Ghanaian market women, known as 'market queens,' undertake grueling midnight journeys from rural villages to city markets, sleeping on top of trucks and enduring harsh conditions to transport fresh produce and feed urban populations, demonstrating that the food on our tables often comes from extraordinary maternal sacrifice and resilience.
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The Midnight Caravan ( A mother's sacrifice)Added:
It's 2:30 a.m. The air is very cold and we've been on this road for the past 3 hours.
Most of the women you see have found a way to sleep on top of this truck.
I couldn't sleep. I was scared I was going to fall should this truck hit a ramp or something.
What is the hardest thing you've ever seen your mother do to provide for you?
Share it in the comment section and please subscribe to this channel for more.
Before the city wakes up and before the stores open in the capital, this is where the journey begins.
The silent engine of the economy is already running in the villages.
These are the architects of our food supply. Preparing for a journey most would never dare.
Tomorrow is a market day in Kazwa and once good has to be there on time before the market opens. So I joined Brajo and his boys on a trip to Yanoa and Ayaku in the eastern region of Ghana.
Their job is to go around the villages collecting produce meant for the market.
This is the midnight caravan. A fleet of iron and greet carrying the lifeblood of the city before the first rooster crows.
>> They aren't just transporting goods.
They are carrying the hopes of the farm and the demands of the market.
Bridged together by the drivers who knows these rules better.
Meet Yao. He is the driver for today's trip.
>> Almost 20 years about 20 21 years.
I don't know.
They have about 10 stops to collect produce on the way from the villages to the market.
Foreign speech. Foreign speech. Foreign speech.
So we often talk about the economy in numbers and percentages but tonight the economy looks like this.
>> As you can see these mothers won't see their bed tonight.
I'm going to join them on a journey from the village to the market to see what exactly it takes to feed a nation.
Say I'm Climbing into this bucket wasn't easy for me.
But to this mothers, it's just a normal hustle. Week in week out.
We have picked up some of the women here and we are moving to the next stop where most of them are waiting.
At this last stop, the cargo is offloaded and shifted to create a place for the women. Once the deck is cleared and everyone is settled, the main journey begins.
There is no luxury on this transit.
>> For this misers, the first class seat is to sit on top of a plantain sack under the open sky.
We begin our journey to the market.
In the midnight hours, whilst the world sleeps, these mothers fight the cold, the dust, and potential rain.
From up there, it's just a track on a road, but down here it's a marathon of endurance.
No bed, no blanket, just the midnight road and a prayer for a safe journey.
They didn't want to talk to camera and honestly they didn't have to. Their sacrifices speaks louder than any interview.
It's 2:30 a.m. The air is very cold and we've been on this road for the past 3 hours.
Most of the women you see have found a way to sleep on top of this truck.
I couldn't sleep. I was scared I was going to fall should this truck hit a ramp or something.
Imagine seeing your mother sitting on top of a truck at midnight. But these mothers do this twice every week in order to cater for their homes and pay school fees.
Finally, we at the market and here the truck moves to each and every trader's corner to offload their aos.
with me. Let me get my Byebye.
Because you're welcome.
At 3:00 a.m., the Kungu women are around, >> hoping to buy from the truck and sell when the market finally opens.
>> By the time the city shopper arrives, the struggle is invisible.
The dirt from the farm has been washed away. The code of the midnight road is a memory. We see the produce, but we rarely see the person. This is the hustle, the heartbeat of our land.
We call them market queens, but maybe we should just call them heroes.
This Mother's Day when you sit down to eat, remember that woman who sat on the truck at midnight so you could have that meal. To the mothers on the road, in the field, and under the market shades, we see you. What is the hardest thing you've ever seen your mother do to provide for you?
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