18/04/2023
The woman adjusted her head gear and stood up to stretch for the third time that morning. Her name was Mama Orobo. That was what everyone called her. She was hoping if she stood up to stretch again she might catch the attention of a passerby and they would stop to buy the day old tomatoes she was selling. It didn’t matter that they were day old. She could convince any customer that they had been brought in just that morning. Well… almost any customer. The last person to visit her stall was a middle-aged man hoping to buy some tomatoes. When he complained that they didn’t look so fresh she laughed and said with a condescending tone “It is fresh o! Oga if your wife sabi good thing she go know”. Indirectly implying that he was a man who wouldn’t know the things of the kitchen because that was women’s business alone. The man had looked at her directly in the eye and replied “ I know good things and this is not one of them. Rubbish. I am not married and I am buying it for myself” His tone was angry and he stormed off after that. Mama Orobo was startled that he had even replied her. She quickly called after him, “Of course you are not married. That attitude will not take you anywhere.” Beside her, the man in the next stall chuckled but stopped immediately he saw Mama Orobo’s glare. She was not in the mood today. After she realized that stretching was not getting anyone’s attention, she began to look at passers-by directly in the eye. Most would hurriedly turn away, not having the heart to directly refuse her stale tomatoes while others would return the stare with a crude remark. “What are you looking at?” Sigh. Nigerians are so angry. She looked over to her neighbor’s stall. He was getting a few customers, more than her anyway. Her neighbor was a butcher named Fish. Everyone called him Fish the butcher. No one knew why. He only sold beef and no one ever asked why either. Mama Orobo guessed it was because of the scar he had on his hand. Was it shaped like a fish? No. but she had chosen to use that as an explanation for his strange name. Fish the butcher smiled at her and she ducked her head so he could not see her smiling back. When she looked back he was already attending to another customer. Yet he still turned back to catch her gaze. This time she smiled back and signaled that he should attend to the waiting customer. He laughed heartily “Mama Orobo…” He trailed off and continued with his customer. Were they friends? Not really. They did occasionally meet in the dark aftermath of market days to… Mama Orobo’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by an irritated voice. “Madame are these for selling abi I should go?” The voice belonged to a young fair girl whose face looked like she was already second guessing her choice to stop and look at the obviously stale tomatoes. Mama Orobo quickly tried to save the situation with a hearty laugh “Ah no oh my daughter. God brought you to me today. Come and open market for me.” The girl ignored her and continued to size the tiny tomatoes with her hand “Are you sure these are fresh at all?” “Look at you. Go and show your mummy and she will know that they are fresh.” When Mama Orobo saw that the girl wasn’t convinced, she launched into a story of how they were not regular tomatoes and the taste they added to your stew was impeccable. It worked. The girl wanted a small basket for five hundred naira. She palmed a one thousand naira note into Mama Orobo’s eager hands and stood akimbo, waiting for her change. Mama Orobo’s loose blouse had slid off one shoulder revealing a strap of her brassier, a faded orange bra that was lined with dirt and brown flowers if you looked close enough. The girl helped Mama Orobo arrange the sleeve of her blouse so that the bra was out of sight. “Thank you my daughter". The girl gave a look that implied she didn’t appreciate being called ‘daughter’ by random market women but she pursed her lips and didn’t say anything. Mama Orobo ducked her head into her little waist bag to get the change, doing it so coyly that no one, not even the girl who was standing so close to her could tell how much money she had in her purse. She didn’t want anyone to know that she didn’t have a lot of money. By the time she brought her head back up, her customer’s attention was drawn to the stall next door. Fish the butcher’s stall. A small commotion had started there. A woman’s shrill voice could be heard over the din “Tell him now to produce the woman he has been putting his thing inside!” Mama Orobo quickly closed her purse and edged over to see what was happening. She loved market fights actually, they made her otherwise boring days interesting. Yet she was surprised to see that the people arguing were none other than her own neighbor Fish the butcher who had his shirt in a chokehold by a woman she recognized as Fish the butcher’s wife. They had met on a few occasions and referred to each other as “my sister” but she wouldn’t really say she knew a lot about the woman. Fish the butcher’s wife was screaming and lamenting that she had found a pair of women’s panties in Fish the butcher’s pocket the night before. In her other hand was a pair of what Mama Orobo presumed to be the panties in question. Mama Orobo immediately did a 360 turn. Unfortunately, this was one market fight she would have to stay out of. But she was too slow because Fish the butcher’s wife had spotted her and immediately pulled her from the crowd using the same hand that held the panties. While she still held Fish the butcher in her other hand, she pulled Mama Orobo and began to cry into her chest. “Mama Orobo help me oooo. Somebody has stolen my husband. You are his neighbor, tell me who it is.” Mama Orobo shouted in shock. “You don’t mean it my sister. You mean this man like this is following other women?” This seemed to fuel Fish the butcher’s wife’s wails again as they only intensified while she kept demanding to know whose panties her husband had been sniffing at night. Fish the butcher said nothing, allowing his wife’s dramatics to continue. Because Mama Orobo didn’t know what else to do, she too began to cry. “My heart weeps for you my sister. How can this man do this to you! After all you have done for him.” She wiped her tears then wiped Fish the butcher’s wife’s tears hoping that would calm her down but it only got louder. Now Mama Orobo was planning how she would leave the grip of this wailing woman and slip away. Right now all she could do was cry with her while women in the crown encouraged them with shouts of “Yes!” “He must confess!” “Men are so wicked!” Luckily for Mama Orobo, another woman who was recognized by Fish the butcher’s wife came into view and Fish the Butcher’s wife threw herself all over her wailing. “See me see something o my sister” Mama Orobo took that opportunity to slip away. She slipped out of Fish the butcher’s wife’s grasp and went back to her stall where her customer was still waiting, but was now excited to see her. “Ah mummy! You know these people?” She had seemed to forget about the change she was earlier waiting for. “Yes o” Mama Orobo had began to pack up her stall. She needed to get away from the drama. But the girl only wanted more gist. “So that is his wife?” “Yes” “And he is busy following another woman?” “Yes” Mama Orobo poured her unsold tomatoes into a sack and began to tie it. “Kai!” the girl clapped her hands together as if dusting crumbs off them “Men are so stupid” “Yes my dear” Mama Orobo lifted the sack to her head, she needed to get away before Fish the butcher’s wife found her again and used her as a crying support. She wasn’t sure she could muster any more tears this afternoon. With her free hand, Mama Orobo squeezed three hundred naira into the girl’s palm. It was supposed to be five hundred naira but Mama Orobo decided to keep the extra two hundred naira for herself. The girl wouldn’t notice anyway. She was too engrossed in the scene unfolding before her. Fish the butcher’s wife had now shifted her chokehold from Fish the butcher’s neck to his crotch. She was now addressing the crotch directly. “You must tell me who and who you have been visiting. Or else I will cut you off with my bare hands!” Mama Orobo began to edge away from the stalls. Pulling the girl to the side, she asked her to keep her change properly in her bag to avoid pickpockets as they were very common in this market. “Thank you mummy.” The girl still entertained, clapped her hands and absent mindedly shoved the change which was short of two hundred naira into her bag. She wouldn’t notice the missing money till Mama Orobo was long gone. Mama Orobo had now put a little distance between her and the scene. She looked over her shoulders and saw that Fish the butcher’s wife still held him by his crotch. Fish the butcher looked up and locked eyes with Mama Orobo. She winked and gave the littlest smile then immediately turned and walked away, putting some more distance between her and the scene and swaying her hips as she walked, with one hand supporting the sack she had on her head. The sleeve of her blouse had slipped again, revealing the strap of the faded orange bra with brown flowers. If any of the onlookers had been more attentive they would have noticed the colour of the panties that Fish the butcher’s wife held in her hands. They would have noticed that it was a faded orange with dirty brown flowers. And if they had been paying more attention they would have noticed that the strap of Mama Orobo’s bra was the same color as that of the panties, with the same faded and dirty brown flowers. They would have noticed that they were indeed cut from the same cloth. But no, they didn’t notice. They were too busy with the scene before them. Mama Orobo didn’t bother to hide the exposed strap as she was well away from the market now. She needed to go home and make soup for her husband. She would make Fresh Okra soup for him with her remaining unsold tomatoes. He was the one who had bought the matching pair of brassier and panties for her, but Fish the butcher seemed to like it more. Yes, Okra soup would be fine for dinner.