I Have Come of Age

This post was meant to be placed yesterday but then a sister needed advice so No Strings attached had to be given priority.

Saturday is meant to be for resting; you rest and then go to your function if you have any. Somehow, to a lot of people it has become a day for house work. You sweep, mop, wash, scrub, arrange the home, shop and cook. The Saturday work list is endless.

As a young wife, I would go to the market, deep into the market looking for good bargains. I wasn’t always like that, I believe in the simple life, get what you need from the nearest store or get them delivered at home and life goes on. But when I had to travel for a long time, hubby somehow found his way to the market and when I got back he talked me into going to the market as well; a friend convinced him that shopping in the market was better and that going to the stores was wasteful. (Busybody friends, mscheew) Initially, I only went to the market for those food items that you wouldn’t find in the stores like the live chicken, fresh beef, goat meat and cat fish, but he insisted that I also shopped for provisions in the market. (No problem)

Like the very good and submissive wife that I was, (and I still am, seriously) I obliged him because I did not want to be the wasteful wife and so every Saturday, I would wade through the human traffic, crawl in and out of small stores in the market haggling over prices and being pushed around by people who were more in a hurry than I was. (Welcome to the hard life)

I would come back home with all my items and while my help prepared the ingredients down, I would go change my clothes that would reek of mixtures of other people’s body odour, then get down to cooking till about 2 am, (my helps never cooked for me then) afterwards, I would take a much deserved bath and then go to bed. I would be up again later at 7am to ensure everyone was ready for church on time.

Did I mention that whenever I got back from the market looking harassed, hubby would be so relaxed at home? He would have watched like three games of football if it was football season and he would have a bottle of beer by his side and just totally enjoying his day. He always had a huge welcome back smile on his face and the look of confirmation that he was happy about his choice of wife.

Some days when it rained, the whole market would be so messy and muddy that walking was difficult, and in some markets, you would even have to hire a pair of boots if not, you would find yourself on the muddy ground and wouldn’t even know how you got there in the first place. You would only hear distant voices saying “eh yah”, “sorry”, “pele” or “ndo” to you (hehehe). In some cases, the shame of the fall would be too much for you to get up that you would just sit there and act like you damaged a vital part of your body until someone helped you up.

Also, a lot of weird things happen in Lagos markets that give one nightmares for days. Sometimes, a town crier (or is it a market crier?) beats on his small gong and announces that there would be no market on a certain day due to one traditional ceremony or the other. Sometimes, jobless men in masquerade costumes harass people for money and their victims are usually the women. This surprises me because where I come from, women run from masquerades which the masquerades consider a mark of respect and then they let them go. But here the more you run, the more they chase you till they get that money from you.

On a particular day, while I waited for an old lady that sold okra to me to give me my change, I noticed a parade of some strangely dressed people coming down towards where I stood, people made way for them and I also did. I found it interesting that a young boy who wouldn’t be more than five years old was with the parade, although he had his face fully covered, you could tell that he was not a dwarf but just a child and he also held something that looked like a sword; he held it in a way that could only be achieved through frequent practise. There were some incantations going on and as I stared, I wondered why such a child should be made to be a part of this strange spectacle.

I was lost in my thoughts when the old woman started shouting and raining abuses on me, saying things like, “Won’t you take your change and go home?” “Abi na look you come look for market?” “Na your head you go take carry wetin you dey find” She was so mad at me, I didn’t realise that she had been trying to give me my change while I at stared sheepishly at the jaunt going on. I was beyond embarrassed; I took my change and quickly left that side of the market to the provision side.

Still disturbed by the old woman’s behaviour, I narrated my earlier experience to this other woman who sold provisions to me and she gave me an explanation that confuses me till this day. She said that the old woman protected me by scolding me so publicly just so the people I was looking at would know that I was a first time offender. Haba! Am I in a law court? She said that they would have used juju (African voodoo) on me if the old woman had not reacted that way. (Hmm, strange)

Not like I believed the balderdash and no I am not afraid of voodoo but that was my last time of going to that market. Like Igbo people say “Nkwucha aburo ujo” which means “Precaution does not mean fear”

On this particular Saturday, as I rested on my bed, I reminisced on my previous busy Saturdays and all I could say was “Amaka you have paid some of your dues in marriage” (Shaking My Head (SMH).  

These days, I do not compulsorily do the market; I only go when I cannot trust someone else to get exactly what I want and when I do, never to that voodoo market.

Sometimes if hubby insists, I talk him into taking me on a romantic drive to the decent market I discovered and since we are both busy during the week, we bond during the ride. (Am I not LOMANTIC? lol)  

I no longer cook till 2am or 3am and I do not even have to prepare the food myself, so far as I present delicious meals as and when due.

On the days I cook, everyone waits patiently for the big masquerade as she cooks up a storm in the kitchen! (That's right)

Some things just come with age and I must say that I, AMAKA have come of age!

HAPPY NEW WEEK EVERYONE!!!