I like your shop……
I like the bay windows and wide open walls ….I like the no walls….no windows no roof…what ambience you enjoy….what feeling of space!
I like the black tarmac that is the counter upon which your wares rest
Is that all the stock you have….but those cannot even be worth the sunglasses I have dorned to shield my delicate eyes from the glare of the sun
Have you not heard of roofs or sunblock….I see the uneven pigmentation on your face……. your eyes squinting permanently against the glare of the sun
….I guess you have not heard the airconditioned supermarkets where you can sell your wares
Don’t you have baby care facilities….a crèche?
The black tarmac is too hard for the delicate bottom of your little boy….see how he cries as you attend to my whimsical buying
I see he would like me to lift him up…. he is sooo sweet the brown chubby face
But I cannot lift him
His small fingers are dusty…he has been crawling on the tarmac
I see his bottom is bare
Have you not heard of diapers?
They are only worth your daily profit put together!
As I haggle over the ten shilling profit you are making….he tries to get to your lap…you are too polite….so you brush his small fingers off..
.your man neighbour does not waste such time with hagglers like me….and idlers who walk around the market for the fun of it…
“Ing’iewo; koso ingi’ya ka kwenda uko!!!”
That went over my head a little till I get the translation
I agree with him….perhaps if I bought your ware for the worth it is and stopped wasting your precious time asking for prices instead of haggling you would have food on your baby’s table and perhaps afford 50 shillings for a daily baby sitter T