Sunday is market day in Muhoroni.
Introvertess connives with my Mum and I am issued with a list that includes ginger and diesel. Isorait. I need a new pair of akalas anyway. I’ll go.
Morning greetings to Mercy and her gang and a quick look at their milk records and I’m out.
The municipal market is pretty well organized.
I am pleasantly surprised.
Fresh ginger iko. Kitunguu saumu iko.
On my way out, however, something catches my eye and it sends my mind on a wild spin.
I think about my normal people problems…and how insignificant they are…
Am I getting enough fibre?
What did that douche say about the dimness of my eyes?
How many Ps should the word Sheppart have?
Should I buy akalas made from BF Goodrich or Ling Long tyres?
Why does this stupid turkey keep pecking at my paint job?
Then the big epiphany.
Muhoroni Disaster Management Office has even bigger problems.
Should they opt for Air Conditioning or natural ventilation?
What would you advise?