NO PREREQS

This is a small sample of the strain involved in navigating Dantokpa: a behemoth of a market sprawling the ravine through downtown Cotonou, where the equivalent of 5 million US dollars changes hands every day. The bustle of the market is unlike anything I have ever experienced: it is a sensory overload and it takes a toll on your body just to walk through it. While the smaller markets might be comparable as less organized versions of flea markets in Toronto, Dantokpa is a whole other story. I spent a good 4 hours just walking through the market and probably only covered about 20% of it.

Spend a day at Dantokpa and its a guarantee that you will come out of it having bought something you didn’t want, purchased at least one delicious frozen beverage from a Fan Milk vendor, and gotten out-haggled by someone who does it for a living. The busy nature of Dantokpa is also a great way to lose your wallet to sticky fingers well versed in the art of pickpocketing if you’re not careful enough. Equivalently, it’s a great place to meet and talk to people.

Wait, what? Yes, the thing that sets Dantopka apart from other chaotic environment I have experienced in my life is that amid all of the insanity, the merchants and vendors are often calm and approachable. This is not a stock exchange, or Bay Street, where you don’t get a second look from other people unless you’re a good friend. Numerous times during my trips to Dantokpa, I stop by a stall and use my broken French to engage in conversation with a merchant pertaining to just about anything: where they are from, what types of prices I can find for other things in the market, their perception of foreigners, and even simple stuff like the weather. Instead of being upset with me for “wasting their time” by chatting, they are delighted to take time away to engage in conversation, asking me as many questions as I pose to them. 

Is it ironic that you can find peace and kindness in the middle of chaos and commercialism? Maybe back home, but it is the norm here. The vendors at the market don’t just work at their shops, they do it for a living. Yes they are passionate about making sales, but the majority are also naturally charming and brilliant speakers, even when they are not trying to sell you something. Back home, it’s difficult to find that kind of intimacy – not because there aren’t enough flea markets – but because it’s fundamentally a different commercial culture and a different mindset.    

So maybe I did buy a belt that I didn’t even like at double the going rate. So what? The vendor was fine with joking around with me whether I bought it or not. He had emotion, he was human, and that is what is so amazing about Dantokpa. Admist all of the currency changing hands and motos nearly running people over, if you really spend some time there, it is clear that the whole place has a distinctly human feel. It’s not just a market: it’s a living, breathing, hub of emotion – and that is truly spectacular.