One and the Same

Attending events in Lagos is like a full time job, between birthdays, funerals, thanksgivings and helping people remember their deceased from 15 generations before, any self respecting Lagosian knows, a party isn’t a party until you and a thousand of your closest friends are wearing the same material aka “aso ebi”

(I actually don’t know where to buy ankara material from as I just wait until there’s an event I have no intention of attending)

If anyone knows my dad he’s one of the most generous people on the planet, like he can give away the shoes that you’re wearing and follow up with the question “you didn’t still want those did you?” He feels like he has a civic responsibility to the entire human race and trust me, dude takes it seriously. So, his “dashing” of leftover  aso ebi material to anyone he deems wanting, is as expected as a yellow girl with too much brazillian hair and pink blush at a Dbanj concert.  

On a fateful Friday, I had a meeting and woke up with just enough time to get dressed and out of the house. Laid out my newest ankara dress, took a shower, did my regular “getting dressed” dance in the mirror and headed out of the house, coffee mug in one hand and granola bar in the the other. I walked to and sat in the car, consumed by my phone when the driver gets in and we head out. My driver at the time was one of those ones that you brush off with a “the devil you know” shrug and do a novena everytime you get in the car; a typical Lagos Islander who voluntarily asked people to call him “Squadron” (yes, after the liquor).

 I get to my appointment and get out of the car and as I’m walking into the building, my driver gets out of the car  to help me carry bags in and reveals that he is wearing the EXACT same material as I am.  The look of absolutely mischevious glee on his face and the look of genuine horror on mine were of the same magnitude. The situation was out of my hands, I either sweat and struggle my way up the stairs with too many bags or he has to come with me.

I have no shame in saying this, I strapped those bags to my body and carried them up 4 flights of stairs. A little hard work and sweat I can deal with but allowing my chemically imbalanced driver revel in telling the receptionist the story about how we are both part of a Yinka Ayefele back-up band on the weekends is another thing entirely.