THE WOMEN WHO DO NOT RIDE CARS LAUGH

An experience I remember clearly is being stranded at night in Yaba market, watching the scramble for buses that arrived only in reluctant trickles. Men, stronger and louder, of course elbowed their way through the bus doors, turning entry into a contest of force.

Nearby, a few women who sold gala and drinks sat quietly, observing the chaos with practiced eyes. At some point, noticing how disadvantaged a handful of us ladies were, they leaned in and whispered a simple instruction: "make una enter from boot"

So while the men struggled and pushed at the door, we slipped in quietly through the boot. And that was how we got home that night.

That experience stayed with me and made me wonder how many quiet truths these women have gathered from their small corners on the roadside; how many life hacks, how many survival lessons they have mined simply by watching the world pass them by. And how, on hard days like the one I’ve shared, such knowledge can become the difference between being stranded and being saved.

And so, this piece is a tribute to the everyday women who hawk on the streets and sell in the markets - the women who do not ride cars, yet form a vital part of the rhythm of daily life and carry stories, lessons, and quiet secrets in their hearts,

enough to last a lifetime.

This is an ode to them.