HER NAME IS RITA

HER NAME IS RITA!

So Mom had asseverated that next time I want to make stew, I must buy this particular brand of tomato paste. I believed she had her reasons so I decided to accede.

It was a hot Saturday afternoon and the son of man decided to stock his freezer for the month. I stopped by the very first shop in the market. 'Do you have Miss Rita Tomatoes?' I asked leisurely.

The young lady who stood up to attend to me drowned in her own endless giggles. 'You mean Saint Rita?' She quizzed.
'Ooh... Saint....Uhmm...I meant Saint....Do you have Saint Rita tomatoes? I reframed. Her giggles alacritously snowballed into a thunderous laughter. I stood there completely frozen, deluged by a tide of embarrassment.

'Sorry' she finally said, 'I couldn't help it'. 'No it's okay. It's okay', I squelched, with my head inhumed, twiddling with my phone.
'Come onnnnn, loosen up Mister, why are you so damn serious?', she barked, handing me the tomatoe paste.
'Thank you; How much?', I asked.
' It's just 300 naira'
I buried my fingers inside my wallet and exhumed three ruffled hundred Naira notes
'There you go', I muttered and turned around to ramble away in my shame.

'Wait!' I heared.
' What else do you want to buy?'
' I want to buy ingredients for two soups, Afang and Okro.' I said without looking back.
' Uhhm. Why are you coming to the market yourself, don't you have a sister or something?
'I stay alone', I replied, now restless
' So who's going to cook the sou....'
'Myself of course', I cut in, not allowing her to land.
'But How?' she retorted, fighting so hard to hold back laughter that it was evidenced on her voice.

I turned to look straight at her for the first time and my eyes met two bright beautiful dovy eyes, peeping from their sockets. She was about 16, fair in complexion with a prominent forehead, her nose stood prominent like the strait of Gibraltar, she had supple cupid bow lips and I coudn't help but notice the wide dimples that radiated from each corner of her full cheeks as she smiled. Her teeth were tiny like that of a 7 year old and her smile revealed a wide diastema which appeared like it could admit two private jets.

'Oya come let me help you buy' she adjured. I tried as an able-bodied man to protest but she held my wrist and jolted me away urging "follow me joor before they cheat you in this market'.......'Mummy nsuk ndi o', she vociferated out to her Mom inside the shop.

In no time, we were gisting and laughing hard like we'd known each other forever. She bargained with so much passion, as if it was her money that was involved...... her food. '
'Aaah, mma etuk afang ami? ndeppe nkan 500 mbók', I heared her say .....I listened and watched as she killed two birds with a single pebble: helping me to shop and teaching me how to bargain at the same time. I didn't want the buying to end.
'God let the sun stand still. Let us do this buying 'something' till the day of judgement', I muttered under my breath.

But whatever has a beginning, they say,must definitely have an end.

'That's it, Mister! Your condiments for Afang and Okro are ready, she spielled with a simper, handing the 'sac bag' to me'

As if she were a mind reader, she added: 'Don't bother to ask, my name is Rita, I am a level 200 Pharmacy student in UNIPORT. We are on holidays so I came to help out my mom in the market'....... I coudn't believe my ears. Pharmacy? Ooh I just love them from Pharmacy. See my specs o. I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me in......"Shhhhhh.....Don't even try to ask for my number, I will not give you..Goodbye, see you around some other time"

Dear Reader,if you see my Mom, please tell her I want to go back to the market tomorrow, next tomorrow and next next tomorrow. Tell her I want to buy from the market. I might start selling too, who knows? Tell her I just love the breeze in the market. Tell her market is sweet. Tell her I don't want school no more. I just want to be in the market. But if you want to be honest, tell her....tell her I've found love in the market. If she smiles, well then, please smile back at her. But if she cries, tell her.....tell her, Her name is Rita! Tell her Rita is worth it!