leaving home every morning at dawn passing traffic at Oyo Road junction greeting vendors balancing bread baskets on their heads as the stench of gasoline stains the Ibadan airclutching thin white napkins, she stands in a hot kitchen frying plantains, cautious of spitting oil, her wrapper prints camouflage the greaseserving children in air-conditioned living rooms, she had rocked them to sleep when they were babies, she loved them like her own