₦airaland Forum

I overheard her as she narrated to her friend, reasons why she wouldn’t borrow money from “credit outfits” whose interest rates are as high as Mount Kilimanjaro. Who is she anyway? Flow with me as I unfold the super story of my maize seller.
For over three weeks now, I always check out of the house in the evening to do two things. If you’ve read “Perfect Love Casteth Out All Tributes”, you would know I always observe evening walk to clear my head and midway into the walk, I always buy hot maize. That’s using one stone to kill two birds.
As usual, I stood-by to buy some maize. I placed my order and the last maize was been roasted when a woman came around, paid for and packed my maize, you can say I wasn’t looking and when I turned to look it was too late ‘cause the woman had gone far and I didn’t want to blow my cover, as an unassuming guy that I am, #winks. That way, I had to wait for some 10-15 minutes more. It was during the wait that I noticed the woman who owns the next shop was a fruit seller. Obviously these two women are bosom friends, since they always sit and talk together all of the time. As they talked and clapped together that day, I overheard them mention something about the woman who packed my maize. ghen! ghen! My ear stretched, apparently because of the gossip gestures that they made. Alas! They opened up a super story for me to write.
The supposed fruit seller said the woman who packed my maize is now much comfortable than she was before, that meant the third lady had once passed through very discomforting circumstances. I began to process where that gossip was headed when the maize seller let the cat out of the bag. With obvious regret in her eyes, she stressed how she advised the third woman against borrowing money from “local credit outfits’’, as they are merciless and their interests rates are not just very high but inhumane too. She said she would rather lend from cooperative unions after saving a little. With visible anxiety, she recalled the moments when she warned the third woman not to over-do, supporting her views with her hard experiences as a single mother. She compared herself as a widow, with the third woman who was divorced, as two women with no husband. That was her point, there was no one to support financially. Hence, she didn’t want the third woman to lend money out of desperation. It was that day I knew my maize seller was a widow. She talked about her first business, of how she hawked fried stuffs like “buns and doughnuts” in a show glass. After the demise of her husband she ran out of cash so she went to borrow money to continue her pastry business.
I almost dropped a tear as her story unraveled; she got the money and was able to continue with her business. Unfortunately for her, one morning after she had finished frying, arranged all her product in the glassware and was ready to sell. On full load, in front of her house she missed her steps and fell, the glass container shattered and the “buns/doughnuts” all poured away. Two major losses, wasted effort plus a broken leg. The latter was insignificant to her compared to the former. Judging by the way she reportedly shouted “gbese re o, owo lapo lapo”. Believe you me, I had to maintain a plain face to avoid laughing out, by now she wasn’t silent with her story anymore. She assumed I was listening and learning. She was correct. She claimed all her savings was exhausted during the treatment of her broken leg. With deep sadness, she noted that while she was still at the hospital, representatives of the credit organization visited to remind her of the incurred debt and the consequences of non-payment at the agreed time. With a few weeks to full recovery, she was discharged to go home. That made it easier for the “lapo-lapo” people to mount pressure on her. As soon as she started walking, the “lapo-lapo” people came to bundle her away because the agreed time of payment was due. Where did they carry you to? I asked curiously, and she replied, their office of course. There, she was locked in a toilet. How mean could humans be? She was not released until she got help from a Good Samaritan, who paid her debt and gave her little money with which she started her maize business.
Conclusively, it is better to learn from other people than being the scapegoat that everyone would learn from. In her case, she got help and that’s a rare privilege. In lieu of this, I plead with all my readers not to borrow from “lapo-lapo” people because of desperation. What would be would be.
If you like this story, please visit http://parroters.com for more...

This article captures the average life of jobless workers in a funny style.
Below are a few of my recent observations about the Jobless Workers.
In a bid to get things done and not remain liable. We Jobless Workers undergo hard treatments. Some from people around and other times the ones we subject ourselves to. Personally, in the last 3 months I have been extra frugal. Not just with money but with every available resources, I now know how to price goods and services mercilessly, chai! Hausa traders and Igbo boys don suffer for my hand. Instead of taking bike I now trek fairly long distances and peradventure someone meets me on the road and ask, why I was trekking, believe you me, I will use every intellectual weapon to convince that person that I was only doing exercise. Help me ask your neighbor, “Who is fooling who?”, if that was just the only case I would be happy o, alas! There are more stories to tell.
In a heart-to-heart chat with an old school mate, he confided in me that he now eats based on timetables. It wouldn’t have been that bad though but the present day government won’t allow any common man to eat three times talk less of a ‘jobless worker’. Someone is asking, what sort of time table…? This type (0-1- 1/2, 1/2-0-1, 0-1/2-1/2), if you still don’t understand those formulae, abeg ask the gods. To support the inhuman timetable, some Jobless Workers have to attend ceremonies without been invited, the type Yoruba’s call “mogbo moya”, in case you have been observing some young men and ladies whose affiliations cannot be traced to either the bride or the groom but their presence at every functions is depicted by unnecessary struggling and mindless lobbying for every; take-away, foodstuffs (cooked and uncooked), desserts and drinks. Now you know who they really are. Those are not their real faces o.
If you enjoyed this episode.
Read other editions on the lifestyle and entertainment column of @ http://parroters.com/the-diary-jobless-worker-7/