Shoes

Shoes are fairly new additions around here. I've heard that they're still rarely used in the villages and 10 years ago children in the cities were seldom seen with shoes.

But they're here, now, everywhere. Sometimes while traveling through town you'll hit the shoe region and suddenly every vendor -- on the streets and in the streets -- is selling shoes. Many are imported and many are made in Nigeria.

The ones made in Nigeria are the ones that interest me. I've got two new pairs of flip-flop style sandals that were both made here. Love 'em. Of course, a girl can never have enough shoes.

But, that's not why I'm telling you about shoes. I brought up the topic because there are cultural lessons relating to our shoe experiences. Sadly, more lessons about lying.

While in Abuja with Jeri, Jerz found a style of sandals she loved and they were being made right there in the market. The size they tried to sell her was too small. (That's another thing about shoes, here. No one seems to mind that their feet hang over the backs an inch or two. Style and price seem to be more important than a good fit.)

For all of their attempts to persuade us, we remained firm -- her heel should rest nicely on the shoe, not dangle over it! So, they said they'd make a pair for her. We explained we were visiting and would need to get them the next day. No problem. They drew her feet outlines on a paper and said that the shoes would be ready by 4 p.m. Our driver even reiterated to them in Hausa or Fulani or something that they'd better have them done on time.

We arrived back at the market at 4:30, giving them a little extra time. After walking through the crowds and wondering if we'd ever find that little shop again, there it was! And the workers recognized us right away, pulled a bag off of a shelf, and proudly handed Jeri her shoes. Problem was, her heels still hung over the back just like they had the day before. "Oh, Auntie, dey will stretch," was the explanation this day, followed by yesterday's same old line, "dees is what lukes good. Yooz no unnerstann. Dees is de way dey be made." Right. You used her pattern to make new shoes, right? Right. And that explains that, strangely, the size scratched into the bottom has new scratch markings. You can still see the old size under the new. We might be blond but we're not stupid! Grrr! Even the driver was offended. He's not stupid and he didn't want to be seen as a co-conspirator. So we left without the shoes. Fortunately, on the way out, we stopped in a shop that sold lots of things -- baskets, purse, and ... shoes. And one pair fit Jeri ... quite well, actually!

Being lied to reallllllllllly bugs me. Which means that I'm daily bugged!

One more shoe anecdote. Last night, Prince came back from a funeral in his village. He wanted us to see the shoes that a friend of his had made for him to give Glory. I was confused. There was a label right in the place there would be a label on manufactured shoes. Something like "FashionWorks" with a subtitle that said "Euro leather" or something close to it. So I told him that the stamp told me it came from a factory. I thought maybe Prince was lying to us and he's learned how much I HATE that! "No, Madame. I tell truth. My friend made dees. He has a stamp. He has lots of different stamps, even. He be a clever man." Hmmm. Clever. To reinforce the notion that his friend is clever, Prince turned the shoes over. On the bottom was a size sticker that said, in addition to a number ... "Italy" Yep. And Prince explained that his friend has other stickers, too. Some say "France," some say "England," some say "U.S.A." Such a smart friend!

I explained that these were all lies. "But Madame, people not buy shoes made in Nigeria. Dey like shoes from Italy." I shook my head once again, told him how disappointed I was in more lies, and told him that I liked shoes from Nigeria ... but only from people who tell the truth!
I think "honesty" must not even be a translatable word!