MY LAGOS

I work and live in Lagos. To anyone who lives in or has ever been to Lagos (and by ever being I mean actually spent at least 2 weeks and traversed to some extent its length and breadth), that simple, straight forward statement connotes quite a lot.

It implies that I spring from sleep/bed every morning. It is almost somewhat an unwritten, unspoken, untaught taboo (that somehow finds its way into the subconscious of Lagosians) for one to take the time to get out of bed…it is a commandment - “woe betide ye in Lagos who gradually returneth from dreamland”; it also implies that I do pretty much everything hurriedly- at least above the pace at which any other average (and dare I say, normal) human would.

It also connotes the fact that I come across and experience new wonders everyday- and don’t even get me started on that one! Seven wonders of the world huh? Yeah right! You haven’t lived in Lagos!

The fact that I live in Lagos has made my ears rather immune to the noise emanating from loudspeakers somewhat strategically placed to deliberately force you to reckon with their sounds knowing that the entire body system of the Lagosian has been programmed to successfully block out its screams.

The men and women in the speakers spit various sounds and words covering pretty much every topic.

I hear various genres of music from musicians both ancient and modern (some to which, I must confess, I sway to in the privacy of my mind);

Then there are then the “messages” and “prophecies” of various men and women of God who never cease to remind me of the fact that givers never lack (citing their lives as the case in point), the fact that I should keep on hoping and believing everything will be okay (again citing their own lives as examples), that I should continue to have faith (and therefore not question anything thrown at me whether physical or spiritual), the reminder that heaven is available and is the ultimate reward of those who believe; and of course, the inescapable reminder of the wrath of hell fire which inadvertently practically chases all who hear to do the bidding of their “pastors”(after all, a word or in this case a thousand, is enough for the wise)!

Then of course there is the ever present bellow of the sweat-covered, tooth-missing, scar-faced, pants-sagging, pidgin-englished conductors (which makes me wonder what would become of us in the event that we didn’t have them to thank for the “organization” they bring to the Lagos traffic system) who scream the various destinations of their black-n-yellow “containers” for buses and who practically pull you into the “bus” going the route you probably have never had reason to contemplate or tread for any reason…yet (its Lagos- at some point we always have to get to “that other end”).

There is also no failing to come across the occasional “Do you know who I am?”, the “Do you know who you are talking to?” which usually goes with is twin brother, the “I will show you today” (which again makes me ponder- do these people walk around with an entourage of “fans” going by the rapid speed at which “spectators” and “supporters” gather upon catching the slightest sound of the opening statement- the “Why you match me like that? You no fit to say sorry”).

The fact that in the midst of all this, I woke, nay- sprang, from bed as early as 4.30am, to get to work on time, attend meetings or whatever else requires me to justify my pay at the end of the month, close not-too-late, (depends on what you consider ‘late’), sit in traffic, get home at about 9.30pm, find something to eat (my earlier resolution to “have dinner before 7pm tossed out the window since I am on the road at that time), get things organized and ready for work tomorrow and battle my way to sleep through the valley of the shadow of “night vigils” (which again makes me wonder -you must reckon by now that I wonder quite a lot- why I have to hold a vigil with a church via its loud speakers. If I wanted to be at the vigil I would BE there!) and then wake again before even the cock crows (imagine if I waited for the cock to crow like my ancestors did before rousing from sleep- I do not reckon I would be through answering all the punctuality queries by now)!

The crazy thing however is that in the midst of all this seeming lunacy, there are the intermittent flashes of sanity and the good times; the times of the laughter, fun and freedom Lagos offers; the times when we Lagosians when not hating one another are looking out for one another; and these sane, neighbourly moments make me see sense in the saying that “one must accept the rose along with its thorns”.

I have friends who have visited Lagos and have sworn never to return but the truth be told, this is the Lagos I was born in, that I grew up in and have fun childhood memories of.

It is the home that I know and that has given me all I have and know, both good and bad.

It is the Lagos that I love.

This is Lagos…MY Lagos.