s born on a stormy Tuesday night. Her mother, Alhaja Morayo, was a fierce woman who ran a roadside textile stall by day and whispered deals with market un
gate its crowded alleys with eyes that missed nothing and
econdary 2, she had dropped out entirely, trading books for bolts of fabric and days in Balogun Market. She watched the older women haggle and hustle, and from her mother, she learned
s-of trucks that crossed borders at night, of goods that never saw customs, of women who were both respected and feared. She didn't know it yet, but Mushin