Market Runs

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When I woke up this morning, the only productive thing I hoped to complete before the end of the day was brushing my teeth, but then, my aunty called and sent me on some errands that I could not refuse.

I stood up grudgingly from the bed and wiped my rough face down with my dry hand. It felt like I was grazing my own skin with sharp stones. I reached out for my phone on the bedside table but it was not there. I checked my sheets and under my pillow, but I still couldn’t find it.

I eventually found it resting on the floor and I realized that it probably fell off while I was sleeping. Going through my phone is the first thing I do the minute I open my eyes and that’s a really bad habit I’m trying so hard to correct. I checked the time and it was just a few minutes before 10 am. Perfect timing if you ask me.

I considered taking a shower, but then I thought better about it. What is the point of taking a shower if I am just going to dive into a sea of human sweat and mud by the time I get to the market? I decided not to bother and I washed my face and all the other parts of my body I was certain could smell badly. I brushed my teeth though, grudgingly.

I finally walked out of the bathroom and I was confused about what to wear. I looked through my clothes hanging in every corner of the room. On the doors, chairs, spilling from the wardrobe, hiding under the bed, and even in between my sheets. I made a mental note to pay my younger sister to get the dirty work done for me. There was absolutely no way I could get all that work done and still be able to breathe.

“Is it not the market I am even going to sef?” I asked out loud as I caught myself wondering which fit was perfect for a lazy day out at one of the messiest markets in the country, especially during the rainy season. In a moment of total recklessness, I picked two-sizes-too-small shorts and an oversized vintage shirt. I thought against wearing a bra, considering the fact that I didn’t have too much going on in the chest area if I even had anything at all. Eventually, I didn’t wear one and I decided to just go with the flow, so to speak.

I looked at myself in the mirror and giggled. I have to give it to myself. This is the craziest I’ve looked in a long time. I trudged along my dusty street in my sister’s dirty and worn-out slides. The slides were also bigger than me, so my feet looked like spoons placed in giant cups. I could care less though. I trudged along with all the confidence and swag of a homeless person.

The first indication that this day was not going to go exactly to plan was when I discovered that I didn’t even leave the house with my ATM card and I did not carry enough cash. I wanted to hit my head against a brick wall when I found out because not having enough cash would mean not being able to get half of the things I needed to get for my aunty. I had decided at the last minute to leave my phone at home, so I couldn’t even make money transfers. Fantastic. It was too late to turn back and so, I kept walking.

One of the reasons why I decided not to bring my phone along to the market was because I wanted to be free. I wanted to just experience everything without having to check my phone and the latest updates every second. If I had been with my phone, my ears would probably be blocked with my headphones and I wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation this market woman was having with her daughter about how she duped their father of 10,000 naira. I would not also hear her daughter scoff and threaten to report her to her father if she did not get a cut. Amazing stuff, I tell you.

Okay, so being in the market was actually worse than I thought it would be. I mean, does anybody still know that there is a pandemic going on??? Nobody had a face mask on, not to talk of actually sanitizing their hands. The only social distancing this market people were observing was between them and pricey market wares. The market felt like a ginormous pack of Sardines, because what is this madness?

I held the cash I had firmly with all the strength I had left because losing it would mean trekking back home. I squeezed myself between the sandwiched bodies of sweaty market women and I almost cried out in frustration. They almost killed me.

After what seemed like fifty years of deep suffering, I finally made it out of the market with some of the goods I needed. At that point, I felt like I had become five shades darker, and two sizes smaller. Nobody is going to tell me that I did not lose some pounds after that marathon. In horror, I realized that I had overspent and my transport fare was no longer complete.

I felt like sitting down in muddy water and wailing for my helpers to find me and deliver me from the predicament. I stood in disbelief for a while, quickly moving through all the stages of grief until I finally resigned myself to my fate. Wherever the money could take me, I’ll go, and probably trek the rest of the way home.

As if to mock me, the sun came out in all its scorching glory. Just perfect.

“I can do this,” I said to motivate myself.

If my forefathers could move from one place to the other without the help of automobiles, then I could do it too. And so, I started walking. I was still wallowing in self-induced suffering when I saw something that I shouldn’t even see. Something that was sure to ruin my day. My ex. Could this day get any worse?!

The last time I saw him was over five years ago. You know one of those relationships you enter because it just seemed like the logical thing to do at that particular time. You’re not exactly attracted to them, but their presence does not repulse you either. You are just stuck on the fence, sort of. And because the pressure gets overwhelming, you give in. That was my relationship with Lucky.

Now that I think of it, I don’t think I actually liked him. Yes, I loved how much attention he used to pay to me, how much he tried to impress me, and how hard he chased me. It made me feel wanted…and seen. But at some point, I got tired of having to see him every day, pretend to be nice to him and…ugh…kiss him. Double ugh.

He wasn’t looking half as bad as I thought he would. In fact, he actually looked nice. Life had been good to him, obviously. He was across the road, walking in the opposite direction. I am a hundred percent certain he saw me the exact moment I saw him too but I didn’t care. I looked away with the speed of light. Lucky has always been a persistent pain in the butt. You simply cannot get rid of him, even if you write ‘I do not want to talk to you, Lucky’ boldly on your forehead.

“Ivy!”

This boy should avoid me nah. I kept walking like I did not even hear him call my name. Before I knew what was happening, he had crossed to my side of the road, but I kept moving. He had to run up to me and literally shout my name in my ears.

“Ivy! I’m calling you.”

“What is it?!” I screamed at him.

Both of us were taken back by my response and I started laughing. He probably thought I was going crazy. He looked at me closely to be sure I was okay before he joined in my very confusing laughter.

“Lucky oh,” I said in between my bouts of laughter. Somehow, I knew I should have stopped by now but the awkwardness of the situation combined with how I looked like such a homeless person was so embarrassing, that laughing was the only thing I felt I could do without bursting into tears.

Blood Sisters

“How have you been?” He asked, with an uneasy smile on his face.

“Fine oh. How are you? You look good.”

“Thank you oh. Na God.”

Don’t even think I didn’t notice how he did not return the compliment. I want to die.

“Give me your number, so we can talk later. I really need to get somewhere urgently.” It was better to end the conversation than try to fill up the silence with nonsense.

“Oh, that’s fine. Where is your phone?”

“Let’s just use yours. I’m not with mine.”

“I’m not with mine either. I live around here, just came out to get breakfast.”

“Uhh…we’ll see when we see then. I really have to go. Bye!”

And I left him. Just like that. When I turned to give him an awkward goodbye wave, I saw him still standing in the same spot. I wanted to pull out my hair in embarrassment but the deed was already done, and so I trudged on in my oversized dirty clothes and slides to God knows where.