The fish saga

Greetings!


Church service that seemed like it was never going to stop finally ended around 11:30 am. During the long sermons, my mind wasn’t there; it was already at home, thinking about food. The hunger in my stomach felt like a fourth World War was going on between my intestines, and it’s not like I didn’t eat the night before Sunday. I don’t know why the hunger hit so hard like that.
As soon as we stepped out of the church, I didn’t wait for anyone. I rushed out of the church premises, got on a bike, and headed home quickly. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any leftover food waiting for me, nor was there any girl at home to prepare a meal. At that moment, I wished I was married or at least had a girlfriend around to cook for me. But then again, having a girl stay at my place is expensive, especially in this period when the cost of living is cutting the living.

“Egusi soup!” That’s it—the soup my body, soul, and spirit agreed on. So, I took the last cash I had and headed to the market close to my street. Without looking sideways or getting distracted by the different market women calling me to Patronize them, I went directly to my favorite spot for buying fish.

“Madam, I don’t want to haggle today. How much are these two fishes?” I pointed at two smoked, medium-sized fish.

“Hehehehe! Has there ever been a day you came here without haggling?” She laughed and turned to the others buying fish too. I could have felt embarrassed, but no—I maintained my composure and waited a bit, expecting her to tell me the price. But no, she kept talking with the people haggling, and they all laughed in their native language. At some point, I felt like they were laughing at me, but I brushed it off.

“Madam, how much? Should I go somewhere else?” I raised my voice slightly, which caught her attention.

“Ohhhh! Sorry, I thought…” She trailed off, smiling at me, and I wondered what prompted that smile and what she was about to say before it took over her face.

“How much are you selling the fish?” I asked while picking up one of the fishes to check the size, but suddenly, it slipped out of my hands and fell to the ground.

“Heeeee! You’ve bought market! (You’re buying that one now for sure!)" she said, clapping her hands in mockery like market women do.

“Buying it how? If you had attended to me earlier, would it have fallen?” I was already angry at the way she mocked me, clapping her hands and drawing the attention of other market women around her. Thankfully, the other customers had left by then.
I thought she was joking, so when I picked up the fish from the ground, I set it aside and pointed at another one to replace it. But no, she completely refused, insisting that I must buy the one that fell on the ground.
I was shocked by her attitude. I paused, looked down at myself—from my chest to my feet. I wasn’t dressed poorly, nor did I look like someone who should be looked down on in the market. Why was she treating me like this? Was it because I had a slim build? No, it couldn’t be that. The reason, I concluded, was that she had “seen me finish,” as the saying goes. I’m always coming to the market alone, not sending a girl or at least coming with a girl to do the haggling for me. I need to get married!

With my self-respect intact, I decided to stand my ground. I left her spot, half-expecting her to come and drag me back so I could unleash the big lion in my small stature on her. She didn’t, though. She muttered a few words, but I didn’t care.
At the next spot, I was careful. I didn’t haggle much; I just bought at the stated price and left for my house, determined not to have another saga.

Well, I didn't let the occurrence to spoil my food and end up preparing a rubbish soup, I made sure it was well prepared even though it was done in a fast and furious mode because the intestines in my stomach were almost crawling out of my stomach to look for food by themselves in this planet.

Thanks for reading.

Photo used is mine

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