Fascinating Humanity

Market in Pisac, an Andean village in the Inca Sacred Valley of Peru’s Cusco Province.

View many more pictures below, at the end of the following article.

Markets are great windows on foreign cultures. There, among country people who dress and behave and speak in ways less subject to outside influences, I have learned much of what I know of the world.

South American markets are among my favorites. They are as different from each other as are their villages and people. They vary more over any hundred- mile stretch between Colombia and Argentina than they do between any two points of the immense Canadian-American territory, or between any European countries. Such great differences are due to the varied geography, climate (determined by latitude, altitude, or both), races, cultures, and dress. But also in the agricultural and manufactured products sold and the type of vehicles or animals used for the transportation of people and merchandise.

Markets in South America may offer horse saddles and bridles, donkey packs, and lassos (distinct styles between Mexico and Argentina); colorful textiles and rugs; Panama hats; jewelry; llama wool and fat; coca leaves; dolphin-sized fish, and an impressive array of grains, vegetables, fruits, and spices. Baskets and hats have all regional designs.

Not all markets offer varied products. In Colombia, for example, Armenia has one dedicated only to plantains, while that of El Peñol only offers cases of tomatoes. Yet they are as quaint and striking as any. Their own colors come from the looks of their chivas, shiny refurbished World-War-II Willys jeeps, and their people attire.

The chivas are rural buses built of artistically painted wood over truck beds. The passengers who do not fit inside, on way too tightly spaced wooden benches, crowd up on the roofs over fifty-kilo bags of coffee and rice. The Willys sway dangerously under awesome loads tied with ropes and of people precariously balancing at the back. And the typical male campesino has his own distinctive way to dress—sombrero, ruana (poncho), a sheathed machete on his belt, and, hanging from his shoulder, a leather wallet big enough to hold a couple of books. Those Paisas, as they are known, may occasionally be as blond and tall and wealthy as the average German, and yet walk the streets barefoot.

At any market down south, you'll see more than one opportunist. At that of Sevilla, another Colombian town, I saw a horse wearing a sign that said that it would be raffled on the day and for the same winning number as that of a national lottery

Not accustomed to seeing many foreigners, Colombian markets are among the friendliest. Vendors and shoppers always call me over for a chat. And though not rich, they often insist in buying me a beer or a Coke.

Traditionally, markets have been held in town squares. Some towns, like Riobamba, Ecuador, hold them in seven different squares on the same day, according to the product. Others, in the same country, like Ambato, sprawl them all across town, closing many streets that day. Yet others, like Quibdó and Bocas de Satinga, in Colombia's Chocó rain forest, hold them in dugout canoes, on the banks of their rivers.

Markets dealing with animals can be the most comical, though they are often less colorful and sweet-smelling. There the locals, surrounding by idlers, get so involved bartering over a cow or a pig, vehemently defending their individual interests at a foot from each other's faces, that they make me feel invisible. And there is a whole study to be made on the way sheep and pigs are brought to market—tied to, or pulled from, a bicycle; held up by their rear legs and pushed as wheelbarrows; carried on the back in ponchos or on the head in baskets; hung by the legs, head down, on the side of those dreadfully uncomfortable chivas, or ensconced among packed passengers. I have seen twenty chickens inside a tied plastic bag, each head emerging from a tiny hole given her to let her breathe. Surely the chivas' owners have never ridden in the backs of their vehicles. No doubt the farmers have never paused to study the near-human fear and indignation painted on the faces of those poor animals. It would move them more deeply than even their loudest protests.

And there is more, for South American markets can also be great occasions for celebration. For many South Americans, markets are not only places to buy fresh food and barn animals, but also to see the healing-herb peddler, the lottery vendor, the fortune teller, the card trickster, the snake handler, the cock fight, and of course your old friends, often with accompanying music. When liquor gets into the mix, a woman will take off her husband’s hat and place it on top of hers. Hats are always the first things that drunkards lose.

If there is any place outside home where food can be called homemade, it's at the South American market. And it's the kind of food your grandmother used to serve. Fresh and hot and wholesome—and aromatic as the herbs and vegetables that go into their preparation. And clean too, for the women prepare it in front of you. At those markets there's always a chance to try something new, like the meat of llamas, goats, or guinea pigs—or tacos, tamales, arepas, sancochos, chupes de chivo, empanadas, locros, and papas a la Huancaina.

South American markets have evolved with the times and with the fortunes of their countries. Some markets, as in Otavalo (Ecuador) and Pisac (Peru), have become so popular among foreign tourists that much of their wares are increasingly focused on the needs of the newcomers. No matter, like all markets, they say much about their countries.

San Telmo Antiques Market in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Carrying Sheep to market near Potosi, Bolivia

Quechua Indian vendor inside village market stall near Potosi, Bolivia.

Village market near Potosi, Bolivia.

Buying crabs at market in Salvador, Brazil.

Plantain transported by canoe from a houseboat on Brazil’s Rio Negro at Manaus is then carried on men’s backs to the market above the river.

In Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Deprtment, a Guambiano mother and daughter are walking to the weekly market.

At Silvia, a town of Colombia’s Cauca Department, tipsy Guambiano Indians return home from the market singing their happiness. The man on the right carries a bottle of aguardiente, a sugarcane liquor favored by most Colombians.

At Indian markets in South America, many men get drunk. As the first things Guambiano Indians lose there are their hats, their wives or daughters snatch them off their heads on arrival and keep them safely over their own hats. Like the previous picture, this one was also taken in Colombia’s Silvia.

Standing at a corner of Colombia’s Silvia market, Guambiano Indians observe the action there.

Bringing a pig to market in a village of Colombia’s Huila Department.

Taking a horse to market in Sevilla, an Andean town in Colombia’s Cauca Valley Department. The sign on the horse says Me Rifan con Libertador, meaning "They raffle me with Libertador,” a lottery. That is, the Libertador lottery's winning number will also decide who wins the small local raffled horse.

In Antioquia, a small Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department, a man carries home his market purchases on an ox past other people waiting for a bus with their own adquisitions.

At the tomato market of El Peñol, in Colombia’s Antioquia State, farmers await buyers while chatting over their crates. A ruana thrown over each man’s shoulder like the napkins used by restaurant waiters, is always useful, even if only to wipe the sweat off their brows.

Talking business outside a café at the market of Fredonia, a small Andean town in Colombia’s Antioquia Department.

Hat vendor at the plantain market of Armenia, a big Andean town in Colombia’s QuindÍo Department.

Plantain market at Armenia, a big Andean town in Colombia’s QuindÍo Department. Refurbished World-War-Two Willys jeeps are the vehicles of choice. They can be filled to their arches with plantain of coffee while giving six or more men enough bars to hang on from the outside.

Near the Salvajina Dam, in the mountains of Colombia’s Cauca Department, a chiva, or rural bus, built of wood over a truck bed, is on its way to Cali with passengers and bundles of coffee.

Corn vendor circulating around the market of Colombia’s Caribbean city of Cartagena.

On the way to market, this man is poling a coconut-filled canoe on a mangrove-lined estuary on Colombia’s Pacific Coast near Guapi, in the Cauca Department.

At the floating market of Quibdó, on Colombia's Atrato River in the Chocó rain forest, Afro-American farmers are selling sugarcane, plantains, pineapples, and coconuts.

On market day at Otavalo, an Otavalo indian town in Ecuador’s Imbabura Province, a tarot reader enhances his worldliness with a fake reduced Jivaro head under a lamp globe. To the Andean crowd around him, Ecuador’s Jivaro are as mysterious as Australia’s aborigines.

Melancholy seems to affect this Otavalo man and the piglet he bought at Ecuador’s Otavalo market as they wait for a bus to bring them back home.

A snack-eating Otavalo Indian woman of the Ecuador town of Otavalo, in Imbabura Province, peeks outside the tapestries she is selling at the local market, which tourism has turned into Latin American’s largest and most popular.