How a meeting in the market changed my perspective, one humdrum day…
Have I ever told you about the time I was a lot tired and a little bored on a humdrum walk to the market?
“Excuse me, Madame, do you need a coffin today? I have big and small ones, or I can make any that you like.”
In the open market, people sell everything. Just about anything you could imagine lines the roadside, laying on a blanket, or neatly displayed in a small shop.
Yes, even coffins. Headstones are more rare — they’re a luxury too expensive for most. Fewer people are peddling those in the market.
The young carpenter, probably no older than sixteen, was making his living. He was working hard — another day, another dollar. People need coffins.
Provide something people need — isn’t that the cardinal rule of success in business? Something they can’t live without.
Well…
Another day, I needed one, but that’s a different story.
Not that day.
That day, I was going to the market for ordinary things. Daily things. On my way to the market, my mind was on the heat, on the haggling over tomatoes and the long walk through crowded and dusty streets. To be honest, I wasn’t all that excited to go to the market. It was a chore.
Shaking my head, I offered an apologetic smile to the young man, who was disappointed at not having made a sale. I drew in a long breath of the lively market air, swirling with the aromas of roasting meat, rotting vegetables, sweat, fish, standing water. An old friend used to call it “the smell of humanity.”
That day, it became the smell of alive. That day I was going for tomatoes and not a coffin. That day I was breathing and stepping over stones and mud puddles, around goats and small children as they dashed underfoot. Tired and hot and smelly and alive were the market and I.
A group of children paused their game — a dance-off, apparently — and came along beside me. One girl slipped her hand into mine. “Dance with us!” She began moving her feet in a well-known dance, commonly practiced in play and celebration, singing through peals of giggles. A friend of hers turned a bucket into a drum keeping time. Others clapped, sang, or joined in the dancing.
I joined in too — how could I resist such a timely invitation? The kids found it hilarious that I couldn’t do the moves properly, but shouted encouragement as we danced together. “Yes! Keep trying!”
Finally, out of breath, sweaty, happy, we laughed and high-fived and went our separate ways: The kids to get up to more games and giggles, or maybe evening chores. Me, to finish getting my groceries.
As I went back to filling my list of fruits and veggies, I walked a little more lightly and breathed a little more deeply.
Some days it’s a win to just keep breathing.
As long as you’re breathing, things can change for the better.
As long as you’re breathing, the weight of grief lifts a little after a while.
As long as you’re breathing, you have another choice, another chance.
Keep that breathing deal going, okay?
Then, when we get through those “just keep breathing” days, believe me, days come when we get to do more — for others and for ourselves. So take a deep breath, one foot in front of the other.
The important thing is that today you are here.
Today take your time, be alive, and breathe in the day. I’m so glad you’re here.
“Excuse me…do you need a coffin today?”
“No, thank you, not today.”
“Oh, it’s okay, it’s okay. May you please remember me if someday you need one?”
“Yes, Ssebo, I will remember you. You do good work.”
“Thank you for appreciating my work! I work very hard.”
“Yes, it’s clear you do. Have a nice day.”
“You also, Nyabo.”
To each of my friends and neighbors (yes, you – reading this right now!): your hard work is appreciated. You are seen, noticed, and making a difference.
Treasure it.
Believe it.
Live it.
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