On Market, Morals, Commerce, and Other Forms of Civilization

There’s something sacred in the smell of a busy market, in the shouts of traders calling to customers, in the warmth and pulse of humanity you find there. Walking through rows of open stalls, with vendors selling everything from spices to vegetables to fabrics, is like stepping into a part of life that’s ancient and alive all at once. The sound of laughter as a customer haggles or the serious look of a butcher at his work—every part of it seems woven together, forming a tapestry of resilience, hope, and survival.

Maybe I feel this way because the market has always felt like home to me. My mother, a trader, built her life here, day by day, deal by deal. Her world was the famous ìdùmòtà market in Lagos, one of the largest markets in West Africa. This was a place so big it had neighborhoods, each area known for a different kind of trade. From here, she would later move to the bustling Dantokpa market in Cotonou. I remember the smell of the air, the hum of people moving together, and my mother, always with her sharp eye, showing us how she built her life.

She didn’t just show us how to make a living—she showed us how to live. “Come and see how money is made,” she’d say, as she invited us into the daily rhythm of her work. She didn’t mean just the literal exchange of cash for goods. To her, making money was a whole philosophy. It was about effort, integrity, and respect. Watching her work, I learned that every sale was an agreement built on mutual need and trust, a quiet covenant between buyer and seller. My mother wasn’t just a trader—she was a philosopher of the market, teaching us that commerce, at its best, is an act of humanity.

The market, as she showed me, isn’t just about survival; it’s about connection. Every deal she made, every relationship she built, was rooted in respect for the other person’s life and needs. And in these crowded markets, whether ìdùmòtà or Dantokpa, she taught me that each transaction was an opportunity to honor those values. The essence of the market is far more than just business—it’s a gathering place, a crossroads of human lives, where people come together to build something greater than themselves.

As I grew older, I began to see that the market itself had evolved in incredible ways. What began as the trading of simple goods—salt, spices, grains—had, over centuries, expanded to include stocks, bonds, oil, and even digital assets like cryptocurrency and NFTs. Markets have now moved into the metaverse, into virtual worlds where digital art and experiences are bought and sold. Yet for all these changes, the spirit of the market remains the same. Whether it’s a physical stall in ìdùmòtà or a virtual item on the blockchain, at its heart, commerce is still about people coming together to exchange value and fulfill each other’s needs.

My mother’s life as a trader may not have made her rich by society’s standards, but what she gave us was a wealth of lessons that shaped who I am. She showed us that a meaningful life isn’t measured by fortunes amassed but by the values upheld through every small transaction. She may have traded only modestly, but the legacy she left me was invaluable. She taught me that real success is about building something honest and good, no matter the size of the venture.

The market has always held a mirror to civilization itself. It shows us how people come together, how they negotiate, respect each other’s roles, and rely on each other for survival. The marketplace, to me, is a symbol of what’s best in society—a place where cooperation and competition exist side by side and where people can build dreams.

Commerce and trade have the power to lift communities, but they need space to thrive. Free trade should be encouraged, but it must also be fair. Nations should respect each other’s boundaries, but they should also help balance each other’s needs. Prosperity isn’t just about individual gain; it’s about creating opportunities that allow everyone to flourish. The market, when allowed to thrive, is a civilization unto itself, one that reminds us of our interdependence and our shared humanity.

To my mother, the woman who taught me that the market is not just a place but a way of life, I owe so much. Her legacy lives on in every decision I make, in every principle I try to uphold. And to the market itself—a space filled with laughter, struggle, and resilience—I offer my gratitude. May it remain untroubled, a place where humanity’s deepest values find expression, and may it continue to be a bridge that connects us all.