Sabango

Nancy was her name before she decided to move back home two years ago. She had raven hair which was always braided in finger-sized weaves. She had dark skin and her beauty, average, did not turn heads. Her decision to move back home came after she visited the village to bury her grandmother three months before. She had been amazed by the length of the queues which appeared in front of Mama Bose’s eggroll and buns shed every evening. More than the queues, what had amazed Nancy was the terrible quality of Mama Bose’s snacks. And Nancy had thought, because she studied catering professionally in Lagos, that if she moved back home and opened a small snack business beside Mama Bose’s, the crowds would flock to her.

Ignoring advice from her mother and siblings, Nancy moved back home and started her own snack business ten metres from Mama Bose’s, and for the first few weeks, she was successful. The crowds thinned in front of Mama Bose’s shed and began to queue in front of Nancy’s.

Now, two years later, Nancy goes by the name Iya Sabango. She wears an afro, a parody of it. Her hair is brown, dust cementing the strands. The gutters feed her and she speaks to people only she can see. Mama Bose still sells snacks. The queues in front of her shed have gotten even longer.


This story is for Africans or people who understand, well, how juju or voodoo works here.

Summary is this: Mama Bose used juju to drive Nancy mad and out of business.

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