Lagos

The somewhat impromptu trip to Lagos was designed around three main objectives; making an appearance at a (self-proclaimed) protege’s wedding, dinner with the Lagos based elements of my old work crew and appeasing my father, who as early as New Year’s Day had begun to sound his dissatisfaction at my conspiring to avoid making what used to be an annual trip to Nigeria last year. For the wedding, the plan was to arrive at 10.00 am, 9.00 am invitation notwithstanding. That decision was one I rationalised away by assuming that as with all things Nigerian, a certain element of tardiness was expected. By the time I arrived at 10.30 am - sweating profusely following my ill thought out attempt to walk till I found a yellow cab - I was as undressed as I could be, my tie slackened to let what precious little fresh air there was get to my skin and my suit dispensed with. That meant I had to find somewhere to cool off for a few extra minutes and get my outfit put together again before popping into the venue. In the end I had to settle for the wing mirror on a parked car, studiously avoiding the gaze of the soldiers sat on the bench only a few feet away. Once in the building proper, I managed to find a seat next to a rotating fan to ease my pain. ...

That my relationship with Nigeria is somewhere between strained and non-existent is something I have made no bones about time and time again. That sense of lostness rather than easing with time has only become stronger, the key events in my life over the last few years - Newcastle, the bookend to a horrendous year of work and the somewhat forced decision to not return to the bedlam and then H - all chipping away at what bonds are left, leaving them increasingly tenuous. ...

--- I wake up to singing - slightly muffled but loud enough to filter through to that neither here nor there place between sleep and waking up, where ambient sounds meld into dreams, or whatever it is conscious people do with their brains. When I make my way downstairs, it turns out it is the hotel staff having morning prayers. I am low on cash, I half start to prepare to go out before I am minded to ask my friend V, who confirms an ATM is my best bet. I end up walking a few kilometres to the nearest bank, a Zenith Bank, and empty my cash passport in the process; 20,000 naira should cover an extra day’s hotel costs and the transport fare by road from Lagos to Benin which is next on the agenda. ...

Met FF for a coffee whilst in Lagos. Prior to that I’d felt like she’d checked all my boxes bar the genotype one. Meeting up for a coffee was the physical chemistry ’test’ for me and I felt we passed it in glowing colours. She looked smashing in a pink, floral dress and red shoes and we did have great conversation. Fortuitously, my married friends I&A dropped me off and picked me up and did pick up on her great personality. Problem is I do not know if she likes me like that. I suppose I could ask, but given the small matter of a few miles, and my history of crucially misjudging interest in the past, there’s a cross roads of sorts. Rotating out of Lagos for a few months on the potential new job will help in this regard, I think.