Words and Photos by Lola Akinmade

"Just watch out for some of the locals around the market,” Annalisa warned, as our minivan meandered through dusty streets in Masaya. “They like to accost tourists and ask for money.” I was traveling as a photojournalist with her teaching team. This was one of our days off after a long week of teaching seminars for World Hope. It was my first chance to see the market and I was looking forward to finding some beads.

Open daily from 9 am to 6pm and about 17 kilometers from Managua, the Masaya Market is a traditional fixture on the Nicaraguan landscape. Known locally as the Mercado de Artesanias (craft market), it has been alive for centuries and currently resides within an old castle building once a university but converted in 1891 into the marketplace. After a fire destroyed most of its stalls in 1966 it was partially rebuilt but then torched again in 1978 by the National Guard who believed that revolutionaries gathered there to plot against the government. It slowly rotted away until the late 80s, when the mayor of Masaya decided to clean up its stalls and make it a viable attraction. Crafts sold at the market include everything from leather and coral wares to fine ceramics, stone carvings, and traditional beads.

I snickered at Annalisa's warning. Growing up in Nigeria and commuting from Victoria Island to Lagos Mainland almost daily, I had become accustomed to children and adults alike rapping on car windows while we sat in traffic. Sometimes it was difficult differentiating between who really needed it and who just wanted to make a quick buck.

As the minivan rolled up in front of the market, no sooner had I pulled the van door back did I come face to face with six pairs of eyes staring at me, waiting for me to step out. My initial impression was that they must be local poor kids begging for money. I took in their outfits. They were smartly dressed - in clean trousers, dress shirts - which confused me. One of the boys had on a cute baseball hat and soccer jersey that looked brand new. As for the other boys, sure, there were a few signs of wear and tear like some food stains; indicative of kids being kids, but there was nothing to suggest that they were paupers.

I remembered Annalisa telling me that the Nicaraguans took great pride in first impressions and their attire. They may not have much but at least their clothes were freshly pressed and sharp looking. Did these kids belong to the artisans themselves?

As I ventured out of the van, their chanting began. “Por favor! Por favor!” They suddenly surrounded me, asking for money. It reminded me of a day when were stuck in traffic on Third Mainland bridge in Lagos: a young girl had her lips pressed against the window, chanting “Please madam! Please madam!” Even when our car began to roll, she shimmied sideways in synch with the moving car, lips still pressed against the window. Out of concern for her safety, we had to stop and give her what she wanted.  Read More...