We were warned about places like this at Training Camp in Georgia. Noisy. Smelly. Crowded. Severely over stimulating. It’s a recipe for disaster, in terms of us Americans being made a target for theft. And unfortunately that’s exactly what happened. Nah I’m just kidding; it was a great experience! Check it…
Our team had a considerable amount of downtime this day, but the way it was spent is telling of our desire to please God. We developed a prayer calendar by which we will spend certain days of the week praying for particular aspects of our ministry, such as Pastor Thomas’s objectives and church family, our fulfillment of God’s work at the hospital here, and our own relationships with each other. We broke into two groups and did a prayer walk through the neighborhood in which we’re staying, which for the most part involved conversing with neighbors and praying to self about God’s work and protection over the neighborhood. We also spent time in worship listening to songs on the computer. I’ll have you know that we do have a talented guitarist/singer on our team who is more and more willing to burst out in song, which really adds to our team’s dynamics. Hospital ministry began after 6pm, the details of which will have a blog post of its own.
The real knitty gritty here is in regards to the local market. Several weekly outdoor markets exist throughout the city, but the one we visited is one of the larger ones. Vincent, a member of the church we’re currently a part of, dropped us off at the edge of the market and instructed us to wait for Pastor Thomas to arrive and give us some information. It was only a minute later the he did arrive via motorbike and asked us to SMS him when we were ready to leave as he only lives about 5 minutes away. It was just shy of 8pm at this time, and the sights and sounds and smells were beckoning our attention.
We entered the market from the south side (at least according to my internal compass). The first tent I saw (perhaps because it was actually the first tent in the row of dozens, but nonetheless) was bright red and had a newer but well used cooking station stretched across the front. The man behind it was flipping a familiar looking pancake like item on the large cooking surface while stirring a batch of batter on his other side. And the white lettering confirmed my suspicion: Murtabak! The slight variation in spelling (Martabak in Indonesia) was probably telling of a similarly slight variation in recipe as the aroma was a bit different, but I took it as a sign that the market would host many things appealing. My team and I continued walking northward inbetween the rows of tents. Three rows of tents along the corridor made for two separate walkways, the middle row being made up of two rows back to back. Imagine an interstate highway where the pavement is for pedestrian traffic and the grass on either side of the highway, including the median, is made up of shops. However, the foot traffic is not nearly so orderly, as the people walk in a manner very similar to how they drive here (very intent on reaching their destination unencumbered.)
The smell of fish soon overpowered the other senses, and the mind shifted focus on evaluating the plethora of sea creatures that lay (sometimes still wiggling) on the foldout tables under EZ-UP tents. The lights that were run by generators and car batteries faded into the background and the sound of people yelling for attention seemingly grew louder but strangely muzzled as I fixed my starry-eyed gaze upon the smooth silky tones gray and blue and black skin covering all manner of fish. Small stingrays were the only fish I could actually identify as the rest of them just looked like, well, fish. Long, slender, silky black fish lay squirming in a plastic tub, wiggling slowly side to side as if they grew tired trying to escape their newly discovered fate. I soon realized that my team had continued moving forward as I stood in place, amazed at the array of God’s water dwelling creatures made available for purchase in this Malaysian market. I pushed my way through the sea of people, the air made thick with a swirling aroma of water creatures, generator emissions, and various fried foods. Once I caught up with the team, we almost immediately were drawn to the “hamburger” tent. Some of the buns looked quite exotic but were simply fried to bubble up the bready crust, giving it a crunchy texture. We ordered 6 chicken burgers, as our 7th team member decided against the idea of eating street market vendor food. However, the purchase (which amounted to $4US) proved to be quite satisfying. We have all grown less wary of consuming food products containing rinsed vegetables as the water quality in this area of Malaysia seems to be causing very few problems for our stomachs, in small doses anyway. After we find seats in a dining pavilion and devour our sandwiches, we continue meandering through the market, examining the authenticity of affordable clothing. $3US for a new pair of jeans. $4US for hoody sweatshirts. $2-$4US for t-shirts and button up shirts. $2-3US for sandals and flip-flops. If all my clothes were stolen, this would be a great place to restock my backpack.
We ended up pursuing the dessert table, perhaps at the insistence of myself, purchasing chocolate cake, blueberry cheesecake, and coffee cake. This was to me an ideal ending to our market experience. We waltzed into an amazing local bakery upon Thomas’s arrival and conversed before heading back to the house (which we couldn’t enter as a result of losing the keys). And the story continues…
