Lagos Will Not Kill Me

Today I am reading through all my work thus far on my blog. My blog that I had abandoned.

What happened to me? I have no idea.

NO, scratch that, I do.


I had not looked at my blog in over a year. I just did not have the zeal to look at it, thinking I wasn’t such a great writer like my Sister, Olivia Oyibo (the babe is mean) or my friends, Adesuwa and Ella. They always had something to write and write they did.

I always had something to write but write I did not.

Marriage did not take that away from me; no- I know I had the support I wanted if I sought it from Husbandman. I just got tired of the hustle in Lagos. Lagos made me search myself and Lagos almost made me give up on myself.

I had to get up 6.00am in the morning or 5.30am to get to work for 8.00am. Getting to work is an ordeal when you can’t afford to take a cab. Too many people pushing you in the BRT;you’re standing and inhaling someone’s underarm, no not underarm- armpit ordour(pronounce as Ohdooough) because he’s taller than you are and has to hold on to the rail to keep steady in the moving vehicle. People everywhere and rude people too. Ticket girl is rude, driver is rude, people commuting to work, rude. You stay at work until 6.00pm or 7.00pm or 8.00pm or 9.00pm and get home between 9.00pm and 10.30pm. Sometimes 11.00pm. When you’re not in an Uber, you still meet rude people with smelly, sweaty bodies that if you’re wearing a sleeveless dress, you have to wrap yourself with a Pashmina. If Traffic will not keep you, work will keep you;If work doesn’t keep you, the fight on the road between vehicle owners and danfo drivers will keep you. You’re too tired to go beyond the perfunctory hello to the peeps at home and then sleep and the same cycle begins again for a week.

The weekend? You don’t have a washing machine so you have to wash with your hands; you have to go to the gym for an hour and a half and then you have to go to the market and start cooking. You have to make time for some friends who think you don’t have their time anymore and then kiss those friends who understand why you are no longer available. Your Saturdays pass by in a blur and you’re left with Sunday. Sometimes you go to church, sometimes you don’t. There’s no energy. You cook because there are those who have to eat on Sundays and you either go to the gym or go for house fellowship.

You tell yourself to sleep three hours on Sunday afternoon or you go to bed an hour or two early but then you wake up on Monday, well slept but not well rested. No escape, no respite- Hustle, Hustle, Hustle!!!

You used to love having guests around you but Lagos makes you dread people visiting because you just want your own time to do your own thing- which is nothing really-just staring into space, not dreaming like you used to…just worrying.

Then the times you try to go on Instagram, you see people who seem make Lagos seem like a breeze. They have an 8-4 or 8-5 job, or are bold enough to do their own thing; they’re mobile so they can afford to leap from one location to the other. They are either hustling on their own, branding for people or showcasing their designs on what dress they recently made etc. And you wonder if it’s not the same Lagos that seems to be zapping away at your energy. You can’t wake up to pray; the bible becomes boring; you are spiritually lethargic and wondering if God ever really loved you in the first place.

Cooking just doesn’t give you the solace anymore; you’re too tired to write; you’re too tired to read; you don’t bother with taking care of your hair anymore. Your body tells you, you can’t eat your cake and have it but you plod through everyday believing you’ll have enough rest this Saturday to pursue your own dreams.

Achenyo, Back to earth!

It ain’t gonna happen until you make time for it. I read something short on “Why won’t you be depressed?” Ife-Grace Dada wrote on Facebook in February this year on learning to say No. I have heard it a million times but maybe I needed to see it from her- There is nothing wrong with saying No so you can pursue your passions.Or No, so you can recharge, nothing wrong in saying I really need that lunch hour break and have my quiet time.

I think I am gradually having the awareness or realisation that I came to Lagos to enroll in a practical school about life. So far, the city’s been winning. I haven’t mastered the art of riding this town (more like galloping) the way others have but…your new year was January 1, 2017? My new year began February 1 2017. My resolution? This town will not kill me.

You remember when I said earlier that I didn’t think I was a good enough writer? So what? Do I have the passion to do this and get better? That’s when we should start talking. The difference between myself and Olivia Oyibo, Ella, Adesuwa and Lady Gabby is that that they had something to write and boy, they did.

I will not be overweight in this town;
I will not be exhausted to the point of uselessness in this town
I will not be passionless to the point of wastefulness in this town.
I shall take baby steps until I become what I should be, here or anywhere else.
Thank you Mercy and Grace for recently telling me to go back and read my writings (thanks Grace) or that you’re not worried for me, I can make it (thank you Mercy). Thanks MI for reminding me to put something down today.

Oh yeah, and to everyone else as well…

Lagos will not kill me.


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