My late mum, Mrs Josephine Amodu, laughed heartily, letting her body go as she giggled her way to the dining table. There was a half-eaten garden egg in her hand, the seeds dotted across her face like a beauty pattern. She was still giggling when I walked in. She was in the company of one she fondly
```
Members Only

Login or create an account to continue

This article is available to registered BusinessDay readers. Please login if you already have an account, or create a new account to continue reading.

New to BusinessDay? Register now and start reading.

```

Social Issues

Join BusinessDay whatsapp Channel, to stay up to date

Open In Whatsapp