Chapter 2 The Fabric of Deception

By sixteen, Aisha Toriola had become a fixture in the markets of Lagos Island, known for her sharp tongue, striking beauty, and uncanny ability to close a sale. But it wasn't the fabric alone that earned her respect, it was the whispers of how she could smuggle cartons of cigarettes from Cotonou without once being stopped by customs. Her mother had opened that door years earlier, ferrying "extra cargo" under crates of textile goods, and now Aisha was perfecting the art. What began as survival was becoming strategy.

And in every market stall, Aisha learned that profit always hid behind a curtain of risk.

They called her "Small Alhaj", mocking and admiring her at once. She was young but moved with the quiet power of a seasoned trader. When other girls were learning to plait their hair or flirt with boys after mosque, Aisha was learning the names of border officers who could be bought, and which boatmen were greedy enough to keep quiet. The road between Cotonou and Lagos was long and dangerous, but Aisha didn't fear it. She feared being poor more.

One night, as they offloaded cartons from a rickety Peugeot van behind her mother's shop, her mother handed her a wad of damp naira notes and said, "If you can master people's greed, their fear won't matter". It was a lesson Aisha would carry into every room for the rest of her life. That night, a new thought took root in her mind. Not just of earning money, but of controlling it. Not just surviving Lagos, but owning a piece of it.

Cigarettes were just the beginning. Aisha had tasted power in the glint of hidden profit. And when the next opportunity came knocking, she would open the door wide - no matter what walked through.