My family was one of the many who went along with a group of naval officers posted to Lagos in the early 60s, as part of a contingent sent to help out the newly independent Nigerian nation. In those days it was safe enough for ex- pat families and even though it was over 50 years ago, I still have vague memories of happy times in that place .
We had just moved into our house, a colonial barrack style bungalow which was typical of military housing all through the Commonwealth. Our neighbours were an elderly British couple who had spent some years in India.
I can’t remember why, but my parents had to go somewhere and couldn’t leave us all alone at home so they requested the neighbours to keep an eye on us.
“Be good , ” said my mother as she dropped us off at their home. And we were as good as gold as they plonked us in front of the TV. We really didn’t know what to say to the couple as we just about knew four words of English having been in Nigeria for little over a week ( maybe ) . Halfway through, my brother began wiggling and I glared at him. He stopped for a while and again began looking around . I didn’t know what he wanted but Uncle Tom realised that he wanted something and asked if he needed anything , biscuits? Toilet?
My brother kept shaking his head . But finally he blurted going towards the fridge”Can I have some English paani? ”
Water
This post is inspired by today’s prompt on #The Daily Post – Water
Twenty- five Seven 
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