The Reunion (Nigerian Themed novel)

🌹23🌹

Victor's POV

So, Aunty Ireti kept going on and on about a friend of hers she wanted to visit. She had stated earlier about both of us strolling around, so I could get a bit familiar, since it wasn’t possible knowing every hook and crooner of the town in just one day.

My dilemma evoked when she had started to budge me about a close friend of hers at a hospital  whom she wanted visiting. Stating clearly that I  must tag along.

So few hours later, after series of direction from her end, I had parked the family Toyota at a market square with Ireti alighting down with a handmade basket she held tightly.

I trail behind her taking light steps since I wasn’t familiar to my surroundings. We stop at an open fruit stall where she starts to exchange few words with the fruit seller. Soon she is dropping different varieties of fruits into the basket almost fulling the basket to the top and I am left wondering if she had bought all those fruits just for one patient. No doubt it could feed a whole family and still remain.

“Don’t worry. I will pay,” I offered withdrawing my wallet from my pocket, when I had noticed her movement on her purse to withdraw some wads of cash.

 “How much is it?” I question the  short, pot bellied seller with huge stripes of horizontal lines across his cheek.

This tribal mark of a thing.

The pot bellied man looks at me confused staring from Ireti to i.

“He doesn’t hear English,” Ireti broke in with a smile translating the few words I had spoken to him in Yoruba which he nods to immediately, also returning a response in Yoruba.

“He says it’s five thousand naira,” She translated, but stared at the fruit man inquisitively striking a conversation in Yoruba again with the fruit man responding back in Yoruba. But this time, with  annoyance etched on his face.

“He can’t sell this for five thousand. It’s too expensive,” She directed her gaze to mine holding the basket up. “ Just apples, oranges, pineapple and watermelon. He is ranting nonsense.”

Although she maybe right, which I wasn’t much sure of because the basket was filled up with the items she had listed. The probability of what the seller was tagging as the fruit worth was evident.

He just could be right.

Exhausted and uncomfortable with the audience that started to stir in, I tap her shoulder lightly withdrawing the required amount from my wallet.

“It’s okay. I will handle it.”

She made an attempt to still protest but I  nudged her to the elbow slightly to calm her rising nerves. She could be right but we can’t stand here creating an audience because of just five thousand naira.

We returned to the car in silence and I ignited the engine driving out of the market square.

“How comes you lack in Yoruba?” She broke the silence glancing up at my direction. I sighed my eyes still trained to the road fidgeting with the best words to answer her question.

“I didn’t grow up here. But I am trying.”  Was the response I could come up with.

“Hmm. I doubt if you’re trying. You’re la lacking quite alot.” She replied shaking her head slightly. I return a chuckle earning a wide eyed glance from her end.

“You’re not suppose to smile atall,” She reprimanded folding her arms. “ I will sure teach you a few words before your departure.”

“Is that even possible?” I almost snicker remembering quickly this woman was a couple of years older than I was.