The sun was scotchy, and as its heat intensified, so did my fatigue and hunger.

I doubled my steps, my mind working out shops to pass by and what to purchase so I wouldn’t get home and regret purchases that should have been made.

Occasionally I would turn to be sure some reckless driver wasn’t headed my way, ours was the global capital of lawlessness and there was no point going to sort any matter at the police station.

You may, if you’ve got loud cash.

I will always remember the taxi driver who once told me that these days when anyone insults him, he simply apologizes even if he wasn’t at fault, and walks away quietly.

He said he was looking for money, not trouble. He wasn’t ready to waste precious working hours in prison over kola nuts, or some other petty issue.

I looked ahead, and not too far from me was a woman, perhaps in her early fifties, carrying a huge load. Saucepans, brand new.

But the load was obviously too heavy for her age and condition, and at a point she seemed to be hurried on, dragged along by the weight of what she carried.

She was soaked in sweat, and her attire worn out from overuse. Her feet and the slippers on them were dusty from her long treks.

I was moved by the sight. And all I could whisper in prayer was, “Oh God, please let them buy her goods.”

Perhaps, she was given the goods to sell at a commission. It was a common thing for many who had no money to buy the goods and sell at a profit.

Definitely she would bypass many who  wondered where her children were, leaving an elderly woman of that age and condition to work under stressful conditions like these. And there will be some, who would find  reasons to blame her for the situation she finds herself.

But while they’re all at it, she’s got needs to meet, and children to feed.

If you stay at one place lamenting your plight, you might die of sorrow and the world will still be here, spinning out the spirits of the dead, welcoming newborns, and neighbours will be celebrating new achievements, and no one would even bother to sneeze in remembrance of some sad soul that’s no more.

She’s taken her destiny into her own hands, and those of her dependants. Whether it’s raining fire or ice, she’ll thread the scotchy suns of these tropics, comb every corner of the city, sell whatever she must, even if it means her last underwear. She’ll be there for her dependants, while she’s still alive.

Their fees, their hospital bills, their food, water and sweets, all dripping from those sweats and tears that fell from her face. She must be strong. The world doesn’t pity the poor. It rewards those who rise, and fight.

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