Ọnụọgụgụ ụda

In a small market in Ibadan, two women sold the same rice. Aisha’s rice was good. Very good. But her stall had no name, no color, no sign. People bought from her only when they happened to pass. Right beside her was Mama Tunde. Her rice was also good, but she had something more. Her stall had a bright yellow cloth, a small sign that read “Mama Tunde’s Family Rice”, and everyone knew her smile and her story. When people entered the market, they didn’t ask for rice. They asked, “Where is Mama