When I was growing up, the Nigerian lore surrounding signatures was that rich men had complicated signatures; I may be wrong, but based on a joke that I heard in the recent past, I think that the current academic research suggests that poor men are now the ones with complicated signatures.
Lagos evokes the color yellow, the sound of horns and radios barring, the energy of hustle and bustle. But have you realized that the color and sound of Lagos change from time to time. It changes so gradually that the transformation may be barely noticeable from one day to the other or even one month to the next. But every once in a while, I remember something that once was and no longer is or I notice something that now is, but previously wasn’t.
These men, who form part of the background of our every day, shuttling us from one place to the other, listening in on our most random and most intimate conversations; who know the way to all your friends’ houses and where the moin moin lady lives, and knows the generator man’s number and deals with the mechanic that we’ve never met, who come to pick us up from the club at 2am, come to change our tires or check our engines in the middle of Lekki Expressway, switch off their phones so they are beyond reach after we’ve set an agreement in place, but will send a text message about where not to fill up thetank.
You see, I was the type of little girl that didn’t run around too much, didn’t play too rough, didn’t fall down and get injured. But the confidence and settled-ness of my 30s are opening me up to trying new things, spurring me to push past imaginary boundaries of comfort zones towards purposely creating a full life that I am proud to live. So, when my friend sent out an open call for new players, my response was not “why”, which is the question that I have received the most when I tell people about this new past time, but “why NOT”? Since joining, I have been in awe of what I have discovered. I know for certain that I made the absolute right decision and I feel very privileged to be part of this league.
I think that if we consider this a problem, then we must acknowledge that it is a very elitist one and that it is only getting worse. Another aunty (all of whose children speak Igbo) was complaining to her daughter that none of her grandchildren speak Igbo and that she is the only one who speaks to them in Igbo. This was a really heartfelt conversation. And while I think some of it is due to generational differences, we must ask ourselves what we will have, who we will become if/when we lose our languages? I think we should probably listen to the undertones in what the older generation is trying to tell us.
There is something about the summer that makes it the perfect time to read. I have a theory that the most anticipated books of the year come out in the summer. This summer, I've already read An American Marriage, and I am looking forward to reading Educated with a friend.
Have you heard about the Global Book Exchange? Have you already participated? Once I saw it on a friend’s IG story on Sunday, I knew I had to be part of it.
Q: What type of soccer fan are you? A: I’m glad you asked. In team based sports, I always root for the underdogs, except in tennis (because Serena) and other individual sports >> where the better player needs to win. I grew up in the heyday of ManU and its EXTRA fans, and at that time I just wanted anyone playing ManU to win, but they’ve been humbled in recent times, so…
Have you noticed that in recent years, after you wave at or ignore the beggar that comes to knock at your window, they will ask for your already opened half-full bottle of water. I had never heard of or noticed this until a couple of months ago, in February, when a visiting friend mentioned it. Since then, it has happened to me three times, or every time that I have had a bottle of water in plain sight.