A TYPICAL DAY IN LAG

For anyone who was born in Nigeria and lives in Lagos (and when I say live in Lagos, I mean you’ve experienced the real intricacies of Lagos. I'm not talking about those who view Lagos through tinted glass… you know yourselves) as I was saying jare, you would know and feel what I’m talking about.

A typical day here starts by 5:30 a.m. with a loud noise coming through your window, properly delivered by our neighbourhood volunteer speakers. Somedays it makes me wonder, I hope God is wearing earplugs, because I don’t want to question Him one day about unanswered prayers and then hear something like: “You have to shout really loud these days. I can barely hear you since I now wear a hearing aid, thanks to the too-loud prayers from your brothers... perhaps.”

Then, you have to deal with the long queue of people before you even get the chance to bathe (for those who live in face-me-I-face-you apartments). And right after that comes the funniest part, transportation. At this point, everybody becomes a potential Ali or Usain Bolt, just to catch the first bus. At the end of the hustle, you get to work looking like Chris whenever he’s brought out of his locker after being locked in by Caruso.

You get to work panting, and then your company’s Margaret Thatcher or Idi Amin steps in, and you start sweating all over, even with the split unit AC on 16, because any small excuse and boom, you're back in the labour market. And that’s the only market where you don’t buy but sell. And selling in this market is hard. Too many sellers, few buyers. You don’t need to be told; you were once there.

Then it’s lunchtime. But rather than eat, you spend the entire time talking about everything and everyone’s business except your own. Next thing you know, lunch is over. In secret, you’re complaining that lunchtime shouldn’t be over. Even if you were eating Mount Kilimanjaro, how long would it take you to finish it? Plssssssss!

After lunch is when the real work starts (for those of you working in PLCs and LTDs). That’s when the lazy-ass bosses start rolling in with yèyè files that should have been brought in since morning. But who are you to complain? Except, of course, you have another job lined up. We can’t say.

Closing time comes, and instead of feeling useful, you feel used up. You’re so fagged out that when you finally get home, that’s if you don’t spend another 3 hours in traffic buying everything from gala, to LaCasera, to mirrors, to monkeys, to ironing tables, even office space. *Breathes in* In fact, this traffic situation is another blog post on its own.

You get home, and guess what? Everywhere is dark not because of a solar eclipse, but from an eclipse of wires, a.k.a.. no light. And the only way out? Return to the noise that started your day. But this time, the noise brings a small pleasure.

That’s if you don’t use one of those annoying generators that sound like grinding machines and make you feel like strangling PHCN. Maka why?

So, you start your day with noise… and end it with noise. This reminds me of one of my favourite Bible verses:
"From dust you were made, and to dust you shall return."

Except, in the case of Lagos:
“From noise you were woken, and to noise you shall return.” Perhaps.

A typical day goes on like this for 5 days a week,  7 days for the weekend, working folks, 4 weeks a month, 365 days a year.

And if you work in firms like mine, where vacation, leave, and holidays are permanently banned for employees. E choke

Just imagine working like this all through your life…

Eko for show!!!