Moving through the maze

Jenna and I had very ambitious plans for our Saturday, which centered on a visit to Waterside market for as much fabric as we could carry. We thought we'd start early and try to beat the crowds. Forgetting that Liberians tend to wake up before sunrise, our 9:30 a.m. start time probably didn't qualify as early. Walking down Randall Street, no one paid too much attention to us, except for some aggressive sunglasses peddlers. As we got closer to Waterside and the general business district, both the foot traffic and horn honking intensified. Despite the fact that there is a complete lack of marked lanes, crosswalks, signs and traffic lights, there is a functional traffic system (well, it may depend on how you define "functional," but cars get from point A to point B at least). When you're actually driving in a car, it doesn't seem as chaotic, but when you are a pedestrian you are actively part of life on the street, simultaneously looking out for your safety and seeking out gaps in traffic so you can move from one clogged street to another.

Descending into the maze of streets that make up Waterside, you can literally feel the crowds thickening and the space between you and the next person shrinking. Mopeds zip past, honking if you are lucky. Boys with wheelbarrows full of goods edge past you, and men pushing jugs of water up the hill on metal carts maneuver deftly around. You wonder how people can move so quickly and firmly wearing only flip flops or sandals. Pools of rainfall from the previous night's storm gather in potholes and along the curbs, another element to negotiate beyond the crowds, vehicles, and people selling everything from kitchenware to jeans to toothpicks.

We ended up making a second trip to Waterside, negotiating around potholes and puddles we barely missed earlier that day. On our drive up the hill, out of the market, the entire right half of the street was full of pedestrians and wheelbarrows. Alfred managed to squeeze our pickup truck past a car coming down the hill in the one open lane that remained, without batting an eye. As I watched the streets teeming with people disappear behind us, I began singing along to the music playing in the car.