I was five years old when I knew that I’d make a terrible businesswoman. When I say businesswoman, I mean this in the Nigerian context of buying and selling goods.
You see, I was intrigued by the men and women who sold their wares on the streets and in the markets. I really wanted to be like them, for one reason: giving change.
I don’t know how to explain it; the thrill I felt whenever someone gave money in exchange for an item they were buying and got back money, was indescribable. It tickled me no end and I wanted to be the person handing out change. I often acted the role of a vendor in front of the mirror in my parents’ bedroom. But playacting wasn’t satisfactory. So, I decided to step it up a notch. I went to my mother.
“Mummy,” I said to her after school one warm afternoon. “I want to do business.”
“What kind of business?” she asked, startled. I was quite the spirited child; serious words like ‘business’, were foreign to my vocabulary.
“I want to be selling groundnuts,” I replied. “I will put it on my head and go around saying, ‘Edep mmansang…come and buy groundnuts.’”
My mother chuckled. “Why do you suddenly want to sell groundnuts?”
“I want to be giving people change,” I mumbled, staring down at my feet, dusty from playing outside.
This time, she laughed. “You want to give change, enh? Mfana ibagha…no problem. But I don’t want you to hawk it. You’ll sit at the gate and sell your groundnuts.” Then she got up and went inside the house.
I thought my chest was going to burst with happiness! Just like that, my dream was about to come true.
“Here,” my mother said when she came outside. “Use this to start your business.”
She handed me a ten naira note. Ten whole naira! Back then, that was a huge sum of money for any child. My joy knew no bounds. I gave the money to my nanny, Auntie Enenwan, whom I trusted. In turn she bought, fried, and tied the groundnuts in small, transparent cellophane packs. Then she spread them out on a tray.
“I put twenty-five packs of groundnuts in this tray. Sell each pack for two naira, you hear? When you finish selling, your money will be fifty naira.”
At that, my eyes went wide. I was going to be very rich! I bobbed my head vigorously to show that I understood. She rolled a piece of fabric as a pad and set my wares on my head.
Chai! That was the first of my proudest moments in this life. I wasn’t allowed to hawk, but all the way to the estate’s gate, I called out, “Edep mmansang.... buy groundnuuuts.” Beside me, auntie Enenwan grinned. In her left hand, she held the small stool on which I was to place my tray.
At the gate, I immediately set up shop while Enenwan returned home. A sharp business entrepreneur that I was, I called out to whoever was passing by.
“Eiss! Come and buy groundnuts,” I said to the children.
“Uncle come and buy my sweet groundnuts.”
“Auntie, come and buy my sweet groundnuts.”
I even got to use one of my favourite words. Customer. “Customer, buy my sweet groundnuts.”
Business was moving. In no time, I’d sold all my packs of groundnuts. Correct business girl! I placed the small stool on my tray and asked one of my customers to place it on my head. Then I began my triumphant return home.
My mother was crocheting in the living room when I ran in, flushed with excitement.
“Mummy! Mummy…. Mummy,” I said, jumping on to the sofa where she sat, grinning from ear to ear. “I sold everything.”
“Really? Oh, that’s my girl!” she exclaimed. “How much did you sell?”
“I sold all of it for fifty naira!”
“Wow! This my daughter is smart! So, where’s the money?” she asked.
“Which money?” I asked, confused.
“The fifty naira that you got from selling.”
“Oh,” I said, a bright smile replacing my confusion. “I used it to give all of them change. Mummy, do you know that two aunties and uncles didn’t want to collect their change? They gave me money and didn’t want to take it back. But I told them to take it, that it’s their change.”
A few seconds went by. Then my mother started laughing. She laughed so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks and she had to put down the table cover she was crocheting.
“You mean they gave you money, but you returned it as change?” she asked, pausing to wipe the tears.
“Yes Mummy,” I replied, baffled by her mirth.
She nearly fell to the floor in a fresh bout of laughter. She called to the nanny and between teary giggles, explained what I’d done. That one started laughing too. My gaze went from one to the other. Their glee was so infectious, and happy child that I was, I joined them.
It was a good while later, when Mum sat down and explained the whole concept of giving change to me. It was a while longer before I understood why I had to take a part of someone’s money for goods.
Did I learn my lesson and stay away from selling anything in this life again? Of course not. And the second time was a near disaster. But that’s a story for another day.