A market is not meant to be a source of excessive extortion. Let me begin with a bit of history.
Epe is a town located in Lagos, Nigeria. It is said to have been founded by a hunter named Uraka, who came from Ile-Ife.
For reference, Uraka Street can be found in Epe, near Itamarun.
Uraka's statue was formerly placed at the Itamarun roundabout before the road reconstruction necessitated its removal. However, the museum at the Secretariat still houses the statue.
Ayetoro Market, located in the heart of Epe, was our main source of food. Fresh produce, fresh wine, fish, snails, bushmeat... name it!
Its proximity to the Lagos Lagoon makes it easily accessible to a variety of aquatic resources, including fish and other wildlife.
One day, as usual, I went to the market with the aim of getting a brand-new power bank to charge my phone because of the electricity supply issues in my area.
After alighting from the motorcycle, also called an okada in my neighbourhood, I gave the rider ₦400 instead of ₦300. This was because of his affable personality.
At the market, I saw some boys hailing me from left and right.
“Corper wee! Agba corper!”
These grown men had no formal jobs. What they did was hail people as they passed, hoping to get a little money from them.
Personally, I gave them something once in a while, but that day, I had gathered some of my savings and was heading to the market to buy the expensive power bank. At that point, I was impregnable, and their ranting meant nothing to me.
At the store, I asked about the Oraimo power bank, which cost ₦35,000.
The Igbo boy attending to me didn't seem willing to sell it at that price. He said, “Oga, sir, this power bank na ₦40,000 last.”
I told him that I had seen it online for ₦29,000, which was actually true.
He cited shipping and transportation costs as the reasons for the difference. I smiled and explained that the price I saw online was the normal retail price.
He looked at me before telling me to go around the market and compare prices.
At first, I was angry 😡, but later, I had to think outside the box.
As I went around the market, I noticed that the power bank cost ₦38,000 in other shops. I had expected as much based on his narration. I also checked Temu, where it was cheaper.
During all the back-and-forth, I suddenly noticed that my wallet was missing.
I checked my back pocket once more, but I couldn't find it.
For the first few minutes, I was not my usual amiable self.
I thought about the amount of money I had in that wallet: ₦70,000.
Ha! Going to the police to report such an incident would be a nightmare.
The power bank I had wanted to buy was practically staring at me, the buyer, but I didn't have the courage to purchase it anymore.
I retraced my steps and visited every shop I had entered. All to no avail.
Lastly, I went to look for the agbero boys who had greeted me earlier, but I couldn't find them.
“Ha!” I screamed. “Please, who knows where these agbero boys are?”
Someone pointed towards Daudu and said, “That is one of them.”
“Daudu!” I called.
Initially, he pretended as though he had never seen me before.
“Daudu! Please, I'm looking for my wallet,” I said.
Daudu looked at me and replied, “You didn't answer me, nor did you give me anything when I asked you for help.”
“Please, did you see my wallet?” I asked again.
Passers-by immediately gathered around me, curiously inquiring about what had happened.
I narrated my predicament to them. One of them even asked what was inside the wallet.
I mentioned the money, my identity card, my voter's card and some receipts.
Soon, this little matter escalated beyond anything I had imagined that day. Scorpion, the chairman, called the other agberos on duty to ask whether any of them had seen or picked up the wallet.
However, they firmly denied having it.
Someone advised me to report the matter to the police because my identity card could be used for fraudulent or other criminal activities.
Immediately, I headed to the police station.
Although I was sad, I had to go through the whole process and report everything thoroughly.
A power bank that cost just ₦29,000 had led me into all these troubles.
I thought to myself that perhaps the agberos had stolen my wallet during their routine greetings.
I tried to remember where I might have lost it. I felt it must have fallen out when I wanted to pay the okada rider.
Everything was hazy and incoherent.
In fact, I remembered touching my wallet during my encounter with the agberos, but I still couldn't piece everything together.
When I got home, I was sad and began to mumble about the unfortunate day I had experienced.
Then, PHCN restored the electricity supply, and the sound of the stabiliser could be heard.
I glanced at the time. It was 8:30 p.m.
I hadn't eaten all day. I had no money on me.
Thoughts about how I would survive kept producing recurring nightmares in my mind.
Eventually, I took a shower after preparing my food.
At the dining table, I saw my wallet smiling at me.
I thought I was dreaming.
I wiped my face in disbelief as I marvelled at the object that had wasted my entire day. It had been sitting right there on the dining table all along!
Hmmm!
As the Yoruba proverb goes, “Nǹkan tí a ń wá ní Sokoto wà nínú sokoto.”
Sometimes, what we spend the whole day searching for is closer than we imagine.
My family and friends, I know this happens to many people every day, but I was grateful that I hadn't lost my money after all. But I would never dream of such experience again.
Image was sourced from chat gtp
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