I lay in bed this afternoon thinking of what to eat for lunch. I then remembered the plantain and egg pie recipe I saw on a YouTube channel. I thought to myself, “bangdadadang! If I get this right, I may even blog about it. Itoro are you super smart or what?” I decided to go to the market to buy some plantain and eggs but it began to rain. So I said let me sleep for a bit (because weather for two) but then I woke up after 5pm.
In Uromi, there’s no such thing as evening market, so imagine the haste with which I was putting on sweatpants (no Itoro, you shan’t discuss the wardrobe accident this haste caused). I ran out of my house and took the first bike I could find to the market. I was trudging through mud, searching for ripe plantains, going deeper and deeper into the now thinning market place. I finally found some barely ripe plantains (they were still green at the top). The seller said it was 400 naira per bunch. Plantain wey no even ripe well o! I said I wanted it at 200 but she refused. So I stuck my nose in the air as the customer that I was and walked away. She was calling me back to buy at 350 and later 300 but I didn’t even turn. Those plantains weren’t worth my time, I said to myself.
By the time I got to the other end of the market, it dawned on me that I had entered “one chance”. All the plantain sellers were nowhere to be found. I was near tears. I finally found a tray full of miserable looking plantains and I jumped for joy. Five minutes later, the tray owner was still AWOL. The neighbours didn’t even know the owner of the tray. I spotted some black fruits that looked like berries. I decided it would be interesting to buy and after confirming that they were fruits called “Oriri” I bought some. The plantain owner still didn’t show up. So I decided to carry my shame on my head and return to the first plantain seller.
Thank God I have sense, brethren. I carefully watched the tray from a distance and noticed the last bunch being bought off the tray. I would have gone there to disgrace my family.
In the end, I bought Indomie. Yes, I braved the cold, raced to the market, swam in mud, just to buy noodles. As if I hadn’t suffered enough, I got home to realise that I had no water. So I couldn’t even cook the noodles I bought. My stomach is growling as I type this. “What of the Oriri?” you may ask. Let’s not go there. That thing tastes like betrayal.
I have already shared the blame among Edo state, the rain, the plantain sellers association of Ojuromi market and my landlord. Itoro is hungry. She shan’t be blamed.