Burco Livestock Market
"She dominates Burco's livestock market—a thick ebony widow who's the biggest buyer in Togdheer. When he comes studying pastoral economics, she offers lessons. Some lessons are private."
Burco is livestock central.
Where the pastoralists meet the markets, where camels become currency. Asha buys more than anyone—for export to the Gulf, for meat to the cities, for everything.
I come studying pastoral economics.
"University professor?" She examines a camel's teeth. Fifty-five years old. Two hundred and fifty pounds of market dominance. Ebony skin, practical clothes, the authority of someone who commands prices. "What can I teach you?"
"Everything. How it really works."
"Mashallah." She finishes her purchase. "Follow me. But keep up."
I struggle to keep up.
She moves through the market like a general—inspecting, negotiating, commanding. By afternoon she's bought more than any other buyer.
"How do you do this?" I ask.
"Forty years of practice. Started with my husband. Continued without him."
"How long without?"
"Sixteen years. He got sick. The stress of business. I've been alone since."
"Alone but powerful."
We're having tea in her compound.
"The biggest buyer in Togdheer. Respected by every herder."
"Respected, yes." She looks at me. "But respect doesn't keep you warm."
"Sixteen years is a long time."
"A lifetime. Sometimes I forget what warmth feels like."
"Would you like to remember?"
"Come to my house tonight."
After the market closes. Her wealth evident but not ostentatious.
"You've been here three weeks," she says. "Watching me work. Never treating me like a curiosity."
"You're not a curiosity. You're remarkable."
"Subhanallah." She touches my face. "Sixteen years since a man called me that."
"Then let me show you."
I worship the livestock buyer.
In her home filled with the wealth of generations. Her body is the finest stock—ebony curves, heavy breasts, powerful belly.
"Sixteen years—" She gasps as I undress her. "Lix iyo toban—"
"Tonight I'm not studying. I'm buying."
I lay her on her bed.
Generations of pastoral wealth beneath us. Her body is priceless.
I spread her thick thighs.
Inspect the goods.
"ILAAHAY!"
She screams—sixteen years of market dominance finally being purchased. Her hands grip my head.
"Don't stop—" She's shaking. "Dhakhso—"
I bid on her pleasure until I've won. Three times.
"Inside me—" She's pulling at me. "Ku soo gal—close the deal—"
I strip. She watches with those buyer's eyes.
"Subhanallah—premium stock."
"Best in market."
I push inside the livestock buyer.
She screams.
"So full—" Her legs wrap around me. "Don't stop—"
I pay in full.
Her massive body shakes. She comes twice more.
"Fill me—" She's begging. "Complete the purchase—"
I release inside her.
We lie in her wealthy home.
"Your study," she murmurs. "What did you learn?"
"That women run everything. That the economy is female."
"Wallahi?"
"Your market. Your rules. Your power."
One Year Later
My book changed understanding.
Pastoral economies, women's power, Somali success.
"Macaan," Asha moans as the market bustles below. "My best investment."
The buyer who dominates Burco.
The woman who bought my heart.
Sold.