"Unforeseen Collision: My Encounter with a Lagos Street Vendor"
Since I came packed into my new apartment in Ebutte-meta, I have had these "evangelists from hell," posing as neighbors, who the devil, in collaboration with my ever-plentiful in wickedness village people, commissioned with 70-cm shovels to uproot the fibers of my destiny. I can't really give a detailed account of how myself and these guys rose to the point of being "paddies," but one thing I can still very much recall is the event that joined me in unholy matrimony with these guys. One of them had knocked at my door one hot Sunday afternoon to ask that I borrow him my water fetcher (Guga, as Hausas call it), and innocently, without hesitation, I did. As far as my 1860-degree voltage brain can recall, I guess this is the only sin I committed: lending that guy my property and, most importantly, forgetting that "Nah from clap dem take dey enter dance." And it was the lending of this fetcher that led to "Boss how far" and "Chairma