get a sense of life inside Makola Market:
