17/01/2026
IYA BUKOLA
The smell came before the sunrise, thick and heavy, crawling through the Oshodi–Apapa expressway like a living thing. It wrapped itself around bus conductors shouting destinations, dragged sleepy drivers out of their seats, and made men who swore they were not hungry suddenly swallow hard. By 5 a.m., a long queue had already formed beside a brightly painted roadside restaurant with a bold signboard that read Mama Bukola Foods. People stood quietly, clutching plates, nylons, and hope. Some had no money and were already washing plates, scrubbing pots, or sweeping the floor just to earn a scoop of rice. Nobody complained. Nobody joked. Hunger had silenced everyone. Those who had eaten there before wore a strange look, half satisfaction, half desperation, like people who knew something they could not explain. The food was more than tasty. It pulled you back. It followed you in dreams. It made other meals taste like punishment. As steam rose from the giant pots, no one noticed the way Mama Bukola stood apart, watching them with eyes that never softened, eyes that did not look like they belonged to someone feeding people.
But this was not how her story began. Years earlier, Mama Bukola was invisible in Lagos. Her old buka sat beside a blocked gutter, flies dancing freely on uncovered pots, her soup thin and tasteless. Customers mocked her openly. Some insulted her food and walked away laughing. Others treated her like dirt, tossing coins at her feet as if feeding a beggar. Many days, she cooked from morning till night and sold nothing. Hunger slept beside her. Shame followed her everywhere. She washed plates for other vendors just to eat. When her landlord threatened eviction and her child was sent home from school for unpaid fees, something broke inside her. Lagos had chewed her dry. That was the night she stopped believing that hard work alone could save her. That was the night she followed a whispered direction to a native doctor deep inside Ikorodu forest, not knowing she was stepping onto a path that would feed her stomach, destroy her soul, and poison an entire city.
