The humid Enugu air clung to us like a second skin as Nneka and I weaved through the stalls of the Kenyatta Market on a beautiful Saturday morning. Laughter spilled from overflowing bowls of palm fruit, bargaining calls intertwined with the rhythmic thrumming of highlife music from a nearby stall. Nneka, ever the explorer, pointed towards a commotion near the back of the market.