The COMedy Rumble: African Mothers at it again!!!!

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I was simply enjoying my cold morning alone, very deep in one of the most beautiful dreams I have had this year- I was in my private penthouse with two big and black beautiful women sitted side-by-side with me, life was good and beautiful until I heard "FAVOR!!...FAVOUR!!then it occurred to me that this voice was not from the beautiful ladies in my dream, it was rather a familiar voice from a familiar source in real life that I have heard before.

Lo and Behold, I opened my eyes to see my mother standing in front of my bed. "This can not be good", I reasoned. An African mother screaming your name very early in the morning and standing in front of your bed like the eiffel tower.

I was so close to replying her "Mom, why are you shouting my name", but then I remembered that the last child who spoke back to his African mom never made it alive,"So I applied wisdom which they say is profitable to direct" by holding my lips, if not everyone reading this post would have been paying their respect to @gone-hive for a life wrongly spent after died at a young age for responding to an African mother.

I greeted her in the most humble manner possible, and she ignored me, and immediately erupted in anger. I could see the veins in her neck shooting out as she said, "I would have to roll on the ground before you follow me to the market.". She immediately switched to reverse psychology by using this sympathy line. "So, you cannot just help me in doing this after everything I have done for you as a mother,"

I was speechless wondering how she switched from being a dragon to a dove in milliseconds,the miserable tiny voice in my head said, "You want to make the poor woman cry right now, just follow her and be a good son." So I responded to her, "I will follow you, I have been busy but I am sorry,"

Saying yes to her appeal was my biggest error. Dear Kings, I am begging and appealing

"NEVER IN YOUR LIFE GO TO THE MARKET WITH YOUR MOM, SISTER, OR GIRLFRIEND."

She first made a pledge to heaven and earth that we would not waste time in the market.She made it clear that it was going to be a fast in and out operation and I smiled like I had just won the lottery and replied, "Okay."

I quickly got ready, and then we headed to the market. It was not even up to two minutes inside the market when my mother spotted her friend and immediately my mother turned into the Minister of Information and Communications.They went from one gist to the next, they talked about their friends, families, church gossip, and other stuffs that did not really interest me...

The annoying aspect was that I had to make eye contact with my mom by winking and blinking at her to get her to conclude the discussion. Her response was- "What is wrong with your eyes?, are they itching or scratching you? Get out of the sun so it won't disturb you."

I had just unlocked the first stage of grief which is Denial. I could feel premium and hot tears building up in my eyes... "How could you treat me like this?"😭

I could hear nothing but tiny miserable voices in my head asking, "What is this life, if I had known I would have stayed back at home".I wanted to tell them to "shut up" so bad but my funeral would be in the market.

The National Convention between herself and her friend finally ended. We could finally get moving. She said we had to go inside the market to obtain the items, and she wanted to buy beans first. That wasn't the issue, though; on the way to the store for the beans, she noticed a store selling traditional lace materials, and the next thing I heard was, "These lace materials are looking good oh, lemme just ask how much."

Mummy, for crying out loud na, there is no lace material on your list to the market; how did we get here?..The next thing I heard after going to check them out was "How much" Someone call 911 for me, there's an emergency... I'm about to have a heart attack. My mum is getting ready to execute another stunt.

She actually spent more than 30 minutes pricing the lace materials, simply moving up and down different amounts like she was trading candlesticks. Well, guess what? "Don't worry next time, I'll come and buy," she eventually said.

So tell me why we stopped in the first place, please.PLEASE HOW DID WE GET HERE.??.When we eventually arrived at the beans shop, she brought the quantity she needed...

She now had a body cream item she wanted to get. I'm not even aware of the name, let alone caring if she gets it or not. She acknowledged having a favorite seller.I pleaded with her to get it in a shop closeby instead of walking far again, for once she said I had some wisdom in that statement...We got to the shop closeby and she said for it, the woman called the amount which was $5

My mother started shaking her head in disagreement with the seller about the price and told me to follow her to her preferred seller...We had to walk into the market again to get the shop and we got it for $4.5....."MUMMY HOW CAN YOU DO THIS BECAUSE OF $0.5"....

This was me in stage two of grief which is anger...The 43 muscles needed to smile on my face had gone to less than 6

African Mothers are specialist when it comes to pricing down the cost of a product..My mother should be in Oxford or Cambridge University tutoring students on the art and science of Pricing down the cost of a product

This woman literally priced a product of $10 down to $3...Even when she said $3, I even screamed loudly with the seller.The eye contact she gave me to behave myself needed no interpretation...The message was clear and well received -" Shut up your mouth or you will pay this $10 at home"

I had just stepped into stage three of grief which is bargaining...At this point, I just surrendered myself to the stress, I decided immediately not to fight the pain.

After going through the list of items on her list to buy and she had noticed we have not gotten 50% of the items.. My mother decided to turn her legs into car wheels, for some reasons my mother had turned into the female version of "The Flash", it was now me who was trying so hard to keep up with her pace inside the market.."MUMMY PLEASE SLOW DOWN, I AM MIGHT BE YOUNG BUT GETTING OLD"

As if that was not enough, the sellers in the market increased my pains by holding or dragging my cloth while trying to walk fast so I could look and buy from them

I just kept hearing voices saying- " Check my market", "Do you for to buy bra or pants", "Fine boy, sweet boy come and see"," Customer, I have it here"

The way they were dragging me, I almost wanted to shout stop dragging me,I am broke and in deep trenches...Drag my mother, she is the one with the money
I felt like offering myself as a burnt sacrifice to all them..just share me into different parts,pick any part of my body you want..I have seen enough already 😭, you guys just unlocked stage four of Grief which is depression.I never knew accompanying your mother to the market could be included as 1000 ways to be depressed.

My Super Flash Mother finally remembered she came to the market with a son..She decided to wait for me to catch up only for her to say "you are too slow for my liking"...why won't I be slow when you are doing 120 mph per seconds with your legs

She had seen enough activity for one day and was satisfied with everything she had gotten from the market.. I was so delighted and relieved that it was time to go...
But rain decided to grace the occasion with its presence and we failed to come out with an umbrella.... Tearing rolling down my cheeks as I remembered how she promised we would not spend the entire day in the market .We had to go inside the shop of one her favourite seller to take cover, while the rain was falling, I could hear the song by Bebe Rexha playing in my head

"Home
A place where I can go
To take this off my shoulders
Someone take me home"

At this point, I had just stepped into the final stage of grief which is acceptance.... It is said that "It is hope that kills"..My entire body system had accepted that it was a day of pain, anguish, long suffering, tears, sorrows and deep grief.

We left the shop with me carrying the heavy loads and smelling like all the food products inside the market...My soft palms were literally bleeding red and crying for me to save them but I dare not complain to my Mother...

She would remind me if all the food she has been feeding me at home was for waste...So I had to behave myself and bear the burden with a fake smile on my face because even squeezing your face in an African home is a prisonable offence liable to insults from your parents

We got home and she ended by asking me "I HOPE YOU ENJOYED TODAY", I guess we all know the answer

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