Skip to main content

The City That You Were

i was Jos
and
he was Lagos.

i was the quiet streets of Rock Haven:
the houses separated by the heavy silence
of unanswered 'hellos' from neighbours.
the absolute conservation of shades the trees
cast here- was totally me.

he. he was the busy streets of Obalende:
the unrepentant conductors yelling,
'Yaba! CMS! Yaba! Yaba!
the circular circulation of human sweat waving
through the air like Oxygen.
neglecting the weaknesses of island Ajebutters and JJC pedestrians.

at night i was the city of J-Town after 8pm.
quiet. eerily so.
soldiers securing fences of the selected few.
smoking stuff and drinking liquor,
with AK-forty-somethings to bring down any rebel who dared to equal.

he was the busy streets of Lasgidi at night:
the traffic, in French translated to, "la circulation"
right up from Admitalty Way through the Toll gates.
Cars honking, drivers cursing, almost excitedly at each other.
LASTMA officials obeying the call to rip-off 'rich' drivers.

on weekends i'd still be quiet.
a little noisier than on weekdays but still
generally quiet.
like the street of Zaria Road,
i'd be mostly quiet
unlike the business at Terminus Market and Katako.
careful lest a bomb might explode
taking with it lives by the dozen.

he was the jam of Ekó on weekends.
the religion of strip clubs :
Quilox with its bevy of befits
artistically exhibiting the lustful need for sexiness.
he'd be busy like Palms, like Ozone, like Spar.
spending more than he wished for.
buying stuff for a girl called Ahnika.

and when he'd ask me to be his-
i'd hesitate,
not because i did not like the feel of Lagos. no.

it wasn't because he wasn't a good lover.
the hustle- his hustle,
the pure luxury of the Island,
the 'ancientness' of the Mainland mixed
with the air of urgent modernity,
of yellow Danfós by the dozen.

when he asked me to be his
i thought,
"but how would you fit me in your heart? "
"you're bulging to almost breaking point with
the erection of over-population,
how do you intend to fit me in?

"how would the waves at Elegushi Beach
make love to my mind?
enveloped with so much pollution even on
her waters? "

"or the weather?
how do i survive the heat that suffocates me.
exchanging the foggy harmattan and cold of my city? "

"how can that help? " i asked.

and with the immoral grin and general cockiness
i've come to associate with Lagos,
he said,

"your life's a fucking bore. "

"you need me to hook you up with my dealer.

allow me to introduce you to my circle
of friends:

the are, will be and wanna be's.

and if by chance or grace or luck
you ever grow to love me,
do not forget to imprint your name
in my sands of Alpha Beach. "

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I'm a Buffer Girl pour l'Amour

I’ve always known true love exists; always and convincingly known. 

20 REASONS TO JOIN AIESEC

If you have been curious about improving your leadership skills or joining the best student extra curriculum organisation eveer! then you're in luck because AIESEC is interested in YOU. Quickly go through these reasons to join AIESEC today.1. Go on a work abroad experience, develop your leadership skills.2.Network and meet new people in your university, around Nigeria and in 110 countries we are present in.3. Be a part of a network of ambitious and talented AIESEC leaders around the world and utilize this network for the rest of your life.4. Get the opportunity to travel to different places through the various conferences within and outside Nigeria.5. Find a suitable Mentor who can guide you through your career decisions and many life experiences.6. Cultivate a global mindset and develop entrepreneurial outlook in a flexible and customizable work environment.7. Increase awareness on things outside your text book through practical international experience and on the job learning.8.…

need balance

there's some beauty in darkness:
something interesting about
the way the air would heavily light
an irony of perfect juxtaposition. there's some beauty in ugly:
something intriguing about the
huge grotesque scars that
seem to never want to go away. there's some beauty in evil:
un peu de la purité in
the heart of a condemned man,
an innocence buried beneath a blanket of
bottled up emotions. these little beauties we
choose to neglect
aren't they the very things that
make living bearable? who would be good without the existence
of evil?
who would be beautiful without ugliness?
or what story could ever be told without scars? need beauty and ugliness,
need scars and healing oils,
need good and evil,
need all the balance to remain
steady and sane in this
crazy crazy world. need balance:
then imbalance to
balance the human equation
now and again.