Buy the way: These markets sell witches’ brews, exist to celebrate divorce
In Bolivia, a witches’ market is reminiscent of Grimms fairy tales. And in Mauritania, divorce markets are dedicated to endings and new beginnings.
Travelling through Bolivia, I soon learned that “Con yapa?” is an ancient Spanish passkey that unlocks a lot.
Ask that question of a shopkeeper after a purchase and, besides a wide smile, one can expect a small token or an extra helping of something. Literally “Is there an add-on?”, this is the Bolivian version of buy one, get one free.
The first time I uttered the incantation with great success was in a place shrouded in mystery and folklore.
In the old quarter of the Bolivian capital of La Paz is the Witches’ Market. It is a space run almost entirely by women witch-doctors or brujas, and has stood here since long before Columbus’s famous wrong turn.
The herbs, potions and ritualistic items on offer have roots in the ancient wisdom of the region’s indigenous Aymara people. On the one hand, there are herbs and plants believed to cure urinary tract disorders or act as antidepressants. On the other, little dolls and figurines wrapped in llama hair hint at darker arts.
The most popular of the figurines is the two-horned, cigarette-smoking El Tio (literally, The Uncle), a nickname for the devil. Take him home and he can put a hex on an adversary or enemy, I was told. Also on offer are brightly coloured potions in tiny glass bottles; amulets featuring the Inca sun God Inti (for energy); and desiccated frogs, said to bring good luck.
Prices range from 35 Boliviano (about ₹425) for a small figurine of a condor — for good travels; I got two for the price of one — to as much as 330 Boliviano (about ₹4,000) for more elaborate spells and artefacts.
Adding to the ambience, rosy-cheeked brujas sit on stools outside their stalls, along the cobblestone street, both charmingly and unsettlingly reminiscent of the Grimms’ fairy tales. They dress alike, in flowing skirts made from handwoven llama wool, button-down shirts, thick shawls and bowler hats.
Perhaps their most troubling wares: dried llama foetuses (from naturally occurring miscarriages, they say). These are to be buried under one’s home or business for prosperity and protection, or to heal a romantic union or a troubled marriage.
Ware to now?
A whole continent and ocean away, in the West African nation of Mauritania, I came upon another market that was nothing like what I thought a market could be.
This is a country where divorce is celebrated. Once- or twice-married women are considered more desirable than previously unmarried ones because they are believed to have acquired vital experience in running a home, and have often accumulated assets as a result of the country’s matrilineal society.
The matrilineal tilt and the view of divorce both have roots in the cultures of the Sanhaja Berber and Hilalian Arab tribes from which most Mauritanians descend.
In this tradition, a good outcome is typically considered to be one in which the woman keeps the contents of the home, and retains custody of the children, but surrenders the house itself and moves back in with her parents until she remarries.
All across the country, divorce markets help women negotiate these steps. The largest such market, in the capital of Nouakchott, offers access to women brokers who can help negotiate loose ends; thrift shops where divorcees can sell or swap household items; salons where they can cover themselves in henna before they head out in search of a new husband; and eateries where they may mingle in search of new love.
The thrift shops do a particularly brisk business, since it is considered auspicious to sell items from one’s previous marriage and start a new union with fresh wares.
Interestingly, these practices continue even though Mauritania is now largely Muslim. Islam’s instant-triple-talaq keeps divorce from becoming complicated, both the men and women say.
The system, and the market, certainly felt unfamiliar; but then again, what form of matrimony is perfect?
