Rose.
Mama Richie walked quickly to the market. If legs were wings, then she flapped them hurriedly. Her last child, Onome, was held behind her by two wrappers tied in an intricate manner to keep her child from falling. She crossed the road hurriedly without looking and waved inadvertently to the okada man that was throwing invectives at her for almost hitting his dead engine motorcycle. She walked quickly, her gaze focused ahead of her as she gathered cloud and dust behind her. It seemed the earth was aware of her mission for no nail or stone stood in front of her. Today was Wednesday. And ever since the shutdown, the federal government only allowed markets to open on Wednesday and Saturday between 10 and 2 pm. The time was almost eleven and this propelled Mama Richie to run, stop, walk and then run again. This was her only chance to make money to sustain her family again till the next market day. Her husband hadn’t gone to work in three weeks and the likelihood of him getting paid was looking for a pebble in the sky. So, she forged ahead her path to the market with her sadness and prayer lines etched across her face and causing a million invisible lines dragging their weight across her forehead. Mama Richie’s pace grew as she gladdened at the thought of her many customers that would buy her wares. Some had called her a few days after the government had issued a market lockdown. They called to express sympathies but she wished they called to give money instead. This was a time of want and not words. Mama Richie shared an open stall with three dozen other women. Many of them were widows and this was their only source of livelihood. They all sold different wares ranging from stock fish, panla, beans, rice, moimoi, fufu and sorts. Each one sold more depending on how loud the voice cries or how alluring the wares look. Another thing Mama Richie looked forward to was the gossip that always kept the women company. Stories so intense it kept their seat and lives from falling apart. The first week of the lockdown, all of them had independent stories and theories regarding the state of the nation. Some exaggerated to gain attention, some lied so that they would not be excluded from general discussion and some listened with open minds. At the end of the day, each took what the other said with a little pinch of disbelief. That was then, when all of their thoughts filled the well of their discussion. But now, a certain woman stood out among them. Her name was Rose. No one noticed her before the pandemic. In fact, the women rarely noticed each other before stories arose to show how complicated and similar their lives could turn out to be. Mama Richie now looked forward to the tales that swam out of Rose’s lips. In fact all of them did. Rose’s stories about the virus were different. Most of them had no television in their homes hence Rose became the bearer of their doom and miracle. While all of them worried about the increasing prices of goods and the reduction in demand that would drawl out from the pandemic, Rose spoke of the idea that the virus could just be theoretical not real. A ploy that the government had constructed to increase prices and fill their pocket with more funds. The words she used drag all eyes to her wares and they noticed for the first time, this middle aged woman who seemed to have no family or lines on her face but knew more than their ignorant minds could afford. She used big words and that was the trophy that won their attention. In the days to come, Rose’s stories about the virus kept their life and mind afloat. In her stories, the found comfort. In her tales, enlightenment defeated ignorance. In her presence, hope sat on a stool higher than the flickering legs of despair.
Rose said “I have a television in my home. Never once have they showed pictures of people infected with the virus. All fake news. All they show is empty beds and numbers. I’m sure that this is a well-orchestrated ploy. I am sure of this.” She hit her hand aggressively on her flat chest as a sign of authenticity, staring around, daring anyone to doubt her knowledge. No one did. In fact, they all stopped adding their own contributions after that day and left the entire floor to Rose. Seeing the market as her stage, Rose played the actor, the actress and rarely the audience. Rose kept the women late for they were indeed mesmerized. For where illiteracy is the soil, ignorance would always sprout, bearing seeds of fear, doubt and uncertainty. This was a time where words mended belief.
The market rose to life as sands made way for the burdens of steps that threatened to kick the earth. It was a war of steps and sweat. Mama Richie got to the market around eleven thirty. If bikes were allowed, she would have gotten there earlier. But the lockdown had also restricted business for people that anchored public transportation. Tired, she walked to the section in the market. Her heart started beating fast when she saw the cloud of dust that had already gathered. Rose had started enlightening the women of the condition of the nation. This made her sad than her lateness. She quickened her pace and opened her ears as she started arranging her goods and tried to catch splinters of Rose’s tale. They came out like a message on a broken transmitter. She moved her seat closer and leaned in to listen to the conversation.
Rose started “I was watching the news yesterday when I noticed something” She paused and added “You know I always watch the news”. Everyone commended her amiable effort and complemented her. Rose paused, drank some water and took time before spitting it out. A part of it touched a woman behind her. But she dared not complain for the sacrifice was worth the knowledge that Rose was going to empower them with. Rose continued “I noticed eh, that in china, they have all recovered. They once had 80, 000 cases and now they have none.” A woman tried to interrupt but she was hushed immediately. Mama Richie eyed the woman sternly.
Rose continued “I believe that China have a cure. But they do not wish to share it. They want the world to beg them and let china rule them before they agree. I saw it with my two naked eyes on the news.” The women hissed and some stumped their feet so hard on the floor that their legs hurt before they remembered that they had no idea where china was or who their president is.
“I must warn you my fellow women" Rose continued “The people in government are going about testing people. Don’t allow them test you. They want to give you the virus. Why else do you think they closed the churches? Because they know that God will show these to the pastors and their evil plans would be revealed to the world. That is why. Or can you think of any? They said the office of the accountant general caught on fire. The same people that said monkeys and snakes swallow funds meant for the poor? Of course they have eaten the money. Or can snakes swallow money now?”
Mama Richie was ashamed at this. She was one of those people who had believed that snake indeed had swallowed the money. She had grown up in a home where spiritual and diabolical traits weren’t ignored. She believed that a man had turned into a snake, swallowed the money and disappeared. Now, she saw her ignorance as naked as her foolishness. She wished she had met Rose earlier. No. She wished she was Rose. All the women sold wares simultaneously and listened to Rose. Rose’s ware was empty. She had come earlier and sold all her wares to the early buyers. Most of the women had near empty goods now. Only Mama Richie’s store was full. She worried less about that and pinned her ears to the ground as Rose’s words fell on them.
“Do you people remember the Chinese doctors in the country? I heard that 7 of them have the virus. Their plans were to infect us with the virus. Virus that came from those idiots that eat bats. We will all be fine"
Time grew jealous and ran quietly and quickly. Tales and wares were sold until each vessel turned empty. Mama Richie had one last ware to sell. She tied the last stock fish in a black nylon and retied it. She packed all her profits and tied them similarly in a black nylon too. All the women had sold all their wares but Rose’s tales put their legs on lock and they all slipped into it willingly. There was nothing exciting waiting for them at home anyways apart from empty bellies and loud cries and husbands who couldn’t wait to hear their children’s snore before plunging deep into their wives.
Rose spoke with a weary voice. Some of the women had offered her food in the course of her tales to keep her from getting tired or leaving early. Her hands were still oily from the Okpa and akara that she had eaten and an empty bottle of lacasera slept under her. She spoke loudly, pretending to appear oblivious of the crowd that was gathering beneath and above her, aware of the attention that her hook caught and feeling powerful. Each gaze that sought her made her powerful.
“My people, Many pastors have begged the government to allow them visit the isolation centres to heal this sick people. But they have refused. Because the government knows that there are no sick people and they are using this avenue to collect more money from the president. Now they have partners with the foreigners to install 5G program in our country. I heard that this program will cause cancer and many disease to phone users. Only people without phones will be safe. Goodbye" With this, Rose stood up, dusted her wrappers and left a trail of dust and longing behind her. The women pondered on what had been said before leaving one by one. Mama Richie sold her last wares and gave the women the black nylon where that she had tired. She kept the other one in her bra. She looked at Onome, who she had ignored throughout, placed him carefully on her back and started walking home.
When she got home, she walked passed her neighbours and dropped herself in the only stool in their one room apartment. Her husband walked in behind her and greeted her. She looked at him and noticed things that she hadn’t in the past weeks. His hairline was getting thinner, his skin was darker and he was growing thin.
“How was the market" He asked
“Fine. I sold all my wares” she brought out the nylon from her brazier and opened it to calculate her profit. Her screams made her husband stumble before falling. Onome started crying.
“What is it?” her husband asked.
Mama Richie spread her legs in front of a black nylon that had crayfish inside. She had given her last customer her money and took home her last crayfish. She had lost herself in Rose’s lips and picked hunger over her family. She recollected what had happened in the market. In her trance, she had exchanged her money with her last bag of crayfish. But it wasn't her fault. She had misplaced her attention. How could she have known? When her attention had been comfortable in Rose's lips and she had trailed Rose's footsteps when she left and inhaled the dust that her footsteps built behind her.