The night my shop burned, I sat on the floor and laughed

Two years ago, during harmattan. I close my shop around 8pm, go home, eat, sleep. By 2am my phone dey ring. My neighbor from the market, she dey scream say, "Iya Blessing! Fire! Your shop!"

I run comot. No wear slippers. When I reach, the whole line of shops don turn to ash. My goods, my savings, everything. I just sit down for the floor. People dey cry around me. Me? I start to laugh. Not because e sweet me. Because wetin I go do? Cry go bring back my sugar and rice?

My husband come, he hold my hand. He no talk. He just sit with me. By morning, the market women gather. Some bring ₦500, some ₦1,000. One woman wey I never greet before give me ₦3,000. She say, "I know how e pain."

Within one week, I get ₦47,000. No bank, no loan. Just people. That day I learn say your real capital no dey for your shop. Na the people wey go stand with you when everything scatter.