Nyanya Wednesday Market: A Meltingpot for Serious Business Minds, Jokers and Jerks

By Ernest Omoarelojie 

“Buy pish, buy pish, buy pish", a rather unkept young fellow with a fish-filled tray on his head chanted. Not stopping at that, he literally thrusted the tray in my direction perhaps hoping that a closer look at the enticing freshness would sway my resolve. Truth be told, the fishes smelt sweet and looked great, so much that I was momentarily tempted to consider buying some. However, I had to ignore the urge because it wasn’t the reason I visited the market. There wasn’t enough money to indulge in any out of budget purchases.

I weaved my way round the fish merchant, into the now surging crowd of traders and buyers, intent on finding where I'd get a solid pair of school shoes for one of my daughters. But until I moved out of earshot, I couldn’t help enjoying the fish merchant's accent-tainted "buy pish" trade song.

As quickly as I shook off the fish merchant's insistent calls, many more soliciting distractions sprang up. Making my way deeper into the slow moving, surging crowd became a romance with determined detract ions as I was confronted by more hawkers, including those announcing “Leda (leather) and Paiko (Bagco) bags. Truth is, they made brisk sales than anyone can imagine given the volume of buyers who needed the bags to take home their purchases.

Hawkers with basin loads of pure water and the ubiquitous Okpa, a South East delicacy, were also not any easier to evade. One of them actually made the point of standing directly on my path, practically daring me to go without making a purchase. Behind her stood another hawker chanting the "Fia Wata” refrain. It was a case of, if you buy Okpa, you must, of necessity buy water to push it down. Unfazed and unconvinced, I gently turned down the solicitings from both of them, intent only on purchasing what I went there to get in the first instance. 

But by then I was left in no doubt that I was in for a Helluva welcome party to the Nyanya’s Wednesday Market, a melting pot for serious-minded, business-inclined Nigerians, jerks and jokers included. 

Grace, not her real name, a dark, ‘bosomly’ young woman, was the first person that attracted my real interest. She was one of those flashing PoS vending machines everywhere around the market.

“PoS”, she announced, looking straight at me.

"How much are your charges,” I asked her."

"One Hundred Naira for N5000," she announced. Her charges were different from a number of others who insisted on collecting N300 for every N10,000. I had no intention of losing N100 for any reason. So I decided to do business with her.

While she was busy going through the transaction routine for the amount of money I requested, I seized the opportunity to engage her on happenings in and around the market, having found a convenient spot from which I watched the enthralling madness, I am told, is the character and nature of the market. The overwhelming horde of heads milling about was too much to be ignored.

Piam, Piam, Piam, Piam, she went about her business before pushing the little contraption towards me.

“Wetin I fit see buy for dis market,” I asked her without looking up from inputting my pin code.

“You go see any OK you want,” she replied, counting my money,

“What is OK,” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Okrika,” she said, matter of factly. Okrika is the trade name for all secondhand material of every sort. I asked if I could find XYZ. She answered in the affirmative, pointing in the direction.

She was right-Nyanya Wednesday Market is the home of every imaginable kind of second hand goods. This much is self-evident from the road side down to the interior of the market where every space is taken to display items. The items range from the locally fabricated cooking contraptions, clothes of all hues and brands, the more intimate pants and brassieres, leggings, panty hoses, just name them. They are all in great supply quantities and copious display.

Done with her, I remained in my corner, assured I did well to find a hiding place to soak-in the enthralling scenario while my wife did her unhurried and seemingly endless bargaining. I would have been out of my wits if I hadn't used the time she spent bargaining to also attend to my journalistic instinct right inside the burstling market.

The good side is that while being cocooned in the corner, I got a full dose of the exhilarating comical antics some of the traders employ to grab buyers’ attention and make real money.

"Come and see wetin you dey look for since,” I heard one of them singing.

“Shame no dey again o. Tinubu economy don remove dat one.

"See better pant wen fit you well well. E nor dey tear, e nor dey spoil kwik. Na di kain one your guy go see for ya body and wan kpai for you. E nor cost. Na only N300 for one," the second hand pant vendor went on and on.

Not surprisingly, many young ladies were already gathered about her, bent over, selecting and picking pants and more used pants of their choices.

Nearby stood three young men, dipping their hands into a heap of used leggings, tights and pantyhoses which they flipped with so much theatrical relish while highlighting the qualities. Their choice of words was trite but suggestively enticing, ignored mostly by the bunch of ladies hunched low as they gathered whatever soothed their fancies.

"See correct legging, see imported tight. If you wear am, ya leg nor go dey open any how. E go tight no bi small..." I could not help smiling while assimilating the import of the message. For whatever reason, one of the ladies found my smile offensive. She probably was ruing over why such ribald trade jokes would elicit smiles from an old dude like me. But as far as I was concerned, her dagger-looking frown was like a downpour of water on a rock, without any effect.Unconsciously, she succeeded in making herself the focus of the bileful innuendos. One of the young men who noticed her mien urged her to buy or move on instead of just occupying precious but scarce space. I had to smile the more while she hesitantly bent over to select her choice.

Truth is, the lurid advertisement or any knowing smile didn’t deter majority of other ladies from packing as much as they could.

Although I could not confirm it, I was told that boutique owners frequent the place to buy what is referred to as first grade-pants, tights, panty-hoses, brassiere, name them, included. I was also informed that they usually come very early to the market while the bales were being opened, to pick the best. They, my sources said, were long gone before regular buyers flock the market. If nothing else, the manner ladies rush to select and pick the items in their numbers seems to suggest that the intention is to resell them.

Nyanya Wednesday also attracted notorious thieves and pickpockets the same way it does sellers and buyers. They constitute the jerk party in the market and come in their number. I was also informed that loss of money was no longer a big issue. The presence of PoS vendors took care of that. But the case with theft of phones is a different kettle of fish altogether. It is a fad in the market. In fact, everyone is reminded of the need to hold tightly to one's phones and other gadgets because of their prowling presence.

Market sources told me that their operation modus is simple but effective-create a stampede during which they pick the pockets and bags of unsuspecting individuals.

Overall, I had an enthralling experience in the ever burstling Nyanya Wednesday Market, located in the outskirts of mainland Federal Capital Territory, FCT. You should be there.