Happy Sunday in Lagos

It’s often you hear people wishing you “happy Sunday” in Nigeria. I was told it means they want something from you.

At 7am, when I was deep asleep someone knocked at the door of my room. It was a woman with a tray with breakfast. A simple toast and tea. I took it, went back to bed. Another knock at the door. The woman again. She said she wanted to ask me for “something”. I asked what. “Transportation.” Money for transport. I was too sleepy to even discuss such, I said no.

Took me a while to get off bed. The shower is tiny but the machine dispensing water – several different showers, massage options – is there but the water is barely dripping down.

At reception I asked for a discount and I mentioned that the man in the room next door paid N5000 while I paid N7500. The man said the N5000 my neighbour paid was for “happy hour.” This was the price of 3 hour stay in the hotel. Ha.

I nevertheless asked for a discount, the man at the reception called the owner. The owner said the price I paid was already discounted. So that’s it.

I called a work friend, Sola. I thought I’d see her on Saturday but with the road from the border taking forever I didn’t. Sola lives in Sangotedo, a far South East of Lagos. 40kms away from where I stay. She didn’t first answer the phone but she soon called back and she said I should come before the traffic builds up and that means now.

Uber is a godsend in cities like Lagos, where taxis seem to be expensive. Now I can use Uber to get price estimate and ask taxi to match it. There is a taxi stand around. Uber said it would be N3100-4000 to Sola, I went and asked for N3500. The men started from N5000 but they soon agreed. I said I’d pay half of road toll that’s on our way, N100.

We got lucky, the old Hausa driver took me to Sola’s in about an hour. There were two accidents on our way, including one where four cars bumped into each other’s back one after another.

When we passed the areas on Victoria Island where I used to stay and work, I did feel a bit of nostalgia.

The last stretch to Sola’s house was quite awful and the taxi driver, and I, capitulated in front of a large water puddle. The man said he’d wait for me no matter how much time I’d take. I took around 3 hours.

Sola’s husband soon brought the taxi driver back in front of their house.

Inside we were chatting, Sola wanted to hear about every country I visited, her daughter, who graduated from law school, kept calling me uncle Bartek. I drank water, chapman – a particular kind of soft drink only found in Nigeria, usually delicious – and sweet red wine. I was fed rice and chicken (in a delicious sauce) and beans. There was no light so the house was running on the generator – Sola keeps her all drinks in a freezer and only unfreezes the drinks when needed.

After 3 hours I took the taxi back to Surulere to visit another work friend, Mimy. Mimy is originally from Congo and lives with her daughter Amyn, who gave me the invitation when I was applying for Nigerian visa. We got lucky with the road again – although going the opposite direction the go-slow seemed to stretch a few kilometres already.

At Mimy’s there was light. Amyn said she had no idea how I managed my trip, Mimy said the same. Of course everyone is tired of Nigeria and even Africa. Mimy is always full of stories when you trigger her, she’s also well travelled in the region. I had Guinness and a banga soup, a slimeish yellow sauce with some leaves and pieces of meat. It was delicious but by the look of it I wouldn’t pick it myself in a cantine. Amyn cooks very well.

As I was leaving, the light went off. It was around 8pm. Amyn ordered Uber for me, somehow she gets a coupon of N500 discounts for Uber every week, for 5 rides and she doesn’t use them, driving herself. She said the driver would be pissed when he’d see the bill as the ride back to my hotel was about N600.

The bill was N46. The driver laughed. I gave him N500 bill and asked for N400 change, he didn’t have the change and he let me go for free. In Nigeria.

I went to the drinking joint, which was packed more than on Saturday. I found a seat and enjoyed Guinness and music, which although most of it was local r’n’b some of it was very intense and it made your hips move on their own. And truez people would stand up from their seats and dances by the tables. And people here know how to move.

My young friend from yesterday found me. He sat on my knees and he was making gestures as if he wanted to drink. Having a small child in a loud bar at 10pm is questionable but what can the mother do? But by the time I found a waiter and got a bottle of water the boy and his sister and mother left.