Entering the market of Basurto in Cartagena is like stepping off the edge of society and dropping into the abyss of humanity. Inside one finds all aspects of our species; from the destructive abundance of the fish fields- with machetes raining down, flashing, sending scales scattering, raindrops smattering on your feet – To the endless aisles of fresh vegetables softly lofting their sweet smells, purging the air of the impurities imposed by the countless butcher blocks and their carcass stench. And the heat, one can never forget the heat.
A respite is grabbed in the shadows aside a mountain of peppers, in the shadow of the mountains of dill, cilantro, leeks, and yerba buena. Scattered between and ringed around these bales of sustenance destined for the bellies of a million souls, one finds, well, everything and anything: Pots, keys, sting blenders and Rosaries; Mangos and hammers, Summer skirts and shock absorbers – and everywhere there is people – Gesticulating, selling, buying, storytelling, people. Men with fish, boys pushing wooden carts for tips, old men packing charcoal, and woman brewing witches pots of stew .. It is only the elasticity of the human mind cushions the shock of Basurto!
One navigates the labyrinth of this old world market and knows that they are inside the engine that the rest of the world is powered by.
Avenida Pedro de Heredia, Cartagena, Colombia