A Real Problem Kid.

  So I decided to leave home and come down to Lagos, just 3 months after my NYSC passing out parade, and after the living conditions at home were becoming too unfavorable, unresideable, and too stressful.   The "This boy, go and hustle" type of look my mom was already giving me and the "May God remove this kind of reproach" cough my mom was giving me already indicated that I was entitled to less than 32 "Mummy, thank you" in that house. The "And this is useless, elder brother, we were placing the hope of an iPhone on" gaze by my younger ones and the "We can't keep shouldering your responsibility" type of fatherly advice my dad was steadily dropping was already giving me a clue of how impossible it would be to live in that house until I found my foot. It is as impossible as residing within the borders of Israel and Gaza without digesting one or two missiles or riffles. Even though no one was yet to outrightly tell me (of course,