For all that being the daughter of an African immigrant means to me, I have disturbingly few cultural touchstones from my mother’s homeland. She’s Nigerian, so I am well-aware of Nollywood, even if I haven’t watched a film. I’ve smelled, and turned down, bowls of egusi soup. I regularly bash Marvel (including in Slate) for its inability to have its characters properly pronounce “Lagos,” the name of Nigeria’s biggest city and arguably the most populous in Africa. (Say it with me again: LAY-gus. It’s really not hard!)