I started going to the market with my mother at a young age. She insisted that I follow her because she wanted me to learn how to shop on my own in case she wasn't around one day. As the first daughter in our family, it was a responsibility that naturally fell on me, and I unintentionally became a "small mother" in the house. Sometimes, I enjoyed going to the market with her because there was an assurance of merriment, but on other days, it was extremely tiring, going from one shop to another.
My pic.
Ladies who went to the market with their mothers when they were kids can relate to how our mothers would walk the whole market over a hundred naira difference, and you dare not complain, lest you want to be scolded.
After going to the market with her many times, I felt very confident about visiting the market alone, since it was a small one very close to our house. She would send me to her customers, and I wouldn't have to do any bargaining because she had already done the negotiation; my task was just to pick up the items from the market. My confidence grew significantly, but I didn't get to test my bargaining skills because my mother thought I was too small to handle negotiations.
The real test came when we had a food and nutrition test in school. We were split into groups, and I found myself among the class big girls. I knew they wouldn't want to go to the market, which wasn't a problem because I was up to the task.
Each group was to prepare a local dish, and my group was assigned to make Eba, vegetable, and beef stew. We met, listed the ingredients we needed, split the money, and everyone contributed theirs. When it was time to appoint those who would go to the market, everyone started giving excuses, and I volunteered.
It was a Friday morning, and I set out with another group mate who wanted to help carry the food items. We got to the market, and I felt like a queen. I didn't have problems negotiating because I went to my mother's customers. I went to the beef section of the market last and didn't find my mother's customer, so I approached another beef seller.
I thought of leaving, but a voice whispered to me that I could handle things myself. Without wasting time, I started negotiating and inspecting the beef laid out on the table. The beef seller didn't have a choice but to sell to me after a long chat, and that moment was special. It was as if I had won a trophy, and I couldn't wait to show everyone what I had bought.
We returned to school after blending the pepper for the beef, and my shoulders were held high. My group mates were eager to see what we had bought. I unpacked the bag, and they were satisfied until I brought out the meat.
"Is this the 1,000 naira meat?" Sade asked.
"Yes, I almost had to beg the man to sell it to me. It's nice, right?" I asked, turning to Mide, the group mate who had accompanied me to the market. I wanted her to contribute to the conversation, and she did.
However, I saw disappointment written on their faces, and I didn't understand why until Sade said I had bought rubbish. She even said the beef shouldn't have cost more than 500 naira. I was angry and told her that she should have gone to the market if she could buy better than me.
Mrs. Olaleye, our food and nutrition teacher, intervened and immediately picked up the beef. She started laughing hard.
"Is this your first time buying meat?" she asked, handling the nylon as if it were empty.
"No, ma," I stuttered, feeling embarrassed. She dropped the nylon and left, only to return with the 1,000 naira beef another group had bought. It was twice the size of mine.
At that moment, I knew I had fucked up. Most of my group mates didn't believe I had bought the exact amount of beef we had budgeted for, even after Mide testified that I had spent 1,000 naira on the beef.
As if that weren't enough, we carried on with our cooking and served our respective judges, who were class teachers, immediately we completed it. We had high hopes and were happy seeing our judge smile as he ate the vegetable.
However, the smile vanished when he couldn't bite into the beef. He dragged it and almost spilled oil on his shirt before abandoning the beef. My group mates turned to me, and I wished I could disappear. I checked the beef after they abandoned it, and truly, it was tough and unchewable.
