Day 1:
I am in a strange country. With red hair.
Lagosians should not come to Abuja. The general softness is jarring — like you are expecting the other shoe to drop. Where are the sweaty conductors? The traffic rush? Why are the roads so freaking wide? What is this background hum of generational wealth, nepotism, and nonchalance?
I had the best shawarma I have ever tasted today. It felt firm, like a maiden’s ample bosom, half as sweet and most importantly, didnt make like my life and fall apart before I reached the end. Yaba’s shawarmae can suck it. You will never know what true oral pleasure is.
Day 2:
I met Basit today. On a hunch, I thought he might be in Abuja though the last time I saw an Instagram post, he was in Dubai. I dialed his number or one of his numbers — the man always had 3 at a time — and it rang once. Turns out, he was on the way to the airport to drop off a relative. I gave him my location and he pulled up in a tinted Benz. Basit, the last member of my uni squad with Teazy and Lao. Basit “4 F’s”, a smear on his life in our very first semester. Basit who disappeared before our final exams and I hadn’t heard from in 5 years. He came out, beaming from ear to ear, bear-bear joined, kaftan wearing, gold chain rocking. The first thing he said was “Seni, we don dey old o….😂”
We played Fifa. While we were in Unilag, I had once taken him to Jaja complex and we played 5 straight matches. I beat him throughout. He reminded me of that match and swore it would never happen again. His game had changed, his moves were faster with one-touch passes that had become more intricate. But it was still Basit. He always failed to protect his defenders and my current form was no match for him. 2 hours later, he gave up. There are only so many goals a man can eat.
We went out for a drink as he offered to show me the town. We cruised, traffic-free from Wuse 2 to Wuse 1 and stopped at a quiet bar by the side of the road. He told me he had quit drugs and I cheered him on for it. Our school adventures had always been drug-induced, whether we were returning drunk after a night of drinking at Club Uno and running from our Lagos cab because we didn't have a dime left to pay, or we were looking out for the next science beach party to drink punch till we quite literally dropped. I liked that he had decided to embrace moderation, went back to school, completed a degree, and gone on to work in Dubai for a year. I liked that he had his life in check.
After two beers and a special throwback request from me (it’s amazing what you can buy from random stalls in front of random embassies), he dropped me back at my hotel, doing 130 along the way. The lack of traffic and road width is still doing my head in.
I opened my laptop and wrote this. What more adventures does Abuja have for me?
PS: I want to make this a series and keep documenting my experiences but I fear consistency is not my strong suit. Come to think of it, I no even get one suit. This Life no Balance.
