Lagos Jumps

A couple of weeks ago, I flew (instead of walking, I suppose) into Lagos. I had given Laspapi, my initial host and pick-up, 14 hours notice to arrive on Saturday morning (I can tell you: he’s sick to the eye-teeth of me), which is not bad considering I gave myself about 16 hours notice.

‘Papi had called back to say “environmental! You have to be out of the airport by 6.30am so we can get home by 7”. I said: no problem, plane gets in

at 5.30, should be enough time. Not only did the plane not get in until 6am (I wanted to scream at the pilot to put his foot down, esisin nje tyre, and all that), my bag only came out at 6.45 and by the time we got to the car, it was 7.05. Too late! We stood in the car park having a coke and catching up, joined by one of Papi’s friends who was also waiting.

Eventually, we left at 10, got home, I had a shower and needed an immediate nap. During my last visit in April, ‘Papi had promised he would install A/C’s in his place as I complained of the heat. I dismissed him as Lagos mouth who always makes unfulfilled promises. To my surprise, he had fulfilled that promise, bless him, and split units were competing for space everywhere you looked, everywhere, wait for this!, except in the spare room where he usually shoves me. Did I say bless him?

I fell asleep and woke up with someone holding my nostrils blocked. I jerked up in a panic, Laspapi is trying to kill me in my sleep, exacting revenge for all those torturous years he thought I gave him while we were growing up. No, not him. It’s my ex choking me! How did she get into Papi’s house? She was screaming: “die, mother f*cker, die”, like a banshee. Oh my God! She finally got me! I came fully awake, not ready to give up without a fight. Oh…… It was the giant fan ‘Papi put in the room to help me sleep blowing dust into my nose. I forgot about Lagos dust and my nose was now blocked. No point in going back to sleep, especially as the picture of my ex had been so vivid.

In the evening, I made a few calls to London and Lagos, went to my favourite watering hole near ‘Papi’s house for Star and goat meat, and went to bed.

On Sunday, washed my car. Yep! I have an old banging BMW I keep at ‘Papi’s, attended my watering hole again, met up with old friend and Lagos big boy Gbemiga (not of the 419 ilk, this one works o… he heads some department in the biggest old generation bank), and decided to take in ‘Papi’s show called ‘Wedlock of the Gods’ at Terra Kulture. Jolly good show.

Monday, drove around, got dusty and dirty in my white shirt. Dapper fashion Rule no. 1 – never wear white in Lagos. I spoke on the phone to one of my favourite strong-minded people – Isi, while navigating Ikeja and hoping one of the myriad of uniformed officers called FRCN or Plasma or Mulatto will not arrest me - made a mental promise to invite myself for a drink with her and later got to see her picture in some mag – was it Genenieve? Not sure. Somehow, I did not get to invite myself.

Tuesday, drove towards Ibadan to buy odó for my pounded yam, yes o, it now graces my kitchen and it is full size, although I have not used it yet. I like my pounded yam, comes in second after bread.

Wednesday to Saturday, hibernated in a hotel room for peace (alone, for you people with wild imaginations) and in between took in Coliseum night club, Page, Extreme something or the other and, courtesy of Gbemiga, the Lagos Country Club, before returning to the land of no area boys.