Ifẹ Eko
The setting is Balogun market on a crisp saturday afternoon.
The kind where the sun bleeds into everyday life.
It gives the air an orange tint and the wind a sickly quality, but Lagos is unmoved.
Each measly burst of wind brings a whiff of akara, a hint of refuse and healthy does of dust from the packed road.
There are no cars here,
But there exist feet of every color and size.
The sandals are already covered in dust
so they walk slowly as they yell ‘pure water!! 50 Naira!! Cooooold pure water!!’
The Dress shoes behind them are irritated, obviously hurried
They patter off in rhythm
But not without bumping into the off brand Nikes
Who push into aba made Adidas and cause them to shove another pair of sandals
The cycle continues
It stops for no one.
Lagos is a city that never sleeps,
And balogun market is the caffeine that keeps it awake
If you look closely, you will see the thousands of stories.
Cogs that fit into machinery of trade
Iya Bayo sits to the left of the road
Her large umbrella forms the shadow of a flower around her
Her voice already hoarse from advertising her wares
but she carries on.
She croaks about the finery of her lace,
The intricacy of her bead work
Because she needs money to send her second daughter, Tolu to school.
A drop of sweat trickles down the side of her face
Collecting with other beads and gaining momentum
She swipes it off like a fly and flicks it in no particular direction.
Like the hundreds of other market women.
Their voices rise to a symphony
Louder and louder
The cycle continues
It stops for no one
Lagos is a city that never sleeps
And balogun market is the caffeine that keeps it awake
If you look closely, you will see the thousands of stories.
Cogs that fit into machinery of trade
Tobe by now is a skillede trader
He weaves in between the crowd like needle
Persuades like silk
He has mastered the art of Lagos
And knows by now the meaning of hustle
Each passerby is a potential customer
And he wastes no opportunity
Grabs a hand, flashes a glittering smile
‘Nne this one will fit you wellllll’
And just like that over half of his quota has been sold.
He has learnt to tune out the noise
But inside he still hears his mother's voice
‘Dont forget who you are’
Louder than any melody the market has to offer
This is his reality
Sale after sale after sale
The cycle continues
It stops for no one
Lagos is a city that never sleeps
And balogun market is the caffeine that keeps it awake
If you look closely, you will see the thousands of stories.
Cogs that fit into machinery of trade
As the sun sets on another day in Lagos
Iya Bayo makes her last sale.
A glittering white așǫ oke, studded with artificial diamonds
A masterpiece
And like the women around her she closes shop.
To join the people that leave the market in droves.
If you look closely, you will see the thousands of stories.
Written on each person's face.
A few feet away
A girl bumps into Tobe
Tall and regal she does not flinch
She smiles and offers a brief apology.
And before he knows it she is gone
Lost in the ever changing kaleidoscope of the crowd
But her smile blooms in his chest
rich and full like hibiscus
Sweeter than sugar cane
Hedives into the crowd
To find that feeling again.