You remember, don’t you?
Your father spoke highly of Lagos—the fine city with many riches, and buildings that kiss the clouds. You dreamt of living there, didn’t you? You claimed you would journey to Lagos, make money, and in a few years, build mansions in your name. How did that turn out?
It’s been six years.
Do you live in a big house now? Don’t you live in a shabby house, with dilapidated chairs? Don’t you sleep on a mat, in a bedbug infested room?
Please come back to the village. Your sisters miss you.