‘‘Rice has finished!” Iya Ramota announced the moment I arrived at her shop. As I turned to leave, I found out that her workers have commenced preparing another batch of rice and so, I joined other waiting customers.
“My dear, please be going,” Iya Ramota said as she turned towards me. “I am not doing credit sales today.
I felt embarrassed. The fact that she was not doing credit was not the issue, but that she said it publicly made it a big deal. I was going to confront her that Mama does not have any outstanding debts, but I had a rethink. The message was crystal clear – the era of credit sales are over.
Mama was not surprised when I informed her about the food seller’s harsh treatment. She merely sighed and muttered something under her breathe. The only money she could boast of that day was the gift of five thousand Naira which aunty Faustina gave her before she left her shop.
Mama and Aunty Faustina were both agemates, yet the disparity between both was crystal clear. The lady looked more sophisticated and accomplished. What if mama had married an influential man like aunty Faustina, the kind of husband who had the power to stop the order to lock up our shop? We would possibly be living in one of the big houses at Lekki. Mama would have been looking sophisticated just like her friend. My two siblings, Kelechi and Chioma, would have been maybe in one of the top private secondary schools and I would be a proud undergraduate of maybe, a prestigious private foreign university.
“Get up and let’s go!” Mama’s voice jerked me from my reverie.
“Mama…” the words froze between my lips when I spotted her merchandise bag already packed.
“Mama, is it not too early for us to close now?”
“Will you get up from there and let’s be on our way?” she sighed, shoving her merchandise bag to me.
“But why are we closing early today?” I probed as we meandered our way in the crowd.
“The man I bought my last consignment of goods on credit, sent a message that he’ll be coming to collect part of his money this evening,” she explained with a furrowed brow, apart from our transport fare back home, I don’t have a single dime…”
“What about the money Aunty Faustina gave you?”
Mama laughed despite her distress. “That money is just a drop compared to what I owed.” My heart sank. The closing date for my JAMB registration was just two weeks away, and I haven’t made the payment yet.
“What are you thinking about?” Mama tapped me.
“Mama, why are we always in lack?”
Mama cupped back her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm.
The words of Aunty Faustina suddenly flashed through my mind.
“Make hay while the sun is shining so that you don’t end up like your mother…”
“Mama, I’m going to change this narrative someday,” I assured her.
“I hope so,” she nodded weakly.