The air in onitsha market was thick with the scent of frying akara, roasted plantains, and dust kicked by hundreds of hurried footsteps. Traders shouted from every corner:
"Buy your tomatoes here, fresh from the farm"
"Sweet oranges, three for fifty naira"
"Customer come and buy clothes, na correct Ankara".
At the far end of the row, beneath a faded patched with old sacks, Adaora stood beside her mother's wooden table. The table was stacked with trays of hot akara, each ball sizzling, a blackened frying pan, balanced over a charcoal stove.
"Turn them gently" Mama said, her wrapper tied tightly around her waist. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Don't let them burn"
"Yes, Mama" Ada or a picked up the flat spoon and turned the akara, careful not to splash hot oil.
A man in dusty slippers stopped.
"Madam, how much for ten?" he asked, his voice rough but kind.
"Ten for two hundred" Mama replied, counting the pieces until brown wrapping paper. "Here you go sir"
Ada or a leaned in and whispered, "Mama, that's one extra"
Mama smiled faintly. "Let God handle tomorrow. Sometimes kindness is better than gain.
When the man walked away, Ada or a washed herhands in a small plastic bowl, then reached into a torn polythene bag under the table and pulled out an old, workout copy of Junior Science Digest. Its pages were bent and yellowed, but she handled it like treasure.
She sat on an overturned crate, ignoring the noise of the market and began to read aloud to herself:
"The heart has four chambers: two artia and two ventricles"
A group of boys of her age stopped to watch.
"See her oh! Doctor with market hands! " one laughed.
Another added: "Better learn how to fry puff-puff, book no be food!"
Adaora's chest tightened, but she didn't look up. She knew their voices did not matter. Somewhere deep inside, she could feel it, her life wasn't meant to ending the market.
"Mama, she said softly after the boys left, do you think I can really be a doctor?"
Mama paused, looking at her daughter's determined eyes. She reached out and brushed a strand of sweaty soaked hair from Adaora's forehead.
"Yes, my child" she said, her voice firm despite the exhaustion in it.
"Your beginning doesn't decide your ending. You carry something great Inside you. One day, you will heal people. One day, you will see your glorious destiny."
Adaora's lips curved into a small smile. She didn't know how it will happen, but in that noisy, dusty market, under a torn umbrella, she made herself a silent promise:
"I will fight do my dream until it become real"