The odd feel of home

The chaos is perfect, the kind you find in a Lagos market on any given day. Kara saturday market in all of its glory is a disorganised maze,row after row of identical ramshackle stalls;tethering so much that a strong push would make them join the fray.
I finally find a place that offers some level of pandemonium- the kind only bred Lagosians are used to.
The pace of life in Kaiama,Kwara state is much slower, everything is drawn out;from the way the people take time to greet each other to every single syllable spoken. They are not in a hurry.

The sound of horns blaring jolts me out of my reverie,I turn to see an okada(motorbike) speeding towards me.
I jump out of the way and reply the okada rider's insult at me with one of mine.
I walk into the maze that is kara market: it is not divided into sections selling specifics, each row is an interesting mix of six stalls selling items ranging from meat to clothes,from fresh vegetables to iru(dried locust beans).
My sense of smell is assaulted by the smell of the unwashed bodies of the young men who walk past me with heavy sacks of grain on their heads,mingling with the equally strong smell of iru.. This really does feel like my home city.
The cart pushing traditional pharmacist,stops his cart close to me.
"Kom and buy"..he yells into his megaphone..
"I get am por dogoyaro" he says in heavily accented pidgin English.
"Kofa, you no go buy? He asks as he notices me smiling in his direction.
The hausa natives of these parts replace their C's with K's and their F's with P's when they speak- I find it charming.
Nagode!Mallam,I no go buy..I say to him.
He smiles,showing me teeth stained reddish brown,probably gotten from chewing too much tobacco and kolanut.
He is happy I speak his language.
This is the first time I am visiting kara market and it feels like home.