My Secret Paradise

The East End market is so underrated as a shopping hub.

To me, it has been a source of escapism.

It feels like I’m in  a new version of Albert Square anytime I visit.

I love the feeling of the fresh breeze stinging my face.

What I learnt on my first market trip was never go on an empty stomach, I learnt the hard way let’s leave it like that. (Just ask my stomach ,when I  had several helpings of jollof rice with ayamese,  despite having a fresh pot of stew at home.

Don’t blame me, street food is one of my vices ,and  local jollof rice  to me is better  than any gourmet jollof rice out there)

 Another tip I’ll say is hydrate before you go around a food market, you may make a lot of rest stops, but the end justifies the means. Especially when you unearth those hidden bargains

You really have to take in the experience of trailing a market.

As soon as you enter you see various stalls, women shouting “do you want your hair done”. (What reassures me every time that it’s not personal lol they ask everyone passing, so I don’t need to book another hair appointment).

When I go past the butcher I get an instant rush, as I know I’ll be covered for a week, and be able to make endless supplies of red stew and Buka stew. (Don’t get excited I’m not a MasterChef, but I haven’t burnt my kitchen yet which is a massive relief for my mum)

Seeing the Ankara tops on display, always saddens me that high street retailers don’t know what they are missing out on.

The community spirit is second to none. The traders are of all different backgrounds, but they work in harmony , and are part of the upkeep of the market.

You feel like it’s their kingdom, and you should be honoured to be there, but luckily everyone is welcome, and there is something for everyone, so you sure won’t leave empty-handed.

What most impresses me about the East End market is the hustle mentality of the traders.

 All of them in some shape or form is on a mission to put food on the table.

My early memories of market life is going to buy moi moi with my mum, and the wind was heavily thrashing this seller’s tent, but the woman was still happy and grateful for our custom, but still, stress was highlighted in her cheeks, as you can tell she was still struggling to sell her stock, and what’s impressive she was elderly, and standing throughout not everyone has that endurance for suffering.

So anytime I want to have a lie-in on Saturday.

 I always think of that woman and snap out of the lazy bug.

I’m always nostalgic about going to the market due to the fact it’s an activity I’ve done with my mum for several years from when I was a little nipper and till, I’m an old girl now.

And it’s a tradition I will continue with my kin.

They say there’s nothing like a shopping experience.

Trust me nothing compares to a market experience.

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