As the pupils of Neem’s memorial primary school carried out their morning march with unbridled joy and
enthusiasm in childlike anticipation for the approaching end of the year holidays and festivities, I only
grew amused at how Innocent children were.
Impervious to the stifling economic conditions in Nigeria, as far as their parents were concerned, this is
the time when savvy thrift and smart living gave way to holy extravagance and obligatory merriment.
I mean, how do you explain to a ten-year-old that 1 dollar is equivalent to 700 Naira…?
Wahala for who get pikin, as far as I was concerned, I could only ponder on what the future held in store
for me.
As I glanced through my phone to while away time on the assembly ground, I came across a picture on
Facebook which showed a rather excited student from my Alma mater being recognized for her excellent
grades at the end of the session, which I could relate to. I vividly remember the June to July months with a
faint smile on my face in which rain fell with indiscretion. And that day was not an exemption as I headed
to the faculty of education under the grumpy sky to check my final year results. Amidst the teeming
number of students hovering around the old departmental notification board.
Samson Asake Adegoke, First class honors, department of English education…
In prompt fashion, I made my way back home unbothered by the heavy rain to deliver the good news to
my family. Scholarly Samson, Samson the efiko, paper destroyer and so on and so forth as my friends
joyfully hovered around me. In the midst of all this, I could only think of Frank Sinatra’s song “New
York”. King of the hill, as I gleefully mumbled to myself.
Or more like Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, the only thing I could think of right now was my
employer’s cold feet towards our December salary bonus, the daily injection of shege Doctor Sapa
administered to me or the intermittent dose of wahala, my landlord has been brewing for me, after all
“landlords must chop new Year’s turkey”
You couldn’t fault the school’s pending pay anyway, after all how many schools could afford to pay Christmas
salary bonuses or be in the highbrow area of mainland Lagos given the current economic hardships, but who that
one help?
As the pupils ran to and fro the school hall with playful intent and reckless abandon during recess, I could not
help but recall my fateful trip to Lagos for Christmas shopping. To beat the festive train of buyers and the high,
exuberant prices that came with the season, I went a week before December.
Something felt off as I made my way to the sprawling island market to experience my first grown up Christmas
shopping (being the last born of my family) perhaps a sign of things to come. As my bus made its way to Lagos,
my thoughts were lost on the lyrics of Majeed’s classic hit “Yawa no dey“ played from the driver’s radio…
With the same steely drive, I embodied during my University days, I highlighted from the bus and proceeded into
the market with considerably fewer buyers compared to the peak of festive mass hysteria that had come to
characterize the famous Eko market during the Christmas and New year season.
I approached different vendors and market women trying to find the right price and buy, pricing things as I
thought fit, to the annoyance of some market people. As I went along the market, I came across a marketer who
was advertising clothes and accessories for a famous store in the market. Known notoriously throughout Eko
market for their aggressive marketing strategy, they employed the use of street boys to coerce customers into
coming into their store..I headed further and further into the market until I came across a small kiosk along the
road displaying different clothes, shoes, bags and so on. The seller seemed reasonable, willing to sell at a good
price. I took advantage of this and started to negotiate the prices of the clothes I had selected. Unknown to mean
aggressive marketer from earlier kept on following me. Only God knows how much he would stand to gain from
each purchase I made from the store. He approached me with desperation, asking me to come over to the store.
At the mention of the name of the store, the seller who I was with angrily shoved the marketer to the floor, called all other similarly aggrieved sellers around his shop, and they pounced on the marketer, giving him the beating of his life. Before you knew it, one thing led to the other and the entire market was in disarray with the police coming into calm the scene.
After the dust had settled, and I found the cloth seller, we made our way back to the section of the market where
his kiosk was with much furor in the midst of other market traders with a sweet feeling of justice being served.
On arrival at the kiosk, I hurriedly selected the clothes I intended to buy and reached out for my wallet containing
the last cash on me. I searched my pockets in futility as my wallet was gone, lost or stolen during the market
brawl or during my movement through the market. I thought to myself, so much for my first attempt at shopping
during the Christmas festivities.
