Every Choba market day,(a popular marketing Port Harcourt ) while most kids were still curled under their blankets or playing catch, I was up, ready to chase my purpose  even if I didn’t fully understand what that meant yet. My mission? To help my mum sell her mouthwatering snacks: buns, doughnuts, fish rolls, egg rolls, and bottles of refreshing zobo.

“Buy your sweet egg roll, fish roll, doughnuts!’’  

That was my chant, my melody echoing through the lively, noisy market. And trust me  mummy's snacks? Top tier. Fluffy, golden, and tasty enough to sell themselves. My voice was just the extra seasoning.

It didn’t take long before my bucket would be empty, my shoulders light, and my feet racing back to mummy to collect another round. The demand was real, marketers asked for more. They knew quality, and I loved that I was the one delivering it.

I did this consistently until I got into boarding school. I thought mummy would still allow me to hustle, but she sat me down and said, “You can rest now. You’ve tried.”  

But I wasn’t ready to stop. Business was no longer just a chore  it had become part of me. I wasn’t only selling snacks, I was learning life.So during my breaks, I’d still follow her to Choba market. This time, I was assigned to sit at a spot and sell like the other women. But sitting didn’t feel right. The market wasn’t moving. I was watching others shout, sell, move, and I was stuck. So I stood up, packed the snacks on my head, and did what I knew best I entered the market. Moved through the crowd. Sold everything. Again and again.

When I ran out of snacks, I dashed back to my spot, collected more, and this time headed to Choba court, where I had my loyal customers. One said she bought from me because I was “neat and respectful.” Another loved that I never begged  I simply offered, smiled, and moved.

Some of my classmates teased me.  

Market girl!  

Hawker!

But I had my comebacks.  

“At least I’m not being chased around for school fees like you.’’

Okay, maybe that was rude  but I was just a child, defending what I believed in.

Today, I look back and I smile. That little girl with snacks on her head, sweat on her forehead, and fire in her heart she’s me. A testimony. A business girl. And I’m not stopping.

From hawking to branding. From selling buns to building Pekee Empire, where we offer pastries with purpose and joy in every bite.