Come Thursday
I take a shopping list to the market
A weekly list
Today the market is roaring
Hawking and howling and honking
Hustling and jostling and whistling
It’s a different market day today
Dragging and pulling and pushing
Now a pregnant hen is dragged to a market day
And her chicks are pushed sheepishly…some still in their shells
Now a duck and its ducklings are pulled by the neck
To marathon in their tracks to partake in a market
Then I know it’s that moment in time
For everything to sell
At the definite drop of a gavel
At the deafening clinking ring of a bell
Just one look
And I locate all my winged delicacies
The giant rooster
The motherly hen
The vociferous guinea fowl
Even the neckful duck
Their golden eggs still alive, oval and fresh
Well, I know why they all tagged along
Well, I heard there was no one at home
Agya had left for the farm at dawn
He had wished Eno a marketful day
Agya would not be home until just before dusk
Only after he was done with a day’s hoeing task
Today I pay for a giant cock
I spare a mother hen
I tuck a duck into the lower deck of my market day basket
Never mind the neck
But I think to mind the ducklings
Today I box them into a pack
Today I collect plenty of their golden eggs
Today I pay what is less than a penny
Eno said I was as good as to shop right
Her valued customer
Eno shows her ‘customer care’ without a bargain
She counts her lot and thinks I deserve a discount
She vouches for a vociferous guinea fowl
To follow me home free from cost
This market day she suffered no loss, she said
Eno wishes me to return come the next market day
Eno throws her eyes upwards, instinctively
The sun had decided to dim, suddenly
She picks up mother hen and her chicks…some still in their shells
They are still up for sale, she tells
Then she makes a quick dash to a stall across hers
…as she tucks mother hen under her armpit
My eyes follow in full lens
I look as she releases miserable hen
I see as she dumps mother hen on a waiting lap
My eyes see it all when she collects them all…the fish crumbs and their detached heads
The fish had first arrived with heads fully attached
But after making round trips for eight market days
With no secret admirer showing open interest
The putrefied section had broken ranks
I widen more lenses
I gasp as she collects with such odd seriousness
I sigh as she exchanges her Golden hen for stinking fish
For stinking fish!
Stinking fish to lick for less
Oh how she sells the Golden hen that lays the Golden eggs
Oh how she adds the Golden chicks for only a penny
What good are those fish carcasses, I wonder
“Oh Agya would return with a basketful of cassava
Plenty of green plantain
Plenty of green leafy greens
Not much will be our need
Only this fish we need to feed
Only a filled bowl to fill a hungry need”
So she sells Gold for a penny
Then she gets less for her plenty
