Last day in Parakou

My last day in Parakou. In an effort to make the most of my least dizzy time of day, as soon as I'd gulped down the huge bitter morning quinine pills, I hopped a zemi and headed to the grand marché one last time. I was on a mission. The place was pretty empty, it being the day before the "fête nationale", Independence Day. I looked around nonchalantly, not too interested in anything in particular, stopped at a couple, "Baturé! Viens! Viens!" but generally kept going. I was making my way back to the basket lady. For some reason, having stopped and chatted with her a couple times, this woman hit a soft spot. She immediately recognized me (duh) and I asked her how things were going. I had taken a picture last time and somehow lost it, so I asked if I could take another because I was leaving tomorrow. She was wearing a thin-strapped nightgown looking shirt and said, "No problem! But let me change." After which, without missing a beat, she proceeded to pull it off over her head and go about putting on a nice knitted shirt and matching head scarf. She was a born model. Picking up a bundle she'd been wrapping she asked me, "Should I do this?" Setting it quickly aside, "No, maybe without is better." I told her either way and she decided on the action shot. Her old, knowing eyes smiled out at me from the pile of hand-woven baskets. I bought one and handed her the money. She started to say she didn't have any change, but I patted her hand and said, "Que Dieu vous garde." God watch over you. It could be my imagination but she, like so many others, seemed sure I would be back.

Basket Lady

Basket Lady's "Daughter"