The Walker

I begin my walk at the street that’s directly opposite ‘work’ and the Coca-Cola woman says ‘good morning’ with a huge smile on seeing me, it is the same smile that greets me when I come to buy Coca-Cola from her. I do not quite like that smile and how she brings out the Coca-Cola and gets the exact change to the two-headed naira note folded in my purse, while I am still saying ‘good morning’. Accepting an addiction to Coca-Cola is one thing but it is the nonchalance about predicting my choices that annoys me. Never mind that my brothers believe they can quote my thoughts on any subject or how friends I haven’t seen in years know to have dodo and Coca-Cola when I visit, I just do not like to think that I am predictable.

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The only thing to fear…

They called it scaling, it was an almost seamless operation with one girl astride the old tank holding a bucket to scoop water. Other girls would carry buckets on their heads waiting to fill them with the scooped water and they would carry the buckets to the small clearing where there were perhaps hundreds of buckets, they would exchange the buckets of water for empty buckets while the girls appointed to keep watch over the water stood silently and menacingly.