That defining moment.
It wasn't a coincidence that my stomach rumbled as I walked past the Ewa-agoyin stand that was on my street. Sadly, I had used my feeding money for today and tomorrow to go for the interview, and a broke person shouldn't have cravings. I knew I wouldn't get the job when the interviewer looked at me to say they'll get back to me, distractedly as she gestured for the next person to come in. Dusting the file in my hand, I took my cue to leave and started trekking home. The past weeks of futile job searching reminded me of why I chose freelance photography after graduation. Unfortunately, getting gigs isn't so easy and I have to fend for my aging mother. I can't allow Maami to starve because of my coconut head that refuses to work a 9-5. That's why I dumped my camera and dusted my resumé. “Where are you, Amina?” A text from my friend, Bisi interrupted my train of thought but I ignored her message, not in the mood. “Alfred Michaela is in that supermarket oo, opp
