ALL HAIL LAGOS THE MEGA-CITY!

Have you really looked around you? As in REALLY looked around you, if you live in Lagos? Have you observed those little details that make the city unique in its own crazy way?

Maybe...maybe not.

If you have, then you would probably find it interesting answering this question: WHAT IS YOUR DESCRIPTION OF LAGOS?

I recall someone saying something about a vision 2015 of Lagos becoming a mega-city and I am thinking, “Omigosh! Omigosh! 2015 had better come fast abeg before I die of too much laughter in this city!”

In my head, I picture a scene at a bus-stop, a fight between a bus conductor and an elderly gentleman that happened earlier this year. The bus conductor was dressed in a vest and pants rolled up to his knees, hair standing saluting the four corners of the earth - hair that has only had visions of what a comb could look like. The gentleman, however, could pass for your father on a regular day, looking well dressed in a two piece suit complete with a handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket and spectacles with a portfolio tucked beneath his arm; the perfect picture of a civil servant.

The two men were engaged in a fight.

It’s in Lagos that you will see a grown responsible man lose his head over ten naira change from a bus fare; where a man getting close to the age of retirement will roll up his sleeves to exchange blows with a red-eyed bus conductor on the streets. It’s in Lagos that the two men will actually stand nose to nose, comparing notes on how dangerous each of them could be; all the while taking their voices a notch lower to sound more menacing.

The bus conductor: “Ah, oga, no try me for this Lagos. I swear I go show you say na me be the real area boy. In fact, my papa sef na area boy.”
The man: “Who do you think you are? Eh? Do you know who I am? Look at you, did you go to school at all? Nonsense illiterate!”
The bus conductor: “You know who I be sef? See this old fool still dey talk. I go use bottle break your head oh, forget am comot...no shaking.”

...and so on and so forth.

It’s in Lagos that a man in uniform popularly called ‘Staff’ will try to separate the fight hoping that his voice and maybe his uniform will do the trick of ending the fight with the help of some overzealous onlookers. Sometimes, I wonder if there are secret agents standing by the roadside just waiting for a fight to start to show off their high testosterone levels.

All hail Lagos!

Days like that you would think to yourself that those Abuja people are missing out on all the action. You would wish you had carried a collapsible chair from the house just so that you can balance properly on the sidewalk and watch the live action-comedy without PHCN interruption.
“Those Abuja people sef,” you would think, “they form too much. You see now? See real Nollywood happening right in front of me, free of charge, no popcorn to spend my money on. Chai! Where is that my phone sef so I can send the video to Youtube.”

It’s in Lagos that people dash across the expressway like headless chickens...directly beneath a pedestrian bridge! I myself have been guilty of it. If you ask me why I do it, I would probably say that there is a certain thrill that comes with conquering all those fast cars zooming past me without care; a thrill that comes with dancing salsa back and forth while I zigzag my way across the street.
Or maybe it’s the closest I can get to feeling like the star actress of an action movie. Angelina Jolie, move out babe!

It’s in Lagos that we wear helmets like we are wearing face caps. Some even put ‘style’ into it by turning it to face backwards. Without the fasteners around the chin, some of us hold it above our heads ‘because it’s not hygienic’.
Puh-lease, what’s the point of wearing a helmet if at a collision, the helmet will probably be the first to fly off before you pay your allegiance to the law of gravity?

Duh...

By the way, I am also guilty of that.

It’s in Lagos that......(get ready for part II)

can't COOK IT?? Google IT!

Warning & disclaimer: Not for men prone to heart attacks. Do not read if you frequently display symptoms of hypersensitivity to the truth such as vehement denial, loud brawls and a quick temper. ‘Nuff said.


It is the year 2010; a healthy ten years after the once predicted end of the world. Ten years of explosive technology; of the invasion of MySpace, Twitter and Facebook. Ten years of riding on the carriages of knowledge; of Nigerians being the campaigners of most of the world innovations – from Nokia 3310 to Camera phones to Blackberries to Ipods and Ipads, to lace wigs, contact lens and fake lashes.
Hmmm...Ten years of a radical transformation...

...And I hear a woman was sent away from her husband’s house because she could not cook??!

Hello??? That is one of the most ridiculous things to hear in this present age. If I had heard it about ten years ago, I might have seen the reason for that, might have been quick to blame the girl’s parents (well, that’s what every other person would do), might have been among the first to point accusing fingers.
But not now...not when the world is flailing at the brink of an economic crash, not when Nigeria is about celebrating fifty years of a failed state; fifty years of poker-faced lies, daylight robbery and standby generators that do more work than the transformers. Not when we as a people have come to accept that survival means hustling in our own country, whether you are a Senator’s son or not (no one knows where the next wind of EFCC might blow, the wind that changes billionaires to prisoners).

Seriously, at this stage in the life of my country, I blame the woman who would be accused of not knowing how to cook.

Give that same woman a Blackberry for the first time and watch her decode its usage in seconds. Open a Facebook page for her and be amazed when she gathers a hundred friends in two days. Everyone is getting technologically savvy. Wouldn’t it be smart if women were to also carry the same ‘talent’ into the kitchen?
These days, every household has at least a computer or a GPRS enabled phone. Just take a sec...pause...type into Google the words ‘how to prepare bitter leaf soup’ or ‘how to prepare egusi soup’ and you will be amazed the number of links you’ll likely get. Some sites even offer pictures of the ready-made food with tips on how to eat the food, whether to swallow or to chew. There is no recipe that cannot be found on the internet.

So here’s my advice to you woman that cannot cook: men are looking for excuses to blame us of being lazy and incompetent, excuses to compare us with their mothers of another generation. Therefore, we will not stand for any one of our fellow ‘sisters’ giving them that reason on a platter of gold.
If you cannot cook, don’t allow your mother-in-law catch you in the middle of a step-by-step-details-to-cooking-banga-soup phone call to your mother (so embarrassing to be caught red-handed); don’t depend on your never-failing ‘intuition’ to prepare the most incredible jollof rice when all you’ve ever cooked in your life is a boiled egg that looked like it was trying hard not to fall apart (even I won’t want to risk that kind of food); don’t be caught sneaking in through the back gate with a cooler of beans and plantain bought from the Mr. Biggs down the street (your pretty smile might not save you on this one).
Very wisely and (**clears throat**) discreetly, get an Internet connected laptop hidden safely in your kitchen. Whatever he wants to eat, no matter how strange it sounds, smile and assure him that dinner will be served in a blink. Never show how panicked you are. It might raise a red light. Hide your panic attack until you get into the kitchen. After dancing round the kitchen on one leg and shaking your nervous fingers in the air, carefully look around you to make sure that there is no one in sight. Then pull out your cute pink laptop from the top of the shelf and type the keywords into any search engine.
The magic will happen an hour later when you present a decent meal, steaming hot and in your best chinaware, in front of him. When he compliments you that you are the best cook in the world, remember to smile again. However, this time reply, “Anything for you, darling” (**wink** in the direction of your lap top; it just saved you at least five years of having to find another husband).

Tech-i-no-lo-gy! Who says it can’t save your marriage??

NOTE: Abeg, learn the basics of cooking else you might just end up killing the poor man if you mistake ‘ground pepper’ for ‘curry’.