Lagos is where I was married, had my children, and have been living since birth.
I sell fresh fish and process them for customers. I get to the market early daily, except on rare instances. Before most customers would arrive, I had already set up for the day’s activity with my sharpened knife and clean, prepared water. Once I set up, business has started. There is no official opening time, no formal structure, except for sanitation day, which runs for a few hours.
As the day goes on, customers come inside the market to buy, while some would only ask for the price. Some days are good. Some days are not. If fish does not sell, it spoils. There is no backup plan for that. So, the ones I bring with me to the market are minimal.
One thing is certainly common among them, they don’t greet much. They don’t explain much. They just say “Madam, your money,” more like they kept money with me and they’ve come to collect it.
Some people come with printed papers like tickets. Some come with nothing. But both of them demand money. So, someone like me without a shop with doors or keys is still paying heavily despite being a family person. Where I sit on the ground, with bowls, knives, and fresh fish is my business.
As a seller and market woman, getting and retaining customers is not only a problem. Selling also comes with constant payments. Aside from the transport fare from my house to the market, ₦1,500 drops from me here often as usual payment. My feeding, clothing and other expenses are not involved as part of expenses yet, not to mention accommodation. And for a small business like mine, every naira matters. We all know how expensive that is. It affects my finances, affects my mood, and mental health.
I have built my whole life around and in Lagos. So, even when I thought of going elsewhere, the question ‘where will I go?’ pumps my heart. Yes, Lagos is stressful but I have customers here I can’t afford to lose. Even if I leave Lagos (which is impossible), do I know what I will face there? I may not even sell as much as I do here. This business is what feeds me and I support my husband with it.
I was once in debt and while struggling to pay, it was challenging coming to the market. In fact, my presence in the market then was not frequent because of the situation at hand then. Managing family, thinking about business made it more difficult. I had used all the money I had to offset debt and was left with nearly nothing. With the little left, I managed to begin resurrecting my business. I was already losing my customers because I was not regular. Even when I show up for the day, it would be late against my usual daily routine. The most shocking part is that all of these do not concern these collectors. The only thing that concerns them is money. I was able to bounce back eventually but it wasn’t easy. Every business owner is passing through a lot.
As narrated by: Feyitola Adewale (Ikotun, Lagos).
This snippet is published as part of the series, The Art of Taxing Poverty.
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