A Day of How, 'Nigerian Market Women Can Lie with Confidence and Pepper'

They lie and vex too much

If you’ve ever bought anything in a Nigerian market, you already know, you don’t just need cash. You need courage, street sense, negotiation tactics, and a good dose of patience. Because Nigerian market women? They’re a different breed. Trained in the school of boldness and certified in the art of confident lies.

You just imagine this, you’re at the market, trying to buy tomatoes, the tomatoes look like they’ve survived three world wars,squished, leaking, and clearly fermenting but the seller looks you dead in the eye and says: "Ah-ah! Madam, na fresh I give you o! See am now, na today I pluck am!"

Madam!. Please!. These tomatoes have seen sorrow. One even looks like it’s silently begging for euthanasia. Funny when you dare to question the freshness? “Ah! Because I be poor woman, you dey insult my goods?! “If you no wan buy, shift go one side!"

Just like that, you're the villain. Meanwhile, you're still holding a tomato that has entered stage 4 decay.

But it doesn’t stop at food. One day, I went to buy a pot. A simple pot. Nothing fancy, just something to boil rice without stress. She brings out a pot that looks decent, and I’m like, okay, cool. Then she hands me the cover.

See eh, the pot cover is bent like it tried to fight NEPA and lost. I try to speak up,"Madam, this cover is not good” The edge was bent and it could barely cover the pot. She looked at it like she was seeing it for the first time. "Which bend? Nothing do am. Na like that e dey! You no sabi pot?" I disagreed and before I could finish, her voice started climbing.

“Eh?! Is it me you’re talking to like that?! I have your type at home o! It's an adult, you're talking to like that”

At this point, other sellers are now looking. Someone nearby is nodding in false solidarity, not even knowing what’s going on. I’m standing there, holding a deformed pot cover and questioning my life choices.

That’s the magic of Nigerian market women. They’ll lie with so much conviction, you start to wonder if your eyes are the ones deceiving you. And when caught in the lie? They flip the script so fast, you’ll leave feeling like you’re the one who did something wrong.

But here’s the thing, we love them. We really do. Their energy, their drama, their no-nonsense attitude, it’s all part of the market experience. We grumble, we threaten to start shopping at the Shoprite, but next week? We’re back again, pricing pepper.

Because even though they’ll sell you a bent pot cover and tomatoes that look like sorrow, they’ll also call you "customer mi," throw in an extra onion, and gist you about their neighbor’s drama while tying your nylon.

And honestly? That’s the kind of chaos that makes Nigerian markets so unforgettable.