Joy to Joy

Chapter Eight

After church service, mom drives us to dad's office to pick him up. With all of us in the car some minutes later, mom let go of the steering wheel as we wait for the traffic light to change.

"So, should we buy bananas for today's fried rice?"

I wonder if Faith is already back from mass must already be back from mass service. I am a Protestant, and my church service ends later than hers. Regardless, she might not bother me. Faith has been quiet lately.

"Oh, is it because I paid for the repair of my car engine that you think I have money?" Dad queries mom, and I scratch the scalp of my head harshly.

His car was bought used and has been in the family for over a decade, and I believe it needs to rest permanently. But just like my admission, he refuses to budge.

Mom takes us down the street when the traffic light turns green, and the only sound made in the car is from the car engine.

The roads are empty except for the wavy green trees and cattle feeding on shrubs and herders.

I still do not know why buying fruits had to breed a fight.

Near a grazing cattle lay a figure under the shade of a tree. I draw closer to the car window and see a woman in a wrapper sleeping, with a baby sucking at her breast.

"Really? She is sleeping there in the open?" Mom talks to no one in particular, with her nose nearing the seat window.

"Do you think she has a house? Please take us to where they sell bananas. I remember now that I have 350 naira with me."

Kai, daddy.

Parking the car in front of a building with traders of different foodstuffs, dad signals the two teenagers at the edge of the street, and they hurry towards our sienna bus in a frenzy.

Dad turns to me in the back seat. "Joy, some traders are selling bananas for 400 naira, but watch me negotiate the price to 350."

Wearing a sleeveless dress, I use my hands to fan myself as the sun's heat prickle my skin.

They arrive, and dad winds down his window.

The boy grins. "Oga."

"Yes, how much for the banana?"

"Em, 2500-naira sir."

"Get out! Get out of here. See this small boy oo, what nonsense!" Dad snaps at the outrageous price. I cover my lips to avoid bursting out in laughter.

The girl fidgety moves forward. "Sir, mine is 800," She whispers.

"There is no food at home. Sir, please," The boy stares desperately at my dad.

The two seek like they are my age.

Dad does not respond for a moment and considers it.

"What about 400," Dad pities her.

"Sir, please add 200."

"Sorry, dear," He nudges my mom to drive us away.

As we leave for a nearby plaza, I steal a look at the child hawkers. The boy returns to the dirty end of the road with who I presume is his sister. They both hold their fruits in the air as cars speed past them. There is a look in their eyes that they would have something to eat for the night.

They could inevitably be leaders someday.

The next trader we approach is much older and next to a well-known store with a bouncer guarding its entrance.

When dad tells my mom to stop there, he faces the lady.

"Give me some banana."

"Okay," She hurries to a wide tray with fat ones on it.