Ch 10 - Children of Tegalupa

Market of a thousand Choices

Up the road from the Port of Tegalupa there is a central market place. Men from around the world come here to do trade. Small bands of merchants jokingly refer to it as Reunion De Posibilidades. Some have done well where others still hope. The meaning behind the name changes depending on the man and his luck.

The building that forms the core of this market place is as eclectic as the mix of people who populate its grounds. The first hand that built this place where colonial Spaniards. The period of build was somewhere in the late 1500's. The original plan in their mind was something of a Spanish Renaissance look. This was a common building form of the time.

Renaissance to the eye of the uninitiated is something you might associate with the ruins throughout Europe and the Mediterranean that are said to be Roman or Greek. In its classic form, you will see towering white columns. These columns are carved so that they have tall regularly spaced ribs. Delicate details are etched into their tops. Long stone planks sit across these columns. Pitched stone roofs sit on top to form a cover. Everything is white. Angles are quite sharp. Surfaces are cold. The structures have towering ceilings. The likeness of gods are sometimes found within these ruins. One can imagine throngs of people paying penance and saying prayers, looking for some defense against the unknown.

The central building in the Tegalupa market was created with a less auspicious face. Plinths are large stones that distribute weight. Each one of these stones is about the length of a grown man's leg. The stones are cut square from the limestone of which the ground is made. One can see the sea creatures and shells from thousands of years past. The history of the land sits naked, bleached, and suspended in time.

These plinths are buried deep. The foundation they create is strong. They sit outside of the native soil as high as a man's ankle. Upon these heavy stones, columns have carefully been erected. Here the artisans and engineers relied on the materials at hand. Instead of white, the columns are brown with waves of black. Apparently, Mahogany is a very dense strong wood. Mahogany trees can grow many stories tall. The roof above this market place has a height of about three. The columns are not notched with the characteristic ribs. These have been shaved of branches, but their contours are still quite rough.

Atop each column is a square capital, or crown. This is just a bit smaller than the plinth on which each column sets. They fit each column in a way that is perfectly true and flat. Atop these stone caps timbers have been attached. The timbers are notched and fit together in a way that is very tight. Along their rise a pitched roof is formed. It angles up at thirty degrees.

Fronting the beams that form the shape of the roof, flat planks have been attached. In stone work this figure might be termed a cornice. Blocks of wood like knuckles decorate the tops of these planks. It is a simple design that you will notice often when traveling through the ruins of Cyrene, Paestum, and Perge. Just a simple pattern, it finishes the illusion that this place was built at some much more distant time.

The devil is in the details. This is where the classical and current depart. There are carvings along the boards that decorate the base of the roof. They are intricate designs of strange creatures from local legends. There are birds, cows, snakes, and other creatures that few outsiders have ever seen. There is a story in the woodwork. Children sometimes sit on the outskirts of the market and stare. They tell the stories to all who will listen. Children know the stories of legends well.

Centuries have passed since visitors from overseas built this place, yet the central structure of the market has continued to hold strong. The success of the market has far exceeded the building's intended use. Without the guidance of the original vision, man's ingenuity has stepped in. Instead of expanding the structure in its original form long beams have been suspended from the corners of the old building's towering roof. There are twelve of these beams that have been erected around the sides. Canvases have been pulled across these beams. The edges of the canvases have been stitched together tightly.

The canvases used are woven by local women. The newer layers of fabric have been dyed with intricate patterns of dark ink. Once fully dried these canvases have been dyed again with brightly colored hues. To repel water and add thickness, the fabric is soaked many times in a latex sap. As the afternoon cools moisture in the air beads upon their surface. At the lowest corners of the canvases water collects and runs. There is a small torrent of water as the day begins to cool. Large clay fired basins collect the water as it runs.

As the sun sets to the west the beads of water twinkle like stars. Gravity takes hold and the stars of water ride down. Beads of water can be connected if you have the right eye. Shapes of animals and important characters will emerge. The story is always changing so you have to be quick. A woman wearing a large hat sits on a stool just outside of the market place. For a few dollars she will read the stars of water as you sit and chat. She claims she can divine your future by what happens next. Many days she has few customers, but today a line coils around to the side. You might expect the woman to be happy for such a busy day. The expression on her face is furrowed in a more concentrated way.

Hundreds of people mull about hawking and buying: machinery and leather, vegetables and scarves, anything you might imagine eventually finds its way through these stalls. Even as the last signs of the day are slowly slipping over the horizon. The market is busy. Torches are lit on the outskirts of the action. Small lamps are carefully kept in small tin grated jars. There is a hefty fee for causing a fire. People are susperstitious of the flame.

For its size the port does quite a business. If location is a key then Tegalupa may have a lock. Faces from the world are represented in the flowing masses. Tables fill the grounds both inside and out. Each vendor competes for enough room to display all they have to sell. Much of the goods passing hands may be rough and ready for the making. Name your price and someone will call.

There are familiar faces in the center of the market. The short man from the port is buried in a lively conversation. He is still attempting to unload his first bundle of goods. The tall man stands behind the short man. There is a scowl on his brow. He says nothing while his shorter partner negotiates the sale. The short man speaks with a buyer who has a shaved head and a long flowing black beard. There are questions about payment. There are questions about price. There are always layers of questions when one wants to get paid.

The short man has issue, "You said seven when we set out. We did the work that you asked. We delivered the goods. Now you tell us five."
The bald man throws his arms out to emphasize his position. Then he crosses his arms as if they are tied, "It was seven when I could charge more. Now there is less demand."

The short man intercedes, "Five is not seven! Five is much less!"

The bald man recovers, "At seven there is no margin. There is no money to be made. What do you suggest I do?"

The tall man speaks up at this point. There is no emotion in his voice, "You gave us terms. We shook hands and agreed. Your word was given. Others vouched for you before we first spoke. They said that you had honor. Are you telling us now that you are not a man of your word?"

The bald man responds without pause, "I thought you were going to supply more quantity. The quantity that we agreed upon is not what I see."

"Good for you my friend," responds the short man. "Quantity and demand are closely tied. Less quantity should fetch a much better price."

"Its not just you who come to me. There are many other suppliers that wish to deal."

Tall and short, the two men look around. Their motions are exaggerated like two explorers in a strange land. Short and tall, the two men shrug as if they do not comprehend, "If there are such suppliers we have not met any of them in port." The vendor responds with a tight smile and narrowed eyes.

For every argument there is another question. The men talk in circles as if they are doing a dance. Those outside of this transaction might see it as childish. For the merchants and suppliers involved, this game is more like a sport than a simple game of chess. The fat man stomps. The tall man nods. The bald man makes statements to which the two traders smile or frown. The game is positioning. Endurance and patience are the keys. The cardinal rule concerns the order of words. The last one to speak before signing a deal will always be the real one to lose in the end.

The dance continues for what seems far too long. An agreement is struck. Hands are heartily clasped. Good words are reverentially shared. Like best buddies the men leave the market with arms clasping each others backs. The three head down the street where shops form a line. Laughter and music mix the smells of fragrant cooking food.

Women rush forth and drinks are passed round. Music erupts and distractions are shared. The short man drinks deeply while the man with the shaved head sips and talks. The tall friend bends to his partner's ear. There is a smile on his face, but the words are quite serious, "Better to be paid in coin before men bury you like treasure." The look that the short man returns to the tall man is full of concern.