It was loud that day, more than usual. The staccato of voices rose and fell depending on the task of different vendors and buyers. Njeri peered at her customer through her unkempt natural twists. The customer was antsy, tapping her foot on the ground, rolling her eyes every few seconds, chewing her gum stiffly; she all but screamed at Njeri to finish the sale. Njeri was going as fast as she could. The client had picked ten different items of clothing and wanted all ten of them in different mesh produce bags. Njeri had been shoving each item into each bag, careful not to rip the flimsy material, careful not to change the client’s mind as she had not paid yet.
Njeri’s eyes flashed to the tiny girl quietly seated beside the customer. She was holding a piece of plastic; jagged, perfect for digging the ground, fighting invisible armies, baking cookies, or riding ocean waves…
“Fifty mia, fifty mia.”
Njeri blinked, her attention back to her client, who was currently wearing a bored expression on her face. Njeri smiled as she finalized her task, placing the last of the mesh produce bags on the small pile she had created among her strewn second-hand clothes.
Njeri flashed her signature smile as her client handed her a note. The smile vanished when she noticed it was a one-thousand-shilling note. Njeri glanced at the tiny girl briefly before attempting another smile. Holding out the note, she said as gently as she could, “Customer, please send it to my phone…”
The customer responded without missing a beat, “You don’t want the money?”
Njeri felt her chest tighten as her lips settled into a straight, thin line. They stared at each other for a full second. Njeri, waiting to see if the customer would have pity on her. The customer, assuming her earlier antsy behavior, unwilling to compromise.
Njeri sighed, tightened the one-thousand-shilling note in the palm of her hand, glanced at the tiny girl, threw one more pitiful look at the customer, who decided to blow a gum bubble at that particular point, and left to look for change.
It was her first sale that morning, two hundred and fifty shillings, not a bad morning at all. The problem was getting loose change, as many of her friends had not sold anything and the rest were simply unwilling to give her the change. Their logic was simple: if they decided to give out loose change to her, what about when they needed it?
After walking a distance, dashing in and out of stalls, yelling greetings and cackling at jokes, Njeri gave up and made her way to her stall.
As she approached it, she felt something cold at the base of her chest, right before her stomach. Her phone. The clothing items.
How sure was she that the customer had not simply taken her phone and the clothes?
What was one thousand shillings next to her twenty-thousand-shilling phone?
Her mind raced. She began thinking of that friend of hers who had an M-Pesa shop, the katululu she kept on her at all times in the apron she always had on, the payment plan for a brand-new phone…
Njeri laughed in relief when she spotted the customer, hands wrapped around her upper chest area, her expression sour. Her eyes went to her phone, carelessly left near the pile of mesh produce bags with clothing items in them.
She held out the one-thousand-shilling note and shrugged. The customer rolled her eyes, retrieved her phone from her purse and initiated the transaction process. Njeri smiled apologetically as she pressed Pochi la Biashara and typed in the phone number provided. She tilted her head to the side and frowned a bit before the customer shoved her phone into her face to confirm the phone number.
She did, though she was distracted. She hadn’t seen the tiny girl playing. As the customer aggressively picked and packed her belongings in a large sack, Njeri craned her neck from side to side, her eyes scouring for the tiny girl.
“The girl that was playing here when I left, did you see her? Where did she go?”
The customer appeared confused for a microsecond before she seemed to recollect the girl. Her expression softened as she too looked around and then, to Njeri’s horror, shook her head.
“She was here, but I don’t know where she went.”
The customer lifted the large sack and placed it over her shoulder, ready to go, but Njeri grabbed her arm.
The cold feeling at the base of her chest had returned. Her heart was beating in low thumps. She refused to let her mind wander. It was the market, people came with their children every day, they see them one minute then they don’t, at the end of the day they go home with them and these children are beat to a pulp, warned never to stray away from their parents’ or guardians’ stall, right?
“Please, I left you here with her—”
The customer’s eyes widened.
“No, madam. You didn’t tell me to watch her. You just left, so don’t put this on me.”
Njeri was stammering now. For some reason, she couldn’t speak properly.
“N-o, no, I… I am not blaming y-you. I am just asking—”
The customer wiggled out of Njeri’s grip and cut her off mid-sentence.
“I know how this script ends. You’ll say I did something while you were away and that is how I end up in Kamiti for the rest of my life for a crime I did not commit.”
Njeri watched helplessly as the customer walked away hurriedly. Her eyes were watering. Her ears were starting to throb.
Anna would be back soon. She had gone to pick both their loads, fresh from “gikomba.” Njeri saw this task as daunting. Anna didn’t mind, though. She had this ability to maneuver crowds. She could become invisible or a rugby linebacker depending on what mission she was in.
“Mia mia, mbili mia, mia mbili.”
Njeri snapped out of her mental trance and grabbed her phone. She called her friend, Sara, and explained the situation. Sara knew everyone in the market. She promised she would start asking for the tiny girl from her end and work her way toward Njeri’s stall. Njeri began walking in no direction in particular, her eyes wildly searching for the tiny girl.
“What was she wearing, Njeri?”
Njeri stopped mid-step. She couldn’t remember. For some reason, she could only remember the piece of plastic, blue in color, jagged. A bubble formed in her throat. It came out as a strained squeak.
Sara proceeded with the interrogation.
“Hairstyle? Was she carrying anything?”
Njeri’s face was hot now. Tears started streaming down her face. Her mouth went dry. What was it? Lines? Pigtails? Natural hair? In her head, she could see the tiny girl in all these hairstyles. She could even see her with a shaved head.
Sara sighed, told Njeri to focus on asking the people around her stall and hung up. Yes, the people around her stall. All those people must have seen something. The market was full of children, big, small, young, old. Some were even playing and crying and laughing at that very moment.
Njeri cleared her throat as she approached one of the women bent over her strewn clothes.
“Have you seen Anne’s daughter?”
The woman straightened her back, squinted her eyes at her, looked around and then shook her head.
“I remember seeing her near your stall, playing. One minute she was there, the next she was not. But that is the nature of children. I am sure she is somewhere here.”
Njeri bobbed her head before continuing to the next stall. This one was manned by two men. One would yell one price, then another would yell another price. After she had finished her question, they answered her mid-yelling the prices.
“Mia… she was playing—”
“Mia mbili… near your stall—”
“Mia… next to some lady, a customer?”
“Mia mbili… yes, yes, a beautiful customer—”
“Mia… is she lost?”
Njeri felt a lone tear escape her eye at the question.
“Mia mbili… she is here somewhere—”
“Mia… yes, keep looking.”
And she did.
She asked everyone she could. Vendors, buyers, the mad man at the market who somehow spoke French, the preacher, the children. The ones closest to the stall said they saw her at some point or the other, near her stall, playing, next to a customer. The ones further away did not recall seeing her. All were certain that she was somewhere in the market.
Some were triggered by Njeri’s situation to look for their own children.
When one elderly woman asked her what the tiny girl looked like, she burst out crying. The elderly woman was surprisingly warm, offered her a handkerchief from her stock, helped her sit down on a wobbly plastic chair, told her that the market was rowdy, yes, but completely safe.
Anna’s daughter would turn up sooner or later, covered in dust, yelling for her mother and for food at the same time. So, Njeri swallowed her sobs, feeling comforted.
The tiny girl had been coming to the market with her mother since she was six months old. Even then, she was quiet, loud only when she wanted her mother or food. She had spent a majority of her life on Anna’s back, or at her feet, or on her lap. Two years back, she had warmed up to Njeri, a child that normally refused strangers, kept to herself, and Njeri had loved it, enjoying the fact that for the first time in her life, a child was gravitating toward her.
Soon after, Njeri had become the cool aunt, and slowly by slowly, Anna had grown comfortable leaving the tiny girl under Njeri’s care. She would go on errands, even dates with her husband, who worked at a construction site. It was the tiny girl who had solidified the friendship between the two women.
Anna liked to say that the only reason her daughter liked Njeri is because she too is called Njeri…
“Njeri!”
Njeri turned toward the voice yelling her name. She gulped and began moving slowly toward Anna. She watched as Anna let go of the bale of clothes on her back. It was only after she was in front of her that she realized Anna had been yelling for her daughter.
“Mia… mia tatu… Mia… mia tatu…”
Njeri nervously looked around. No one had told Anna yet. She was hoping that someone had, or that somehow, the tiny girl had found her way to her mother. “You won’t believe what those guys wanted to charge me for carrying this bale! Heeeh, have they heard I have no back? I want to go back for your bale. Could you watch Njeri some more? Speaking of Njeri, where is she?”
Anna spun around. Njeri watched as her friend’s eyes searched frantically for her daughter. Just then, Sara appeared, her shrill voice arriving before Njeri saw her. She was screaming the tiny girl’s name while holding out her phone to passersby.
Anna’s face was etched with confusion at first. Njeri watched as confusion morphed into realization, then into panic, then fear, then action.
“Where did you see her last?”
Njeri wet her lips and gave every detail she had: what she was doing, when she first noticed she was missing, who she had asked, the ground Sara and she had covered.
Then she waited. She waited for her friend to scream at her. To blame her. To break down. A slap. A punch. Nothing came but complete silence. For a moment, it was just the two of them there, separated from the noise and movement of the market by an invisible dome.
“Okay, let me call her father. He will bring some of his friends. I will call a few of my friends from different parts of the market and we spread this around. The important thing is that people are aware she is missing so that if they spot her, they just alert us. I also want eyes outside the market in case she somehow left, or, worse, someone took her.”
Njeri was bobbing her head. Anna had said all this in a monotone while looking through her contact list. She started making the calls, and, when she noticed Njeri was simply standing there, she snapped her fingers in front of her face and Njeri started going through her contacts too.
Sara joined them, shaking her head, wiping her forehead with her black scarf. She did not stand there for long. She continued walking and screaming “Njeri” with her phone held out.
Njeri felt a tightening in her chest when she saw the photo. It was the tiny girl standing between Anna and a small boy in uniform at Sara’s stall. Sara sold children’s shoes and she was trying to convince Anna that the ones on the tiny girl’s feet were a fit. As usual, the tiny girl was calm and quiet, her eyes fixated on her potentially new shoes. Anna had returned to her stall later that day complaining about Sara’s outrageous prices. Njeri recalled telling Anna to focus on the tiny girl instead. She was jumping up and down, fascinated by the lights emitted when the shoes made contact with the ground. Anna had immediately stopped complaining. In fact, she had never complained about Sara’s prices again.
The search party searched for hours. The market had many stalls and even more people. Njeri crouched next to a flimsy, squeaky gate. It was what separated the market and the outside wall. She had been through the entire market.
Nothing.
Some said they saw her. Some had not. Some said she had a guardian. Some said she was playing with children. Some thought she was a teenager. Others thought she was a boy. The pressure in her chest had gotten worse and worse as the hours passed.
If at all she had been taken and all these hours had passed…
Njeri shook her head. No, she would not let her mind wander. She had to have hope, had to have faith. God watches over children. That is why children could eat things from the ground and be healthy as ever. The tiny girl was okay. Njeri was okay, right?
Njeri buried her head into her arm and cried.
She cried loudly, snorting and wailing. She didn’t care about the people on the streets. There was a reason the market was called MAD in the first place. After her eyes were dry, she dragged her feet toward her stall. Many asked her along the way if she had found the tiny girl. Some empathized. Some called her careless. Some called Anna careless.
Njeri was too exhausted to respond or to become angry or even feel self-pity. She was just so tired. She prayed she didn’t meet Anna. She didn’t want to see her then. She couldn’t bear knowing that she had lost Njeri.
“Mia… mia… mia… mia….”
Njeri avoided eye contact with those two men. She made a beeline for her stall, pretending she was looking for something very specific. So, she bent down to pseudo-search for this thing, to look busy, to keep the questions at bay. Even if it was only for a moment…
Njeri froze. Tucked in her pile of clothes was the blue, jagged piece of plastic. With a trembling hand, Njeri reached to retrieve the piece of plastic, but it would not budge.
Njeri frowned and pulled again, this time using a bit of force. Once again, she froze. Wrapped around the piece of plastic was a tiny hand. Njeri screamed before grabbing the tiny girl from underneath a pile of strewn clothes. The tiny girl appeared startled.
She blinked, rubbing her free hand in her eyes. There were lines across her face.
Njeri whirled her around, screaming and laughing, laughing and screaming. She bellowed Anna’s name. Then Sara’s. She turned to the woman near her stall, pointed at Njeri and bobbed her head giddily. The woman offered her a smile and a thumbs up. The two men in the other stall paused their yelling of prices and heckled in joy alongside Njeri before returning to their price yelling.
Njeri whirled around to catch a glimpse of someone else, but they were busy selling, haggling, calling out to customers, taking stock of their day. Njeri sighed in acceptance. That was the way of the world. No one really truly takes your burden; perhaps one or two, but the rest… Njeri reached for her phone to call Anna, but before she could dial, she heard her scream her daughter’s name.
Njeri was taken from her arms and hugged ferociously by Anna. Soon, her father arrived. Then Sara and the small search party. The men patted Njeri’s father on the back and filed out one by one. The women rubbed Njeri’s back and made faces at her before vanishing into the crowd.
Sara lingered for a bit, smiling tearfully.
Njeri walked toward her and embraced her.
A year had passed since Sara’s son disappeared on his way back from school. There had been no leads. The police had stopped looking.
For two months, life had stopped for Sara and her family and friends. Even the market had seemed grim. But by the third month, things had begun falling back into place and suddenly Sara kept hearing, “You need to get back to normal.”
A foolish, unattainable sentiment, really. Normal had become such a strange word. Sara pulled away from Njeri, blew her nose and waved at them before making her way back to her stall.
Njeri returned her attention to the family in front of her. Anna was interrogating her daughter, or was it the other way round?
“We have been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because we couldn’t find you!”
“Why didn’t you look for me here?”
Anna was about to respond, but she must have realized she had no response, so she looked at Njeri. Njeri smiled and said, “Because down there is not safe and you have never done that before. We thought you were lost and we were so worried!”
“Sorry, Auntie Njeri. I didn’t mean to do so, but one of the balls fell and when I went to pick it, I saw the clothes and I thought it would be fun to play a digging game in the clothes. Then I thought it would be even more fun to sleep on them!”
Njeri smiled. The parents didn’t.
Long after the trio had left and Njeri had profusely apologized, Njeri sat on her stool and sorted through the new bale that Anna had brought earlier in the day.
The market was less noisy now, yet still chaotic.
“Thirty… fifty… fifty… thirty.”
Njeri had managed to sell some of Anna’s clothes. She thought it was the least she could do, yet the guilt had not dissipated. As she sorted the clothes on her friend’s behalf, her eyes caught something. She reached out and saw it was a red mesh produce bag with a skirt in it.
Njeri thought back to her customer. In all that chaos, the customer had left with only nine pieces of clothing. Njeri shook her head and made a mental note to simply clean out and arrange her stall.
***
Image: Fathromi Ramdlon Pixabay remixed