I met Stephan, the Canadian truck importer, while he was "waiting for his ship to come in." We decided to venture out and see what was at the Voodoo Market. We drove up to a fenced off area about a 1/2 block square, which is unusual for West Africa's open markets. We drove in and were assured we were at the right place. Immediately, we were greeted by Joseph, who insisted upon a fee for guiding us, and just as quickly Stephan decided he has already seen enough. He jumped back into his car after assuring me he would park closeby and watch for me to meet up when I had had enough. This was no Pike Place Market like Seattle's market. With high humidity and heat it sure didn't smell like anything I had ever been to before. But I guess parking out on the street with its open sewers and seeing men and women regulary use them right out in the open was a better choice for Stephan than the market itself.
With one quick look around, I knew I would be just fine. How could I not be? I was at a Voodoo Market! It's a "pharmacy" for natural healers to stock up on supplies. When our western medicine fails to work, a healer prescribes a mixture of bones to be burnt to a powder and then rubbed over three cuts made into the flesh. I assured Joseph that I was feeling just fine, hadn't felt so good in a long time! I said I was only there as a tourist, no need to start a fire burning parts for ashes. After taking some pictures, I found Stephan and we decided on street food - chicken and beers.