Our story
How we got here
How we met
We met during a chaotic Saturday in Lagos when everything that could go wrong, did. There was a sudden downpour, the kind that floods the streets in minutes, and everyone ran into this tiny roadside buka for shelter. You grabbed the last available seat, which just happened to be across from me. At first, it was just awkward silence and the sound of rain hitting the zinc roof. Then the woman selling food mixed up our orders. You got my overly spicy jollof, and I got your mild one. We both complained at the same time, laughed about it, and decided to just swap plates instead of waiting again. Somewhere between arguing about whether jollof should ever be mild and trying not to choke on pepper, we started talking. The rain didn’t stop for hours, but neither did the conversation. By the time the roads cleared, it felt weird to just go our separate ways. So we didn’t.
