I remember being about 7 or 8 years of age when my family and I were all in my dad's Benz C class 300. There was quite a long queue of vehicles ahead of us. Typical Lagos traffic situation. We decided to buy chocolate flavoured yoghurts in that pyramid shaped pack from a hawker. The other four people in the vehicle had straws strapped to their yoghurt but mine had none. I remember the feeling. I remember feeling left out and unimportant, but I didn't open my mouth to complain. I remember too, when I was in my last year in primary school. Our class teacher decided to show us how to make Yam & Fried eggs. When we were done with the cooking, what followed was, “line up on a single file so that I'll share it. If you're not on the line, you'll not get anything”. I obediently queued. Twenty minutes down the line, literally(but pun intended), it still hadn't got to my turn to get my share of the food on a queue of not more than twenty pupils. Again, I remember fee...