Market Square
To experience a city, you go to the market. Nothing brings together its sights, sounds, and smells. Markets are like pulsating organisms shedding their energy as you meander through their veins. It’s best to have a knowledgeable guide lest you get swallowed up inside.
The market in Lagos, Nigeria, has no definable beginning or end. The vendors simply increase in density from the parameter to the nucleus. But even this is a complex choreography that shifts like the alluvial shore of the sea. There is no wasted space. The fixed structures serve as the backbone and are ensconced by semi-permanent vendors who mark their territory with carts and colorful umbrellas. Filling in the crevices is an army of individuals utilizing every anatomical extremity to display their offerings as they move in concert like ants. Can you feel the rhythm and beat of the market? There is a cadence unifying this dance.
Traversing a large distance in the market is best accomplished via the rickshaw. The Nigerian rickshaw is a motorized tricycle with a welded-on metal box. It’s designed for 6, but occupancy limits are arbitrary. There is a two-man team working in tandem. One man is driving, and the other (typically a small boy) is hanging on the side conducting the operation. To say there are stops would be misleading; there are varying degrees of motion. The conductor communicates through a version of Morse Code by beating the metallic roof. One pop! Go! Three pops and slow your roll! If words are exchanged in some tribal tongue, frustration and sighs are surely to follow.
Our team made it to our destination thanks to our guide, Sesough. He knew the labyrinth like the back of his hand. As the others bartered, I was invited by an elderly shopkeeper to share a bench. She knew some English, and she wanted to know about America. As we talked, a group of small children peered out of the neighboring shop. She said the kids may have never seen many “oyinbos” before. Oyinbo is the name for a white man in the common language of Nigeria. They were unfamiliar with my skin tone and were naturally inquisitive. As their leader horizontally breached the wooden beam framing the opening of the shop, I tilted my head, raised my eyebrows, and stuck out my tongue. The boy quickly retreated into the shop’s cavern. I suspected his curiosity would embolden him again, so I methodically maneuvered in place to press my back against the exterior wall of the shop. When the boy breached the threshold again, he discovered this crazy oyinbo staring back and smiling. That was enough to kindle the flames of friendship.
Even brief interactions reveal God’s image inherent in human beings. There is far more that unites us than divides us. As I observed the play of my new friends, I was reminded that God makes no duplicates. God was present with those children in the market of Lagos because each was precious in His sight. God isn’t confined to time and space. He’s actively working in all of creation. It’s a joy to see the evidence of God’s Spirit in the markets of Nigeria, streets of Pakistan, and fields of Chad. Fill in more places like Mexico, Vietnam, Papua New Guinea, Belgium, Kenya, Japan, and the same holds true.
God is already at work. He’s inviting us to come and play. There is a soberness that comes with picking up our cross, and yet God’s joy is always prevailing and pervasive. Joy doesn’t come to us in our pursuit of comfort, but by joining in the activity of God that is always around us. Sometimes all it takes is a smile.