Evi Edna Ogholi - No Place Like Home [2025]

“Ma, you sure about this place? No network there. No light since 1998.” “I know,” she said. “Drive.”

Lagos, 2026. Then Port Harcourt, 1994.

On the eighth day, her phone—charged by a solar panel—finally pinged. Seventeen emails. Three missed calls from London. Her boss’s message read: “We’re offering you the promotion. Head of West African Operations. You’d move to Geneva.” Evi Edna Ogholi - No Place Like Home

“I never forgot,” she said. “I just buried it under marble floors.” “Ma, you sure about this place

The London call went fine. But after hanging up, she looked around her “home.” White leather couch. Italian marble floors. A fridge that dispenses ice cubes shaped like diamonds. It was beautiful. It was also a gilded cage. “Drive

She looked out at the children playing in the red mud. They were laughing. Their feet were dirty. Their bellies were full.