Many of the women I spoke to rely on small loans from cooperatives, ajo/thrift groups, or informal lenders to keep their businesses running. The loans are rarely for luxury; they’re for restocking goods, covering transport costs, or surviving slow market periods. I watched women carefully decide how much to borrow, knowing that whatever they take must come back with interest, regardless of how sales go that week.

What makes it harder is that business money and family needs are often deeply intertwined. A good sales day might mean buying extra food at home or paying part of a child’s school fees. A bad sales day means tightening everything smaller meals, delayed payments, and constant mental stress. I saw women mentally separate money in their heads: “this one is for loan repayment,” “this one is for tomorrow’s stock,” “this one is for the house.” One mistake could throw everything off balance.

Despite the pressure, repayment is taken very seriously. Missing a payment doesn’t just affect one person; it affects trust within the group. I noticed how women would wake up earlier, stay longer in the market, or sell at lower profit just to meet repayment deadlines. Some even borrow small amounts elsewhere to cover a loan installment, promising themselves it’s only temporary.

At home, these women still carry the emotional load caring for children, managing households, and sometimes supporting extended family. I’ve seen them return home exhausted, yet still check homework, cook, and plan the next day’s market strategy. They rarely complain openly, but the weight is always there.

From my perspective, market women in Oshodi don’t juggle loans and family needs because they want to they do it because there’s no pause button on responsibility. Their lives are a constant balance of risk, discipline, sacrifice, and resilience. Watching them up close taught me that behind every small stall is a woman managing finances, family, and survival with remarkable strength and quiet intelligence.