TheCable

…That morning, I headed off to “Marché Central” one of the major markets in Douala (the largest city in Cameroon). This was where I shopped for most of my foodstuff. Going to the market was always some mixed feelings. It was one of the best ways to connect to my new environment, experience the French people and make some savings on purchases. It was cheaper than going to the SuperMarché for everything but it was also a very dirty option to contend with.

I had a special shopping shoe, a green striped feminine rain boot which was a little oversize. I could hardly shop in this market without this shoe. It was the only protection my feet had from the soggy, muddy and dirty expanse that connected the different part of the market. I usually start with the plantain, and trust me, Cameroon has very big massive plantains and bananas too. It had to be the “Big Fingers” a parlance used to describe the size of each plantain. I usually buy ugwu leaves from an Ibo-Cameroonian who longs to visit Biafra as they still refer to home. I buy Ponmo and head off to the Nigerian woman who sells our own breed of yam. I couldn’t eat Cameroonian yam neither could I stick the red kidney beans which was everywhere in the market. I always looked for the Nigerian couples that sell our white Sokoto beans. I buy the tiny size snails and usually move to the stall of the old man who sells chicken. This area of the market was the filthiest. Your feet sinks into a bed of soaked form-like leaves, remnants and other waste. The sight of the live alligator caged in a web-like or net-like kind of cage waiting for a buyer was usually thrilling. Right in the middle of this commotion, the bargaining voices of both buyers and sellers rise and fall in different crescendo.
C’est combien? Trois mille, cinq cents “C’est Cher Ma Cherie” …………

I always look out for a particular woman; she smokes her cigarette right in the market. She was my comic relief. She sells smoked fish and was also “smoking herself” away. She sometimes has a stub behind her ears, when she is busy arranging her wares. She was a beautiful contradiction and an inconsistent impression in the market environment. I wasn’t her customer because I didn’t know the type of fish she sold but she had her tray right at the entrance of Boucherie. It was almost impossible not to see her when I wanted some goat and cow meat.

I hurried along in swift but calculative steps, pressing my feet hard to avoid a splash. Just ahead of me, under the blasting sun, a certain crippled woman was dragging her shattered body right through this smelly pool. Right in the mud where I could not bear to lay my feet, was the comfort zone of another. She had a little smile on her face and some twinkles in her eyes. It was difficult not to see the signature of pains and sufferings. Despite her troubles, she managed to look up at faces that passed with great enthusiasm and expectation. I pushed a large CFA note into her stretched hands. The sight was heart wrenching. Despite all her troubles………
She wasn’t poor, yes because poverty transcends the physical inability to purchase material things. She woke up, picked up her brokenness and sought for help. Her hopefulness will one day yield genuine concern and help from passersby. And if she dies while trying, then she dies victorious.

The poorest of men are not those who do not have money or roof over their head. The poorest of men are people who are afraid to ask or who are afraid to mingle. The worst type of poverty is “emotional poverty” when you cannot sustain a good relationship or boast of at least a friend. Most time people relapse to depression because of this attitude. They isolate themselves and abandon worthy relationship just because they do not want anyone in their space, they cannot give their time and they cannot tolerate and celebrate the success stories around them. They burn bridges easily and open a new chapter every now and then, abandoning those who wrote on the pages of the previous chapters in their life.

Why can’t you work anywhere without issues? Why can’t you live anywhere without raising the dust? Your physical door and emotional door are firmly shut against everyone. You are suspicious of everyone, anyone and no one in particular. A suicide idea pops up in your mind once in a while because you think the whole world is against you. The simple truth is you are your own enemy. Yes! You need to liberate yourself from self. You need to take a fresh breath of freedom and look at life with a wholesome perspective. Tear away from self inflicted pains and self pity mentality. Many people like that woman are living in genuine physical and mental pains yet they drag themselves up to face life each day with a renewed strength and vigour.

True wealth and investment is measured by the number of lives you have influenced positively. The returns are magnanimous, it’s beyond the notes and coins. It’s about the intangible value we give and get out of life. If you don’t give selflessly, you may not receive. If you give and give and continue to give, your labour of love will yield many sustaining fruit. The poorest of men are poverty stricken souls who deliberately bite the dust, unforgiving to self and others and humans who cannot give selflessly and commit to relationship.

Reach out, many hands are stretched. Do you have a story of challenges and victories you had like to share? Share it using #MyBoldWomanStory. Remember, perfection is absolutely nothing, just remain genuine.