The Waters Have Gone Crazy
On the third of August, this month, in Osogbo Osun State, a powerful downpour destroyed many lives. Traders, mostly, were affected. Then businessmen, then roadside sellers, then shop owners, then people whose source of income had drowned away. When I heard the news, from returning hagglers, I knew instinctively that I had to see the casualties. I got to the market, and nothing felt strange. Yes, nothing – maybe not at first. The river had filled up, its contours making gruff splashing. Aboki children hung everywhere. The traders seemed too sparse, too unconcerned; their eyes, bloodshot, floated. Into the market I saw a young girl who I knew sold foo-foo. The last time I bought from her, I told her I wanted eeni, extra, but, fierce, she said: the foo-foo had been counted. And now the foo-foo are gone. Perhaps not, only something in her that unhinges. The market seemed to transform, into hoards of sad people – traders who sat by their spread drowned rice, or beans, or yams. ...