Her clothes smudged with dirt, and a hair awry as the chewed mango on her juicy palms. Lying face down on her milk thighs is her baby, Tema, who just left brother Femi’s hands for a napkin change. The moment little Tema escapes Femi’s arms into hers she broke into a shrill cry. The baby seems to prefer Femi’s hands more than her mother’s, perhaps, Femi’s hands seem to fry baby tears dry. Often times,…