My Sister Won’t Be The Market Trader Anymore

Photo by Omotayo Tajudeen on Unsplash

When I was still quite young, we used to play a game in our house; just us girls, my brother hadn’t graced us with his presence yet.

My elder sister would act as the market trader. She sold a lot of things: clothes, shoes, cosmetics, food items and whatever my mum brought from the market that day. I was the customer, and our youngest was the trader’s daughter.

I would go to her stall – which was either the baby cot in our room or the centre table in our sitting room – to buy goods and we would go back and forth until we got tired of playing and directed our attention to “mundane” things.

But now, my sister is growing. She’s celebrating a “huge number” birthday today and I can’t help but feel nostalgic. She’s going to become a doctor, get married and live a beautiful Christ-filled life. I’m not sad about any of these things, if anything, I’m excited for her. But this also means that we can’t spend endless hours just being market people again.

We will become many things as we grow, but our market life will forever live in my heart.

Happy birthday, Boluwatife, I love you with the love of a thousand market people.

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I'll write something here when I'm mentally capable of doing so. For now, nice to meetcha.

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Boluwatito Ayodeji

Boluwatito Ayodeji

I'll write something here when I'm mentally capable of doing so. For now, nice to meetcha.

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