Featured: CITY PIG

If I say that the first time I came to Port Harcourt was in April 2016, I would not be accused of lying. I had earlier spent few months before that time but I was caged up with nanny duties. The only time I went out was for grocery shopping, school runs, church, and hospital.

When I came back much to my dismay it was due to the obligation that I had to serve my Beloved Country. After weeks of living with the pangs of regret, I decided to brace whatever the city had for me, since this time around I had the opportunity to explore.

Fresh out of camp, I had to accompany a friend to shop for few clothes till her consignment was shipped here from the high seas of Lagos where she lived initially. No pun was intended there as the boxes that came in later were enormous.

We asked around for markets and places where we could shop for clothing items. We were presented with many options and decided to visit the Mile One Market. After school, we hurried to the junction to begin our journey to the unknown. We jumped into the first bus that came to us without much thinking, the only certainty we had was the shout of “Park” from the conductor.

Entering the bus, we discovered that there was no seat available for us. The bus was packed full, some sitting, some standing holding on to the rails. That was when I realised that the bus we entered was like a less coordinated Lagos –BRT. I clutched my bag tighter and prayed the journey wasn’t a long one. After about three drops, space was made and we could finally sit and rest our asses.

Soon enough we got to our final destination and I hurried out like a cat in hot pursuit of dinner. More questions followed and we were headed towards the direction of the market. Then I met her or him, I couldn’t tell if the pig was male or female. I couldn’t also tell it was a wild or domesticated animal. But there he was, staring at me almost like it could grunt out the worries plaguing my mind of late.


I came closer to it and it turned away, back to the dirt it was feeding on. I took some pictures before Tabitha dragged me away into the reason for our visit. After about an hour or so, we left the market with a little bag, disappointed because we couldn’t get what we wanted. Her clothes were to arrive in two days’ time so she could still manage.


I headed to the same gate where I saw the pig but met its absence. I was sad for a reason I could not quite figure out. On the journey back home, this time on a smaller bus I wondered if the pig had gone to the slaughter to join its comrades in satisfying the human appetite. I wondered if it would be sold like that or turned into the orange pork hawked on grills by the roadside. Whatever the case, I hoped it did not die lonely or that the butcher’s knife was sharp enough not to cause it too much pain.


Constance Onyeji-Jarret