Durbs Decontructed – Warwick and Durban Markets

Durban is known for its markets. There is one virtually every Saturday and Sunday in various locations across the city. It’s a Hipster heaven of gourmet burgers, designer drinks and crocheted things. But what about the markets in the heart of the city?

 

Just as the ocean is the lifeblood of Durban, the markets in town are the heartbeat. To visit them is to feel Durban, taste Durban and hear Durban. This was my first introduction.

 

All tracks lead to Durban Station

 

Durban markets are a kaleidoscope of colours. We started our walk through the colour pallet at the Durban Station. The full picture of the streets hits you, as you exit the building and descend the stairs. The ever present smell of urine mixed with the oily allure of fried chips is strangely enticing.

 

 

The concrete pavement is the display cabinet for an array of traditional Zulu products such as the reed mat, grass broom, incense and beer calabash. Each vendor sells a similar grouping of products which makes no sense to the Western ways. Why display right next door to your competition? Why not diversify or differentiate?

 

 

But do not judge in your thoughts. This is not here for the interest of the traveller or tourist. These are genuine products used daily for traditions I do not know or understand. And vendors have repeat customers and referrals from happy users of their products. They have loyal supporters regardless of the price or product next door.

 

 

Sanele, my most favourite and esteemed cultural guide, taught me about the traditional uses of most of the products on display. All preconceptions were obliterated and here I was silently able to observe the beautiful craftsmanship of mat weavers and calabash polishers. This is where you can get the genuine product, at the local, uninflated tourist price.

 

 

Small price, large return.

 

We headed over to Victoria Street Market where it is safe to park your car. This is tourist central, with inflated prices and no chance of seeing the craftsmanship in action. Still worth a visit though, especially for the miniature mountains of spices to make a Durban curry.

 

 

Every street corner and free piece of pavement is a shop in this part of town. You can buy all your fruit and vegetables for crazy prices like R5 for a plate piled with tomatoes or onions or lemons. Or decanted dish soap, paraffin or jik in amounts that are small yet affordable. On a Saturday, the early morning market is open for fresh fruit and vegetables. Across the road the commuters are entertained at the bus stop by local singers and dance competitions.

 

Marketing 101.

 

With the sounds of horns and cars as a backdrop, we were met by a new sound. From the market area your ears are assaulted by about 5 varieties of beats simultaneously blasted from blown speakers and crackling television sets. Groups of bystanders are glued to the screens with intense fascination. Marketing 101 for selling cd’s and dvd’s.

 

 

This phenomenon is even more of a sensory overload when you enter the actual Berea Station. The mayhem is all crowded into a corridor. It is a mix of people and displays and life wherever your eyes wander. A bit of reprieve from the chaos is across another bridge where you get a bird’s eye view of the apron market. Rows and rows of clothing racks rammed with traditional aprons of all colours and sizes. And the place was pumping with activity and people moving about in ordered chaos. Lifeblood.

 

 

All eyes on me.

 

By far the most interesting part of the markets is the Muti or Herb Market. No photos may be taken but a thousand words will paint a vivid picture. Flashes of coloured powders and plants catch your eye as you walk past decomposing crocodile carcasses and skeletal birds affixed to stick racks. No meeting of eyes, yet as you walk you can feel the gazes transfixed on your form.

 

 

The air is warm and thick with the smell of death and something sweet. It is quieter here, a serious place. Not for laughter or light hearted banter. A healer calls us over and offers me a potion for attracting business. When I don’t accept his offer, he moves onto my sex life. Something for strength, or perhaps endurance? Marketing here or anywhere else uses the same tactic of enticement… money, power and sex. The age old lies of fulfillment and happiness apply, except here there is no beating around the bush.

 

 

Where your lunch smiles back.

 

Last stop is the real eye opener, a place where delicacies such as the cooked cow head are consumed. Concrete tables fill this open air restaurant just off the main street. On one side the butchers and cooks wield their knives preparing the feast as cow heads watch the progress. On the other end, hungry Zulu men smack their lips in anticipation. Accompanied by uJeqe (Zulu steamed bread), no stomach leaves unsatisfied. The space is devoid of women besides those serving and preparing. I wonder what makes this such a masculine meal?

 

 

So there you have it. Do yourselves the service of getting a lovely guide like Sanele to show you around, educate you on local Zulu culture and experience Durban Deconstructed.