The Girl and the Market Pie



Janaan.Dy


 
© Copyright 2021 by Janaan.Dy



Photo by corn in a market.
                                Photo by Shelley Pauls on Unsplash

I was sitting in my room, there was electricity, my phone was charged and I had data. I was legit living my best life, when my friend called me saying we should go grab the meat pie, sold in the market. Monday market. That she was told itís so delicious. Iím not really a fan of food and Iíd just told the house maid what to cook for lunch, but I have such a weakness for following friends plus, I missed that my friend. So I told her ďLetís do this!Ē

I hastily changed into the first cloth my eyes laid on, a black and white comfortable gown, and while I grabbed my pause, I knew going to the market purposely to buy pie isnít something my home training agrees with. So, I made it my business to be flash about it. Not knowing itíll become one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to me.

I boarded a keke (tricycle) and told him to drop me in the market. Man agreed but when we went to post office, there was traffic and he said he canít take me to the market again. ďWhat? But you agreed to take me to the market, Sir!Ē I protested.

Normally, I would have just given him his money and walked the rest of the long distance, silently. But I was into some self reform that talks about speaking up for your right, even if your voice is cracking. And speaking up for my right I did! My heart beating with every audacity I muster, to protest.

Man got tired and told me to get off his keke. And I was like..ĒI wonít give you your full money then.Ē Bold of me yeah? He glared at the 500 Naira note I was handing him, told me he doesnít have change, that I should keep the money, all of it, and he drove off. Now that I think of it, I should have been the bigger person and threw the money at him

I jejely started walking, cursing under my breath because I canít just go back home, and there was no other keke to take me to the market. I had to walk. My only solace was meeting that friend.

And walk I did. I occupied myself with some thoughts. The usual daily fantasies, that takes my mind off the misfortune Iíd encountered. Then, a corn being roasted by a woman, by the road side, caught my attention. I havenít eaten roasted corn for like ages!

I passed her because itís completely barbaric for me to stop by the road side and buy corn. But something told me ďNo one knows you here. Youíll just buy and go. You might die at any moment and nothing else would matterĒ I got convinced so I went back, priced two corns and bought them.

When I finally went to the market, on the entrance, I met a friend and she was surprised to see me. She asked what I was doing alone in the market and I told her we made plans with my friend to come and buy pie. She just looked at me and said ďLalle Baba baya nan saisa kika saamu daman zuwa kasuwa don siyan pie.Ē

I gave out a nervous laughter to conceal what I felt was murdered in me. Itís so unfortunate that many of us want freedom, yet end up making a mess out of it. Sha, I removed my phone to call the friend who said we should come for market pie, as if there werenít food in our houses or things to make an even better pie. I saw a missed call from the number of my will-be-ex, which I ignored.

When I dialed her number, upon picking up, she told me she canít make it coz someone in her house was going out with a car and sheíd sent for her pie to be bought. I know. I knooooowwwww. You donít need to remind me how much of a mumu I was. I got played

I concealed my disappointment and told her itís ok. what was I to do? It wasnít her fault that I was stupid and such a follow-follow people pleaser. I went and bought some pies and some other thing Iíd rather not say. What? You want me to go back home with just a hot corn dancing in a leather because I had no bag to conceal it in? Can never be me.

I went back home and thankfully, no one noticed my absence. Iím known to always being in the confinement of my room. Dropped my shoppings and called back my will-be-ex. Heíd been begging me for days to see me and Iíd been playing hard to get. In my head, I was planning if we were ever going to meet, Iíll be wearing my best, in my heal shoe, playing with my car keys and wearing my sunglasses You know, that successful woman scene

So, imagine what I felt when he picked up and asked ďwere you the one I just saw in the market?Ē Shoot me! Someone shoot me alreadyyyyy!!!

I switched off the call coz I couldnít come up fast with a thing to say.

He called back and I didnít pickup. I should pick and say what ni? Yes Iím the one fighting with the keke man or the one pricing corn by the street or the one buying pie and what must-not-be-mentioned?

I donít even know at which of the embarrassing scenes he saw me.

Most likely driving in his car, with his window glasses up, AC On and all that. Suddenly, there I was, in a black and white gown. Who even wears black and white? Was I contesting to be a Zebra ? And it doesnít help that the last time he saw me, I was also in a black and white gown. Take me to the zoo please, Iím renouncing my humanship

Iím sure if it were a scene from a Bollywood movie, there would have been suspense, dramatic music in the background, many slo-mos but the director would have found a way for me not to be seen by him. Maybe he would walk towards me, tap my shoulders and when I turn, somehow somehow, itíll appear itís not me

Someone had worn same cloth with same height and everything, and itíll be shown that Iím walking on the opposite direction, my veil swinging in air and my corn leather dancing in my hands. Alas, I was seen

When he called again, I picked up with the zeal of saying it was a different black and white gown I was in, from the last one he saw me in(Me and my misplaced priorities)And that would have been the truth but instead, I completely denied of going out. I couldnít risk it.

He kept insisting it was me he saw and will only believe it wasnít me if I swear. What? Swear? I was like...ĒI canít tell you the truth and swear on top of that.Ē Which was a line I got from a movie or something. A senseless one at that. He was sure it was me he saw and I said, ďwell, believe whatever you want to. Iíve been in my room all day and I donít care whatever you thinkĒ Omoooooo!!!! Itís the audacity for me. Give me my crown

I lied of going out but it was the truth that at that point, I just donít care.

Just to say that was the last time I wore that particular dress, and the last time I bought a roasted corn, a market pie and what-must-not-be-mentioned, and the very first time I started working on myself, to never again be influenced by friends.

Learn from me, always dress good. Everything else is second.


Hassana Ibrahim Danyerwa with the pen name Janaan.Dy, is a graduate of Engineering on paper, but a writer by heart. She lives in Maiduguri, Borno state Nigeria. She uses her pen to write to an audience that wonít listen to her, otherwise. On days when the world around her collapses, she goes to the blank pages of her book and rebuilds the world in a much wonderful way. 




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