Ruthie remained seated on the narrow wooden beside her stall long after Aminata's car disappeared down the road, the soft hum of the engine lingering in her mind like a dream fading too quickly.
The market had begun to thin out; vendors were folding cloths, arranging leftover goods, calling to customers making their last-minute purchases. The familiar clatter of crates, the laughter of children running free after helping their mothers pack, the faint rumble of distant music—all blended into an atmosphere Ruthie knew intimately.
Yet today, the world felt different.As if a door somewhere had quietly cracked open.As if the wind carried whispers of a future she had never dared to imagine.
Ruthie pressed her palms together, rubbing them gently. They were worn and rough, marked by years of scrubbing, lifting, carrying, and surviving. She lifted them to her face, letting out a long, trembling breath.
"A logistics company…" she murmured to herself. The words still felt foreign, almost unreal.
She pictured tall buildings in Banjul or Serrekunda. Offices where people walked confidently in clean clothes. Places where the hum of computers replaced the clamor of market vendors. Rooms filled with organized shelves, files, documents, structured systems. A world she had only glimpsed from the outside.
Could she truly fit into a place like that?Could someone like her—who had spent years balancing market stalls and minor jobs—step into a company that sounded so far removed from her daily life?
Ruthie swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight, not with fear, but with an emotion she had not allowed herself to feel in years: hope.
Yet even hope cast a shadow.Her mind drifted back to her mother, Awa—motionless on her bed some mornings, struggling through slow, painful movements on others. Awa's condition had stabilized over the years, but the remnants of her stroke still lingered in her speech, her mobility, her strength.
Then her thoughts shifted to her sisters, Mariama and Isatou, growing taller now, their voices maturing, but still children in many ways. They depended on her guidance, on her stability, on her presence in their fragile world.
What if she left the market stall for a job she might not keep?What if the little income they survived on crumbled?What if she failed?
The questions pressed against her chest like a weight, making her breath shallow.
"No," Ruthie whispered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I've survived worse. I can survive this… even if it's new."
Mariama and Isatou arrived from school, their footsteps quick, their laughter light. They carried their worn backpacks, their uniforms slightly dusty.
"Ruthie, did you see the woman that came earlier?" Isatou asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "Her car was so big! I've never seen something like that up close!"
"She looked beautiful!" Mariama added, twirling her braid. "And she talked to you like… like she knew you from before."
Ruthie smiled softly. "She did. Her name is Aminata. We went to school together when I was your age."
Mariama's eyes widened. "Really? Then she must've been really smart. She looks like someone who works… somewhere important."
Ruthie hesitated before nodding. "Yes… she did well for herself."
There was no envy in her voice. Only the faint ache of knowing how differently life had unfolded for them both.
That night, Ruthie moved through the house with a quiet intensity. She swept the small yard, washed dishes, prepared a simple meal of rice and stew, and helped Awa with her medication.
But her mind remained elsewhere—caught between fear and possibility.
When the house settled into the soft silence of night and her sisters slept peacefully, Ruthie lay awake beneath the patched mosquito net, staring at the rusted zinc roof.
Aminata's words echoed in the darkness:"You're disciplined, hardworking, intelligent—qualities they value.""I'll talk to my cousin.""This could open doors you didn't know existed."
Ruthie closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.No interview had been arranged yet.No promise had been confirmed.But the idea of it—the idea that something could change—was enough to stir restless dreams within her.
For years, her life had moved in a predictable rhythm:Wake.Work.Care for family.Sleep.Repeat.
There had never been room for possibilities, for dreams, for the unknown.
But now…Now she felt something transform within her.A quiet courage.A small flame sparking to life.A still voice whispering: "Try."
The next morning arrived cool and pale, the sky still streaked with the remnants of dawn. Ruthie stepped outside with her basin to fetch water, but her spirit felt lighter, her steps more purposeful.
Every movement was the same—yet it felt entirely new.She washed her face.Braided her hair neatly.Prepared the stall.Helped her mother.Packed lunch for her sisters.
But her eyes kept drifting to the road, wondering if she might see Aminata's car again.Wondering if Aminata had spoken to her cousin.Wondering if—somewhere right now—a new chapter was quietly preparing to unfold.
She chastised herself gently."Don't count on it. Don't expect too much."She had known too much disappointment in life to rely on hope.Yet hope remained, stubborn and unrelenting.
When Ruthie arrived at her stall, several nearby vendors greeted her with warm smiles.
"Maa Ruthie, you look brighter today," one woman said.
"Did something good happen?" another asked.
Ruthie hesitated. "Not yet," she replied honestly. "But maybe… maybe something might."
The women exchanged knowing glances, nodding with encouragement.They had watched Ruthie grow from a quiet, burdened child into a resilient young woman.They had seen her sweat, struggle, sacrifice, and survive.They wanted something good to happen for her—something real.
One elderly vendor touched Ruthie's arm gently. "My daughter… when God decides it is your time, no human being can block it. Even if the door is far away, it will open."
Ruthie felt her eyes sting. She smiled through it and whispered, "Amin."By late afternoon, the bright sun had mellowed into a soft warmth. Ruthie was packing her last few goods into a small plastic bowl when her sister Mariama pointed at a figure approaching from the roadside.
"Ruthie! Someone is coming!"
Ruthie turned—and froze.
Aminata was walking toward her.Not in her luxury car this time.Not with tinted windows or a rushed schedule.But on foot, smiling warmly, her handbag swinging gently at her side.
"Ruthie," she called, her voice carrying with ease across the narrow market path.
Ruthie stood slowly, her heart quickening.
Aminata reached her stall, slightly out of breath but glowing.
"I hope I'm not interrupting your work," she said. "I wanted to come personally… to follow up on our conversation yesterday."
Ruthie swallowed hard, palms suddenly tingling."Y-yes… of course… you're welcome."
Aminata smiled reassuringly."I didn't talk to my cousin yet. I wanted to discuss something with you first—properly, privately.Before I take the next step."
Ruthie's heart thudded loudly.Hope flared.Fear trembled beneath it.
Aminata continued:
"I want to understand what you want.What you're prepared for.And what kind of job you think you can handle.Before I push anything forward."
Ruthie stared at her, breathing slowly, deeply—knowing that this moment, this conversation, this turning point…might shape the course of her life in ways she could not yet see.The sun was lowering itself gently over the clustered roofs of the market, painting the corrugated iron sheets in warm bronze. The day was wearing out, but the market was still alive—voices rising and falling like a restless tide, footsteps shuffling on dust, the smell of fried plantain drifting into the evening air. Ruthie sat behind her small wooden table, counting her meager sales with slow, tired fingers when she heard a familiar call:
"Ruthie… Ruthiiie!"
It was Aminat's voice again—steady, warm, unmistakably confident. She approached with the easy grace of someone who had seen better days, lived better days, and worn them around her like a perfume. Her bag hung loosely at her side, and she smiled as though the world had not disappointed her even once.
Ruthie stood up, smiling faintly."Aminat, you're back."
"I told you I would come," she replied softly.
There was no pity in her voice—only a calm, nostalgic affection, as if time had simply pulled their paths apart and was now knitting them back together again.
They moved away from the noise of the market, finding a quiet corner near a closed stall. The setting sun cast a soft glow on both of them, illuminating Ruthie's tired eyes and Aminat's hopeful ones.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Aminat exhaled deeply, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt before facing Ruthie fully.
"Ruthie…" she began, gentle but firm. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day—about everything you've been going through."
Ruthie swallowed, her fingers interlocking nervously."It's life," she whispered. "Everybody has their own battle."
"Yes," Aminat agreed softly. "But not everyone deserves to fight their battle alone."
Ruthie's throat tightened, but she said nothing.
Aminat moved closer, her voice lowering as though she carried a delicate secret.
"There is something I want to tell you," she continued. "I didn't want to rush it the last time because… you looked overwhelmed. But I've been thinking about you—truly thinking."
Ruthie blinked, surprised."Thinking about me?"
"Yes, Ruthie. How could I not?"
The old childhood tenderness flickered between them like an old lamp reigniting.
"You were one of the smartest girls in our class," Aminat said. "Everyone knew it. You always had answers, always tops in exams, always helping others. You were the girl people believed would go far. And even now—after everything—you still have that fire in your eyes. I can see it."
Ruthie inhaled slowly."This fire does not feed anyone," she murmured. "It only burns inside me."
Aminat reached out and held her hand.
"That can change, Ruthie."
The market noise faded around them. Even the wind seemed to slow down, listening.
"My cousin," Aminat said meaningfully, "owns one of the biggest logistics companies around here. A proper registered company with staff, offices, departments… everything. They deal with trucks, warehouses, supply systems, dispatch riders—real structure, real salary."
A small, fragile hope flickered inside Ruthie, but she suppressed it immediately."Aminat, I don't think I—"
"Please," Aminat cut gently. "Let me finish."
Ruthie nodded.
Aminat continued, her tone warming as she spoke:"My cousin is a good man—strict, yes, but good. And he always loves intelligent people. He values loyalty, hardworking people, and people who don't give up."
Then her eyes softened even more.
"And you, Ruthie… you have been fighting your whole life. That alone shows the kind of person you are."
Ruthie looked away, blinking quickly."I don't have qualifications. I only finished secondary school. I didn't even write JAMB. I didn't—"
"Ruthie," Aminat said firmly, "listen to me. Many people working there didn't have half of what you have. Some were trained on-site. Some only had street wisdom. You… you have both book sense and survival sense. That is gold."
The wind blew lightly, lifting the edges of Ruthie's wrapper.
Aminat's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper:
"If you want… I can talk to him."
Ruthie's heart gave a soft, uneven thump."You mean… talk to him for me?"
"Yes."
"To… get a job?"
"Yes."
Silence fell like a soft blanket.
Ruthie breathed deeply."Aminat… you don't understand what you're offering. My life has been… it has been like carrying a mountain on my head. Every day I wake up thinking of my siblings, my mother, food, drugs, rent, everything. A job… a real job… is like a dream I don't allow myself to dream."
Aminat squeezed her hand."Then allow it now."
Ruthie looked at her, eyes trembling.
"Why me?" she asked quietly. "You have many friends. You know many people."
Aminat smiled.
"Because my heart chose to remember you."
A long silence followed—soft, warm, and almost holy in its stillness.
Then Aminat added:
"I won't promise that it will be easy. I won't even promise that he will immediately say yes. But I will talk to him. That is a promise. And if he agrees, you will go for an interview—even if it's just a conversation to see if you fit."
Ruthie nodded slowly, profoundly moved.
"But…" she hesitated, "I don't have CV. I don't have clothes for office. I don't—"
"Shhhh," Aminat said, raising a calming hand. "One step at a time. Let me talk to him first. If he says yes, we will prepare everything together. I will help you. You are not alone in this."
Ruthie pressed her lips together, fighting tears."Thank you, Aminat."
"No," Aminat answered softly. "Thank you. For reminding me what strength looks like."
Ruthie looked down at her small wooden table in the distance—her tomatoes, her pepper, her sachet water, her small dreams laid out under the fading evening sun. The entire world seemed to hold its breath.
"Do you want this?" Aminat asked finally.
Ruthie raised her eyes—wet but clear.
"Yes," she whispered. "I want it."
"Then let me handle the rest," Aminat said with a smile.
And just like that, hope—shy, trembling, fragile—returned to Ruthie's life like dawn returning after a long The orange dusk deepened, curling around the edges of the market like a quiet flame. Traders were packing up, children were running in loose circles, and the murmurs of evening prayers floated from a distant mosque. Ruthie and Aminat remained in their quiet corner, wrapped in a moment that felt too delicate to break.
Aminat checked the time on her wristwatch and sighed softly.
"Ruthie," she said, her voice warm but tinged with urgency, "I think I should start going home now. It's getting late."
Ruthie nodded, though a small ache formed in her chest. She didn't want the moment to end—not when hope had just begun to stretch inside her like a waking child.
Aminat held her shoulders gently."But before I go, listen to me very well."
Ruthie lifted her eyes.
"I meant every single word I said earlier," Aminat continued. "As soon as I get home—the very moment I drop my bag—I will talk to my cousin. I will tell him everything. I will ask him if there is any vacant position in the company."
She paused, tightening her gentle hold on Ruthie's shoulders.
"And Ruthie…" her tone deepened, carrying certainty like a promise stitched with faith, "I am more than sure there will be a vacancy. Companies like his always need smart, loyal people. And trust me… you are exactly the kind of person they want."
Ruthie's lips trembled slightly."Aminat… are you sure?"
Aminat smiled with quiet confidence."Trust me, my dear. There will be a vacancy. I know my cousin. I know how his company works. And I know you deserve this chance."
A soft wind blew between them, lifting Ruthie's scarf as though the air itself wanted to join the promise.
Ruthie exhaled slowly."Thank you," she murmured. "I don't even know how to thank you."
"You owe me nothing," Aminat said firmly. "Fate brought us back together. Maybe for this exact reason."
She stepped back, adjusting her handbag, ready to leave.
"But please," she added, softer now, "don't stress yourself tonight. Don't allow fear to fight hope. Just… breathe. Rest. And let tomorrow carry what tomorrow should carry."
Ruthie nodded with damp eyelashes.
Aminat began walking toward her car, heels tapping lightly against the dusty ground. The tinted window slid down halfway as she opened the door. She leaned her head out again.
"Ruthie!"
Ruthie looked up.
Aminat smiled—wide, warm, reassuring.
"I will call you tonight. Even if it's late. Expect my call."
Ruthie's heart fluttered."I'll be waiting."
"And Ruthie…" Aminat's voice softened to a whisper, "your life is about to change. I feel it. Strongly."
The window rolled up. The engine hummed. Then, slowly, gracefully, Aminat's car pulled away from the market, leaving behind a thin trail of dust and a trembling ribbon of new hope.
Ruthie stood there long after the car disappeared from view, her hands pressed over her chest, feeling her heartbeat flutter with something she had not felt in years.
Possibility.
She looked toward her small wooden table—the peppers arranged neatly, the sachet water stacked, the tray she had been using since childhood. For the first time, it did not look like a prison. It looked like a chapter.
A chapter that might finally be closing.
The market lights flickered as traders lit lanterns. A mother called to her child. A cart pushed past, wheels grinding on gravel. Life moved on around her, but Ruthie was still suspended in that single moment, as if the world had paused just long enough for her to feel the shift happening in her destiny.
She whispered into the fading evening:
"God, help me."
Then she wiped her face, lifted her small tray, closed her table, and began her walk home—each step lighter, each breath steadier, her heart no longer weighed down by despair, but lifted gently by promise.
Tonight, she would wait.
And tomorrow…a door might finally open.