Participant Profile

                                
Mama's Market Madness
In Zaria, Saturdays meant market runs with Mama. She called me her "handbag"—assistant, bag carrier, and scapegoat. One Saturday, we went to Sabon Gari market. Mama, dressed like a general, bargained fiercely. A tomato seller shouted, “Madam, na burial price be this!” She smiled and paid less. Suddenly, a goat chewed Mama’s bag. She screamed, I chased it, slipped into okra water. The market roared with laughter—even the goat looked confused. Mama cleaned me and said, “You try, my handbag.” We returned home soaked, with food—and a story I’ll never forget.