I hate the city of Lagos. Lagos hates me too. We’re happy in our mutual feeling for each other.
So let me tell you about one of my experiences in Lagos, a.k.a Ekó, a.k.a Lasgidi, that metropolitan hubbub of contrasts; angels and demons, good and evil in grossly disproportionate equations.
Lagos, where armed robbers divest citizens of their property whilst they’re caught up in traffic, right under the watchful gaze of the Nigerian Police.
Where public fights are as common as rainfall in the tropics and occasionally, its inhabitants display an unbelievable and heart-rending act of humanity.
On my first visit to Lagos, I was pushed off a moving bus. But that’s a story for another day.
On my second visit, I landed in a police station. But that’s a story for another day.
Today’s story is about Mr Apple Seller at Alakija.
I was in Lasgidi for a friend’s…
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