Look at how the midday sun is shining on my imported Italian marble.
And look at the village stain you just brought from the bush.
Tell me, old woman, did somebody announce on the radio that Banana Island is now a charity shelter for destitute grandmothers?
Look inside my rafia basket.
My small phone died on the expressway from Onor.
Just allow me to sit in the shade by the security post and speak to the owner of this house for one minute.
Speak to whom?
Hold your tongue, you wretched thing.
My son-in-law, Kitan Oladipo, is a multi-billionaire shipping mogul.
He does not breathe the same oxygen as roadside beggars who tie faded as from 1984.
Look at your dusty leather slippers touching the steps where senators and oil baronss are about to walk.
You heard my mother.
In 10 minutes, the wealthiest families in Lagos are arriving for my engagement brunch.
[sighs] If any of my billionaire friends see a dirty, wrinkled village woman squatting near my fountain, J Musa, where are these useless security guards?
[panting] Where are these useless security guards?
Drag this eyesaw and her smelly yam basket outside the gate right now.
Throw her onto the hot t before my in-laws convoy arrives.
Peace be onto you mama.
Good morning.
Oh, the Lagos sun has woken up very early today and this street is a long trek from the main gate.
Please come under the shade of this canopy.
[music] Which compound are you looking for along First Avenue?
May your days be long and bright, [music] my brother.
Thank you.
[laughter] My knees are no longer 25 years old.
Please [music] tell me, the carpenter who described this street for me, said the seventh mansion with the golden palm trees [music] on the gate.
Belongs to Kitan Oladipo.
Is this truly the house my son built?
Wait a minute.
Ono dialect.
Good lord in heaven.
You are mama kitan.
Uhhuh.
You know my name, my brother.
Mama, how can I work at this gate for 4 years and not know the woman whose big portrait [music] hangs inside Agakitan’s private study upstairs?
My name is Danladi Mama.
Every single month when Agakitan [music] pays our salaries, he tells us, “Pray for my mother in Onondo.
She sold her late husband’s cocoa plantation [music] so I could go to university and build this shipping company.”
That is my kitan.
He never forgets where he came from.
Look at this mansion, Danladdi.
Look at how the white marble walls are shining like the gates of heaven under the morning sun.
God has truly wiped away my widow’s tears.
But mama, forgive my asking.
[music] Why?
Why did you trek from the estate junction carrying a heavy basket on your head?
Agakitan went to the marina this morning to sign a [music] shipping vessel contract.
And he told the whole staff that [music] his private white helicopter was supposed to fly to Akur tomorrow to bring you for the weekend.
Why didn’t you call him that you were coming by road today?
Look at this my faithful [music] friend Danladdi.
I have used this small phone for 9 years.
When our morning bus reached beggar bus stop, the battery cried its last cry [music] and went off.
And when I tried to call Kitan’s private line from a roadside [music] booth yesterday evening, the line kept cutting off as if someone had barred [music] my number.
Bar your number on Agakitan’s phone.
That is strange.
That is strange.
Let me use the gate house intercom right now.
I will call the main house so [music] the maids can run out.
They will bring chilled coconut water and carry your basket.
[music] Do not touch that intercom.
Wait and listen to old woman’s wisdom.
I am listening.
Mama, 3 days ago, Kitan told me on the phone that he is holding an engagement brunch at 12:00 noon today.
[music] to put a diamond ring on the finger of a Lagos socialite named [music] Sora.
He sounded very much in love and ladi too much in love.
And when [music] a wealthy young man is blinded by city beauty, it is his mother’s duty to keep her eyes wide open.
[music] H mama, as a gatekeeper, my mouth [music] is supposed to be locked with a padlock.
But since you are the mother of the man who feeds my [music] who feeds my children, I will tell you the truth.
This um Madame Sora and her mother, Madame Delin, have been staying in the guest wing for 2 weeks and the way they treat human beings who do not drive big cars.
Mama, my heart has been heavy for [music] Agakitan.
You see why God allowed my [music] small phone to die at beggar?
My late husband, Chief Oladipo, taught me a sacred proverb before he closed his eyes.
Never judge a bride by how sweetly she smiles at the king in his royal [music] robes.
Judge her by [music] how she treats a dusty traveler who knocks at the palace gate [music] asking for water.
Look closely under these yams Danladdi.
Do you know what is resting at the bottom of this 1200 naira rafia basket?
[music] Mama, that looks [music] like a government certificate of occupancy and royal palace beats.
22 years ago, before Lagos became this crowded, my late husband and I bought 30 acres of waterfront [music] land near the Victoria Island port.
And beside it are the 200-year-old royal coral beads of the Oladipo [music] dynasty.
Jesus of Nazareth, 15 billion naira.
Mama, [music] you carried 15 billion naira inside a yam basket on a public bus from Uno.
What better safe is there in Lagos than an old woman’s yam basket than [music] lad?
Even an armed robber will pass me on the road and offer me 15 naira.
Now listen to [music] me carefully.
I am going to walk into that shining courtyard just as I am in my faded [music] indigo as dusty slippers.
I will not mention that I [music] am Kitan’s mother.
[music] If this Sora woman has a heart of gold and offers an old stranger a seat in the shade and a [music] cup of cold water, I will open this basket right before the guests, place these royal coral beads around her [music] neck, and hand her a 15 billion naira wedding diary.
And and what if she treats you the way she treats the rest of the staff?
Mama, [music] then the midday sun will expose what is hidden before my son makes [music] the greatest mistake of his life.
Danladdi, take 5,000 naira from your pocket, walk down to the end of the avenue to buy recharge card for 30 minutes and leave the pedestrian gate unlocked.
Do not warn a single soul inside that house that I [music] am coming.
Look at what the Lord has done for the son of a widow.
Kitan, my son, your father is [music] smiling from heaven today.
Peace [music] be upon this glorious home.
Good afternoon, miters.
May the sunshine of joy never depart from this house.
Wait, mommy, hold my glass.
Are my eyes playing tricks on me under this hot sun?
Or did a destitute market hawker just stroll into my private banana island courtyard?
Stop right there.
You old woman, do not take one more step forward.
Do not let those filthy dustcovered leather slippers touch the white marble steps.
Ah, forgive my dusty feet my sister.
[music] The journey from Onondo started before dawn and the sun between the main junction and this avenue is very fierce today.
[laughter] From did you hear that mommy?
She came all the way from the bush in to beg in Banana Island.
[laughter] Beggar.
And what is that hideous thing you are carrying on your hip?
A farm basket.
It is a handwoven rafia basket, my daughter.
[laughter] White yams inside Villa 7.
Sora, please call the pest control people before bush insects jump out of that basket onto my Italian lace.
A man may dine on gold plates in the city, madam.
But he should never despise [music] the soil that fed him when he had no shoes.
All I ask is for one smold water and a [music] little corner under the shade to rest my legs until Kitan drives through that.
Wait a second.
That is the second [music] time you have called my fiance by his first name.
Who told you about Kitan?
Don’t mind this cunning Lagos street beggars society blogs post our invitation card online yesterday.
You saw Kitan Oladipo’s address online and you carried four rotten yams to come and ruin my big day.
So you are Sora?
Yes, I am.
And let me [music] teach you the first rule of my home.
Nothing is free in Banana Island.
Not even tap water.
Look down at my right foot.
Do you see that speck of red on dust [music] your filthy slippers just blew onto my $2,000 Christian Lubbouten heel?
Good.
Earn it.
Earn a cup of water.
How, my daughter?
Get down on your knees on this white marble [music] right now.
Untie the edge of that faded indigo wrapper you [music] are wearing and use it to wipe the dust off my gold shoe until it shines like a mirror.
Kneel down.
Beggars cannot be choosers.
My daughter, [music] look at the gray hair on my head under this noon sun.
I am 66 years old.
Look at yourself.
You smell like poverty.
You dress like poverty and you would die in poverty.
Now kneel down and Lord have mercy.
My knee.
Mama.
Oh my god.
Mama, please hold on to my shoulder.
Don’t put weight on that knee.
Madam Sora, what is wrong with you?
Look at her knee bleeding on the stone.
She is an elderly mother under the 12:00 sun.
Zikora, did you just leave your duty post to come and shout at me in front of a street beggar?
[music] Drink this slowly, mama.
Please drink.
She is not a street beggar, Madame [music] Sia.
She is a human being.
I stood on that balcony and heard her ask you politely for ordinary water.
Have you no fear of the Almighty God?
Who gave Mr.
Kitan this wealth?
You ungrateful, starving little nobody.
Do you know whose wedding you are planning?
You dare open your to insult my daughter over a wrinkled woman carrying yams?
I would rather hawk cold in Lagos traffic with my dignity intact than spend one more minute working for a woman with a stone where her heart should be.
Keep your wedding contract, Madame Delphin.
My late mother taught me that money earned by watching the wicked trample on the helpless carries [music] a curse.
You are fired, Zikora.
Fired and blacklisted forever.
Droayer Musa, get over here this instant.
Madame Sa, what happened here?
Don’t ask me stupid questions.
Duray.
Grab this ragged old witch and this jobless event planner by their clothes and throw them out onto the hot road right now.
Kitan’s convoy just left Ecoy Link Bridge.
If I still see their shadows near this gate in 3 minutes, both of you guards are sacked on the spot.
Don’t let any guard touch her.
We have legs.
We are walking out of this compound ourselves.
Come, mama.
Lean on me.
My daughter in the yellow silk dress, listen carefully to the voice of the old woman whose knee you bruised today.
You [music] boasted that nothing is free in this house.
You poured wine on my gray hair and called me generational poverty.
Look up at the sun above Villa 7.
Before the shadow of these palm [music] trees moves one inch, the owner of this house, and you will weep [music] until your voice is gone, begging to kiss the dust on these worn [music] slippers.
[laughter] Did you hear that, Mommy?
[music] A village beggar is standing in Banana Island pronouncing curses on a billionaire’s wife.
Get them out [music] of my sight.
[laughter] Sia, he’s here.
Look at those four white machines shining in the sun.
Wipe that frown off your face right now.
[music] Put on your sweetest angel smile.
Oh, thank God.
Duray, push those two women behind the palm trees so they don’t block his view.
[music] Baby, welcome home, my king.
Congratulations on the marina vessel signing.
[music] Come inside the shade.
Mommy and I have chilled your favorite champagne by the pool, baby.
Kitan, where are you running to?
Don’t go near the gate.
That’s just a crazy village beggar.
Duray, take your hands away from her and nobody move an inch.
Mama, my mother, my crown.
What are you doing at the gate on foot?
Wait, mama.
Why [music] is your hair tie soaked with wine?
Why are you trembling under the hot sun?
And why is there blood on you on your knee on my marble floor?
Blood of Jesus.
Sora, did Kitan just prostrate on the floor and call that yam basket woman his mother?
[music] I asked the question in my house.
Who did this?
How did Mrs.
Is Yajjid Ladipo, the woman who sold every inch of her late husband’s cocoa plantation in Onondo and wore one rapper for 5 years [music] so I could build this shipping empire, end up bruised, soaked in alcohol, and thrown toward the street in my own estate, who touched my mother.
Baby Kitan, please listen to me.
My heart is broken.
We didn’t know, and it wasn’t us.
I swear to God, it was Zikora.
What?
Yes, my dear son-in-law.
May lightning strike me if I am lying.
Sia and I were inside tasting the food when we heard shouting outside.
When we ran out to the balcony, we saw this wicked event [music] planner Zikora shoving your mother down the stairs kicking her basket and pouring champagne on her head because mama stepped on her floral arrangements.
Baby, you know I would never disrespect an elder.
[laughter] Mommy and I ran down the steps to rescue Mama and fire Zakora for assaulting her.
Ask Duro Jay.
That girl Zakora is the devil.
[laughter] Be still my son Kitan.
A lie can run around the palace from the [music] palace for a whole year, but truth only needs one minute in the sunlight to catch it.
My young daughter in the blue shirt who wiped my [music] tears and gave me water when I fell.
Show my son what you have in your hand.
I [music] left the master lapel transmitter switched on inside the floral centerpiece by the stairs.
Every [music] single word spoken by the pool and on these marble steps for the past half hour was recorded live [music] soundboard.
Shut up, you lying snake.
Give me that phone right now.
If your finger comes within 1 meter of this young woman, Sia, have the police [music] lock you in Kirki before sunset.
Zikora, connect that recording to [music] the main courtyard speakers.
Let the whole of Banana Island hear it.
Give me 6 months after the wedding.
Once the 4.5 billion [music] clears in Dubai, I will manufacture a scandal and pack his clothes out of his own house.
Yesterday, while Kitan was in the shower, I took his second phone and put his village mother’s number on the permanent blacklist.
Get down on your knees on this white marble right now.
Untie that faded wrapper and use it to wipe the dust off my gold shoe.
You stole my private phone while I was under my own roof.
Blocked my mother’s number so I wouldn’t know.
She was traveling.
And when the woman who gave me life walked through my gate, thirsty from the sun, you pushed her onto her knees, poured champagne over her gray hair.
[snorts] Hold out your left hand, Siah.
No, Kitan.
Please give me one more chance.
[music] Take my ring off your finger right now [music] before I call the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission to handcuff both of you for conspiracy and fraud.
Sora Deline, wipe your eyes and look closely at this 1,200 naira yam basket [music] you asked the guards to throw into the refuge bin.
Inside this leather folder is the original certificate of occupancy for 30 acres of waterfront [music] portland in Victoria Island.
15 billion naira inside the yam basket we kicked on the floor.
Sora, you have ruined my life.
Your pride has killed me today.
From this hour under heaven, you will never walk through Lagos as an employee again.
You walk into this house as my daughter.
Effective immediately, I am appointing you managing director Ladipo luxury estate and hospitality.
Duray escort Sai and her mother outside the Golden Gates immediately.
[applause] My [music] people, you see how the brightest sun exposes [music] every hidden heart.
Sora despised an old woman’s rafia [music] basket and lost a billionaire husband and a 15 billion naira inheritance [music] in less than 10 minutes.
Now, be honest with me in the comment section below.
If you were in Kitan’s shoes today, would you have only kicked Sia and her mother out of the mansion?
Or would you have handed them straight over to the police for that 4 billion naira contract scam?
And do [music] you think Kitan and Zikora are meant to be husband and wife?
Drop your thoughts in the comments below.
Tell us [music] which city or country you are watching Royal Crown Studios from.
Smash that like button and hit subscribe right now so you never miss our next powerful African story.
[music and applause]
