Sands of Redemption

7

'Come on, let's go before it gets too hot,' Natalie said, pulling Georgia out onto the street.

'Where do you reckon is the best place to go?'

'Let's try the Grand Bazaar first. We need to hurry. Her birthday is only a couple of weeks away. If we don't get her a gift now, we'll never do it.'

The Grand Bazaar was located within the Cultural Centre at the intersection of two major roads. A hive of colour and bustling activity, it was crowded, noisy and outrageously hot. Wall to wall stalls were selling anything from colourful lanterns to tailored suits to ceramic dishware. As the two girls flowed with the slow-moving crowd, shopkeepers flashed them brass bracelets and satin garments from behind their counters, hollering their prices.

As Natalie argued with a man who was trying to convince her his scarf was made of real silk, Georgia watched as three young children tried to accomplish a cheeky game of hacky-sack amidst the crowd.

As she watched, she noted an Abassan man wearing a baseball cap staring at her from within his stall. When she looked at him, he gave her a wolfish grin, then gripped his groin and gave it a hard shake. Georgia scowled and gave him the finger before Natalie dragged her away.

Back outside, Natalie unfurled her scarf, showing it to Georgia.

'I didn't find anything for Rana but what do you think of this for me?' It was purple, her favourite colour, and lined with sequins and coloured beads.

'It's nice,' Georgia replied distantly, an angry knot coiling in the pit of her stomach.

After draping her scarf over her hair and around her neck, Natalie teased out her chocolate fringe. The colour sat so well with her complexion it brought out purple highlights in her hair and eyes. 'I might try some jewellery shops down the road. They're not far.'

'Fine.'

Natalie looked at her closely, frowning. 'Are you okay? Are you sure you want to do this?'

'I said I did, didn't I?'

'You're angry.'

Georgia sighed. 'It's nothing, Nat. I'm sorry for snapping. It's not you. Come on, let's try the jewellery stores.'

On their left, the traffic roared passed them, as horrendous as ever, blasting their horns and blowing hot fumes into their faces. On the pathways they had to fight their own traffic as they weaved in and out of a never-ending surge of people. Natalie strolled happily along, while Georgia marched beside her, struggling against her growing fury.

Ever since Mohammed's abuse, there had been a bulge in her throat, and it was only getting bigger. She suddenly thought of home, missing it like an ache in her chest. She hadn't noticed it before but some Abassans weren't nice, particularly to tourists. In the lane next to them, a car roared by, horn blazing as a man hanging mid-length out of his window screamed, 'Sharmuta, sharmuta! Woooo sharmuta!'

Georgia knew the word—whore.

Georgia thought she had become used to the country's rampant sexism over the past three weeks. She thought she had become used to the stares, the lewd smiles, the sexual posturing and come-ons, the sly brush-ups against her as she tried to mind her own business. Clearly, she was wrong.

Following Natalie across the road, Georgia gritted her teeth. 'Are we close yet?'

'Almost. It's just a bit further in, not far from the Religious Centre.'

On the other side of the road, the crowds were no better. Pulling away from the main road, they crossed through a marketplace, another Souk, its busy aisles filled with women shouting to be heard as they haggled with shopkeepers. It was a veritable tent city, and to Georgia's eyes disordered and chaotic. All around them were benches upon benches of fruits and vegetables and cheese and overflowing cauldrons of nuts. In one corner rose a towering pyramid of pumpkins, some twice the size of her head.