This fear deepened as the noises pounded from the busy traffi c, the busy construction and the busy people, especially when the bus dropped them outside the general market.
The rain was not that heavy but far more than drizzle. They entered a narrow street between two rows of small shops, staple goods and street food. The water shining on the ground was dull, oily and sticky. A mixed fi shy smell greeted them and grew stronger as they reached the busy center of the market. Despite the cheerful sounds from the vendors, the two sons fi rst looked around with curiosity but soon became pushy, wanting to leave the place. Before she actually bought anything, however, they had walked more than halfway round the market. It took a long time, much longer than necessary for her to buy anything. What to eat? What to eat? For long this had been her daily question. So long that she couldn’t even remember when this had become a question. Almost every time, even before she got to the market, she would count her money and think how long it would last. Her aim, of course, was fi rst to save as much as she could and meanwhile to please her husband as much as possible. Not because she thought it was right but because she was afraid.