THE NEW MARKET PLACE

THE NEW MARKET PLACE

When about 30 of us got into the interview hall, an HR official walked to the front and became a sales man right before our eyes. He sold us the one thing many of us did not wish to buy.

"We are all sales men; marketers in this world, else why do women apply makeup and men make money just to woo the other sex? We want someone to buy what we are directly or indirectly selling. Marketing is one of the best jobs in the world. Be proud of it! So my friends, we offer you the job of a loan officer. You will go out looking for clients who we can loan money..."

Those still seated had sad looks on their faces . They probably had no fare to take them home. I spoke to one of them. He was coming all the way from Sango to Gbagada for a job of his nightmare. These were his last words: " Omo this na interview scam o. Na why I come spend my last card be this sha… God dey."

We all wanted to be Graduate Trainees but oh well...We were being sold the position of a Loan Officer.

I went home too! Who else would I sell to when the world is already a market place with many sellers than buyers?

A Shared Experience

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MAKEOVER

When she realized her hair was gone, the barber had increased the volume of his radio and India Arie’s ‘I am not my hair’ filled the room. ‘If I can manage the situation like a professional, my construction contract with her father will hold tomorrow,’ I thought. I breathe in and out, a logic that never works for me, but I do it anyway. I rehearse my words, changing each sound to a softer version of the previous one - aligning my looks to the words so that my eyes become half closed and there is a faint smile on my face. I wait for the explosion. All the while, the barber is busy touching what is left on her head with his clipper. He says it is the final addition and calls it the moon look. He fumbles with the chair, turning Stella from left to right like a child’s play. The large mirror in front of us escalates the mishap and the fumes on my girlfriend’s face seem to be burning the white walls. It was meant to be a makeover since her 25 th birthday was the next day. Now it...

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS

In those days, when it rained we would stay by the window and watch how the trees danced to the beats of the wind, the singing of raindrops and thunder. The lighter the music, the closer our legs would get to the door post, quietly watching the eyes of our mother; and waiting for an approval. When she wiggled her legs, it was a negative signal. But when she praised the beautiful works of God in the rainy moment, it was a positive sign. Note, there was no going outside when it rained in the night. That was why Joseph composed the song: Rain visit us when the sun is not old Rain sing for us when the moon is not young So that mother will open the door for us to play with you So that papa will come home dry and happy. Rain visit us as we sing to you. Rain oh rain oh rain. That particular day, the rain was deaf to our singing, or calling and yelling. We became frustrated because the sun was kissing the lines of the sea, workers were returning home while livestock owners were gathering their...

WHEN WE ARE OLD

I heard them laughing, pointing at different buildings at each bus stop. Some were tall, old, and short buildings but they had something in common. They were whitewashed. The daughter talked more than her mother. She even laughed out loud sometimes as if they were the only passengers onboard. They occupied the first two seats on the deck of the bus and could see the clouds moving slowly even better than the driver. The daughter pointed to a small house and said to her mother: “Ma, do you remember Auntie Debbie? She used to live in a tiny house just like that. Ha-ha! It was too small to even accommodate our cat when I was 7, remember?” “Yes, I remember darling. But you’re all grown up, tired of kitty. She is all mine now.” They both smiled and then the daughter mumbled something, and it turned into a wild laugh, as if something went awry in their heads. My mother will not laugh with me like this. Never! I thought. In fact, I dared not laugh at anyone’s house - big or small. ...

EMMAWAD

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