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“…..50 naira brush here, 50 naira brush…….buy your shoe 500 naira, no more 1000 naira…….buy milk, buy milk…”

So this was the Lagos Island market Angelique had said I must shop at at least once before returning to the States. Her first trip outside the United States had brought her down to Lagos, Nigeria and she had returned absolutely thrilled about it. She had gushed about everything and everybody to the point that you would imagine Lagos was heaven’s neighbor in paradiseland. But from my own experiences since I got here, I think she was just suffering from traveling-to-another-continent-for-the-first-time-itis. If she had ended up going to the North pole, she would have come back gushing too – albeit with frostbite.

And i’m sure that lady said she was selling “mik” not “milk”.

It should sound weird that I, a Nigerian born and – for a period – brought up in Nigeria (for all of two years) would be convinced to return (for a visit, ain’t no way i’m living with blackouts and mosquitoes that seem to have learnt Tai-chi) to the country of my birth by an American. The white kind, not the Nigerian-that-has-lived-there-for-five-years-and-has-developed-an-accent-he/she-thinks-is-American kind. My mother used to threaten us with “shipping us down to Nigeria” when we were little, then changed it to “please, it’s about time you visited home” now we are all grown up.

To be fair to me, I have always been curious about what Nigeria was like. After all, I was born there before my family moved down to New York. My first mind images of Nigeria weren’t pleasant however, seeing as they came from my mother who threatened to “send all of you back to Nigeria where they would thrash the living daylights out of you till you can’t sit down for a week. Report to the police? Hahahahaha (I swear, her laughter then was annoying). They will thrash you some more!”. You would imagine she was only using her words. That would have been a blessing. She usually delivered these threats while actually pursuing us through the house and, failing to catch us, throwing both slippers and any other movable object at us. So, yes, I didn’t have a very romantic idea of Nigeria and had no plans to go there any time soon.

At least that was till Angelique – afraid of change and travel Angelique – spent two weeks in Lagos and returned with the kind of smile you only wear after amazing sex. She gushed about Lagos, the noise, the bustle, the color and everything else she could think of. And pointedly told me I was running away from an amazing place I should be proud of having come from.

She also returned with this stunning print gown. I think that’s what convinced me to come down here in the first place.

So yes, i’m here in Lagos, Balogun market to be precise and i’m wondering where all that culture and romance Angelique was talking about was. No sooner had I stepped of the cab than a massive bra was shoved in me face, the holder sing-chanting “buy your pant and bra! Sister, your bra and pant here”.

For one, i’m sure the last thing I want to do is shop for my delicates from among a pile on the roadside (although Angelique said she had bought a pair, she said nothing about actually wearing them). For two, the bra that my eyes were nearly being covered with were so large, they only look like they should be used for carrying watermelons. Anybody who needed a bra this size needed medical help, not structural support.

And that wasn’t pant she was saying. Sounded more like pint. Was she offering me a bra and beer?

I was just about telling the enterprising lady that I wanted to buy a print gown and not watermelon carriers when I felt a sharp, searing pain coming from all five toes on my left foot. Whoever stepped on them must have weighed at least a ton and didn’t even act like he/she knew he/she had stepped on an actual human being’s toes because I got no apologies. Instead, I heard “Kuro!” from behind me before being unceremoniously shoved aside by a woman that was so big, if her body were converted to food, she would feed a small country and I if I had not balanced myself quickly, I might have found myself swimming in a lake of bras and pints.

“Aunty, you no buy?” Bra and pint lady asked, looking hopeful and dangling an assorted pair of colorful bras and panties that could only have been made to challenge a Guinness world record for largest underwear. I could only shake my head. This was going to be a long day.

http://just-saying-o.gidicentral.com/2015/04/22/big-bang-lagos-1/



Okay, opinions? And please be fair!