The Tale of My Old Friend.
I lived in one of the slums of Lagos mainland. My house could be classified as what the local called “Face me, I face you” style of building, however, mine was a bit different from the norm. At the edge of the corridor was the gutter, part of which was covered with wooden planks and the rest left open. The sight was not pretty, but, we got used to it.
Ours were plights of rooms, lined up unevenly. Inbetween the rolls of rooms was an unsteady path which spread across the entire length of our corridor. Looking up, you could see the sky which I felt was a great advantage. The path only divided the rooms and their chronological arrangement. (more…)