Nigeria, April 14 -- Stand at the Oshodi bus stop in Lagos for ten minutes and you will count, without trying, at least eighty-five people who are technically working. Among others, you see the woman selling cold shelled groundnuts from a tray balanced on her head, the man hawking phone chargers so new they are still in Chinese-language packaging, the teenage boy weaving through traffic with a tower of chin-chin that defies both gravity and NAFDAC regulations, and a graduate in a faded foreign university hoodie, conducting an informal survey of which danfo will leave first. Everyone is doing something. The street hums with the controlled chaos of a nation that has never had the luxury of sitting still. And yet, for several years running, ...