There has always been chaos at the popular Balogun market in Lagos, and a few days ago, there wasn't an exemption. It felt like it was double what it had always been. Voices rose and fell like the waves crashing against seashores. The air reeked of stench from, dust, spices and every possible thing you could think of.
On my end, I was more focused on expertly manoeuvring through the chaos with my grip tightened on my handbag and my tiny shawl covering my head from the boiling sun, which threatened to burn off the sole of my shoes. My legs were already dusty and I could hear my breath rising with each step I took.
I looked at myself as I passed through a shop with a reflective window and couldn't help but laugh. It's true, what they say about Lagos. It has a way of changing you without you even knowing. I couldn't believe that just a few hours earlier, I had left my house looking all fresh and beautiful. But just a few minutes in the market, and with what I saw in the mirror, I looked like a soldier coming back from the war front.
"Fine, Aunty, come and buy pepper", a seller shouted at me.
I turned and looked at the brown tooth woman beckoning me to her stall which was a mix of colourful red tomatoes, green peppers, and yellow onions, arranged beautifully like a work of art. Then I smiled and politely rejected her proposal. But I was happy that at least someone still thinks I was beautiful In the midst of such chaos.
I had just limited cash, which was meant for specific food items, and I didn't want to waste money on impulse buys. I found a stall filled with rice of different varieties. Exactly what I needed. I stopped and decided to go bargain for it when I heard a voice yell angrily at me.
"E no get break o. Comot for road" I turned to see a wheelbarrow pusher heading towards me like a loose bolt with his wheelbarrow filled with wares and his client running behind him and pleading he takes it easy.
I quickly jumped out of the way as I marvelled at the impatience of these wheelbarrow pushers. "That was close," I muttered before carefully walking into the rice stall.
"Welcome customer. What do you want?" The beautiful rice seller asked with a cheerful look.
"Just fifteen cups of this please" I pointed to my choice while unzipping my handbag to bring out my money. "How much per cup?" I asked, still searching.
"Just five hundred and fifty naira," the seller said.
I didn't reply, but I kept fondling my bag, this time with so much seriousness. My fingers brushed against each part of my bag but all I got in return was its cold emptiness. My heart started pounding fast and my eyes widened in fear
“No...no...” I found myself whispering.
"Are you alright ma'am?" I heard the rice seller ask as she packed my purchase.
"I think I've just lost my purse. It had the money I was supposed to pay you with" I cried, sweating and biting my lips hard.
"Didn't you zip your bag?" She asked, pity written on her face.
"I did so but.." I paused as I flipped my bag over, trying to see if my purse could miraculously slip out. Instead, I saw a tear on the side of my bag. "My bag, it's torn". I cried, confused and sad.
"It must have fallen off," the seller said.
I ignored her. At that point,t I had so many things running through my mind. Not only was my purse filled with money, but it also contained some important identification cards, ATM cards and other kinds of stuff I mustn't lose. I tried being strong as tears were already gathering in my eyes like clouds gathering for rain.
"Try and retrace your steps, ma'am. If you're lucky, you might find it," The seller advised.
With tears burning through my eyes, I turned and retraced my steps, my eyes scanning the ground like a metal detector on a minefield for any sign of my brown purse.
A few hours later, I gave up searching and accepted my fate. I was already looking like a baby cat immersed in water. I walked back to the rice stall and paid the seller with a bank transfer. Picked up a few other groceries I needed from different stalls and started walking my way back home. Now, the market noise was too loud and too harsh to my ears.
I got home tired and angry. I lost all motivation to cook and just cuddled myself in bed, burying myself with my blanket. Then I shared silent tears. I was grateful that the walls of my room were the only ones that could hear me cry myself to sleep in secret.
Two days later, I was at home listening to music from my tiny speaker box, humming to the tune of 80's music emanating from the box while I cooked in my kitchen. The aroma of the fresh tomato beef stew I was cooking filled my apartment. I had already forgotten about my loss and was in the process of retrieving my lost ATM and identification cards.
Then I heard a knock on the door. Must be Mama Chinedu I thought. I walked to the door with my fluffy flip-flops slapping against my soft sole and opened it; on the other side was a tall, lanky young man in his early twenties.
"Yes, how can I help you?" I asked, looking at him from head to toe. Trying to see if I knew him from anywhere. But his face wasn't familiar.
"Good evening", he greeted, revealing a brown purse, exactly like mine, in his hands. "Is this yours?" He asked, his face neutral.
I gasped. “Yes! Yes, it is!”
He handed it over to me "I found it close to a tomato and pepper stall. Luckily your identification card was inside that's how I was able to locate you"
I quickly recalled it of the brown tooth woman beckoning me to her stall. I must have lost it there.
I stood speechless at the kindness and honesty of the young man. I opened and checked inside, everything was still intact including my money. I opened my mouth in disbelief that such an honest young man was. In a world where everyone was rushing, grabbing, and taking, he had chosen to give.
"Thank you so much. I'm really grateful" I finally said, voice thick with emotio. Then I proceeded to invite him over for dinner but he declined vehemently.
When I was sure I couldn't convince him. I dipped my hands in my wallet and slipped a few naira notes and gave it to him. He was reluctant at first but I convinced him with "Please accept it. Even if it's a refund of your transport" he finally accepted it and turned to leave.
“Wait! What’s your name?” I called out as he walked away.
“Emmanuel,” he said, smiling slightly.
I nodded. Clutching the purse to my chest I walked back into my house happy. Then I walked up to my speaker box, increased the volume just the way my happiness had increased that night.
Glossary
"E no get break o - There's no break
Comot for road” - Leave the road
Follow