*Mujaheed, 44, is a married pepper miller in Mushin. He thought he found companionship in the arms of a younger herbal mixture hawker. But months into their undefined relationship, he’s slowly realising he may have been played all along.
This is Mujaheed’s story, as told to Adeyinka
I’ve been married for 10 years, but I don’t know if that’s the right word to use anymore. My wife and I live in the same house, but that’s about it. We haven’t had sex in over two years, and we barely talk beyond things about the kids or what’s missing in the house. It’s like we’ve both quietly accepted our marriage is dead, but no one wants to be the one to leave first.
So when I met *Rofia, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I just wanted some warmth and companionship. She hawks herbal mixtures around the market, and she used to pass by my stall while I was grinding pepper. That was how we started talking. She’d stop by, say “hi”, and show me some of her mixtures. Sometimes I’d buy, sometimes I wouldn’t. It was casual. She was friendly and really lively, and this energy reminded me that I could still bag a hot babe.
Then one day in August last year, she came to my stall with swollen eyes and a face that looked like it hadn’t seen sleep in days. I asked what was wrong, and she said her mum was sick in the village in Ibadan. She had bills to send back home, but hadn’t made enough from hawking that month. I don’t know why, but I felt her pain. Maybe it was how her voice broke when she spoke, or perhaps it was just my soft heart. I gave her ₦30k. That’s three days’ worth of grinding pepper, but I didn’t even think twice.
After that day, she disappeared for two weeks. There was no hawking, no visits, and I even thought she had ghosted me. But then she returned and said she’d travelled to Ibadan to care for her mum. Her mother even called to say thank you. That was the beginning of everything.
We started spending more time together. She’d come to my stall in the evening, and I’d walk her to where she stays. Other times, we’d hang out at pepper soup joints or cheap hotels. There was no “Will you date me?” It just happened. I started sending her money regularly — sometimes ₦5k, sometimes ₦10k, once even ₦50k when she said she wanted to buy a second-hand phone to take clearer pictures of her products.
People say herbal hawkers are promiscuous, but I thought Rofia was different. She was soft-spoken, respectful, and she didn’t dress like some of the other girls who sold sex and libido enhancers.
But then she started doing this thing where she’d go completely off radar for days—sometimes two or even three weeks—no hawking, no visits. I’d call, and she’d say, “Ah, bros, my stomach has been paining me,” or, “One of my sisters needed me.” It started to happen too often.
One day, one of the butchers beside my stall — a talkative guy who sees everything — mentioned he’d seen Rofia at a beer parlour with one of those NURTW guys. I just laughed and said nothing. No one really knew we were together, so he wasn’t trying to shade me. I kept it in my chest.
I didn’t say anything to her that day, but the next time she came around, I asked casually, and she laughed like I was joking. She said he buys herbal drinks sometimes, and that was the only relationship between them. I didn’t press it, but my head was spinning.
About a month later, we went to a small hotel on the other side of town. Nothing fancy, just one of those places where nobody asks questions. But one of the attendants acted funny when she saw Rofia. She was looking at her like they were familiar, even though she didn’t say anything. After we left, I returned the next day, slipped the girl ₦2k, and asked her what was happening. She told me Rofia had come there the previous week with another man.
I should’ve ended everything then, but I didn’t. Instead, I gave the girl my number and told her to call me the next time Rofia came with someone else.
It happened about three weeks later. I was just leaving the market around 9 p.m. when my phone rang. The hotel girl said Rofia was there again with another man. I couldn’t make it there in time, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was up.
When I confronted her, she didn’t even act guilty. She looked at me and said, “You never told me you were married. You think you can hide your own secrets and call me out for mine?”
And she was right. I never told her I had a wife. I let her assume I was single or maybe divorced. But that was because I didn’t want to scare her away. I didn’t know she was juggling other men, too. She said, “We’re not in a relationship. You never asked me out. I never agreed to anything.” That hurt because I realised she was telling the truth.
We were never official. It was just vibes, money, and sex. Since then, I’ve stopped expecting anything serious. We still see each other sometimes. She still comes around after hawking, and sometimes we go to the same hotel. The truth is, the sex is crazy, almost addictive. She probably sleeps with other men, but I don’t even argue anymore.
I’ve reduced how much I send her, though. I no longer send her random money like before. If she needs something, she has to say exactly what and why. And even then, I think twice.
Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. A married man in his forties, sneaking around with a herbal hawker who doesn’t see me the way I see her. But what’s the alternative? Go home to my wife who won’t even touch me? Spend the rest of my life pretending I don’t miss being desired?
At least with Rofia, I feel wanted even if it’s just for an hour or two, even if it comes with betrayal. I don’t know how long this thing will last. I know there’s no future here, but I’m just trying to enjoy the little attention I can get before time completely passes me by.
So yes, I’m still seeing her. I don’t expect anything serious anymore. I know she’s for the streets. But maybe that’s all I can manage right now. Because what else is there?
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