I know that Toyin lived in Gbagada, and that was all very well and good but Toyin was no show stopper of a tune. Toyin was the filler material in between the two songs that you loved. It was the song that stopped you from changing the radio channel not the song that forced you to tune into one. This isn't a bad thing at all, not every song can be the single. Some are destined to be filler material for the album.

When they released Selecta some time in December, Onos O the music guy for Bella Naija said,

"DRB Lasgidi take an experimental stab at Dubstep on their official second single, “Selecta”. Fresh L, TeeZee and Boj are also assisted by the “Ghetto” crooner, Shank on this one."

Bull shit! It may be experimental but it isn't dub step. It is a rager, a banger, a CHUNE!!! When the beat drops and the creepy voice in the background instructs you to give them, you're not chilling in your mates apartment partaking of hashish as you are wont to do when you listen to dubstep; you are giving them!! Yes!! Your body is doing things that you neither understand nor care about because the need to move is so pressing that you cannot control yourself.


When I say I'm going home for the holidays, you mustn't look at me with pity because you imagine that I'm going to some third world country where the poverty is so apparent that it puts a depressing light on everything. You must look at me with envy because I'm going to a place where the summer never ends; where the party quite literally never ends.

It was at this juncture that I thought it would be best if I conferred with the queen of all Lagosian paroles (Paroles are the movements we make on a night out. Any Lagosian twenty something knows that a night with only one parole is hardly a night at all. There must be paroles!! From Churascos, we must go to Sip, and from Sip we must go to Likwid where we will be pushed around, may enter gutters and may be shot at but it's still all good; from Likwid we must go to Radisson Blue and from there we must go back to Likwid.)

Enter Afam and Fiki

Afam: Fiki, can I ask you a couple of questions about the selecta video?

Fiki: Pants! You just distracted me from my Ruzzle game against Goriola.

Afam: But we all know that it isn't necessary to complete all three rounds to beat Goriola.

Fiki: Point well made.

Afam: So what did you think about the video?

Fiki: It was beyond sick. It captured the best of the Lagos cruise.

Afam: You would know wouldn't you.

Fiki: That's all I have time for today I'm afraid. Goodbye.

The dismissal was the verbal equivalent of a spear through my heart.

Because some of you haven't got the benefit of decent enough internets that you can watch the video without smashing your device, I, Afam, the benevolent, will describe to you the events that took place in the video.

One day, while driving on a road that wasn't or isn't quite a road, the boys of DRB Teezee, Fresh L and Boj spotted a group of hot Mamas who had broken their classic Benz. It is likely that driving on such an uncivilized road is the very thing that broke the Benz but they are women, so we'll forgive them.


 As they are not lacking in chivalry, the lads decided to pull over and discover what tragedy could possibly have befallen the poor damsels.

Teezee: Why are you standing outside your car like that? Are you trying to pull a Megan Fox on us?

Boj: Yes, they were standing outside so provocatively to seduce us.

Girls: No, the bucket of bolts has broken down. :-(

FreshL: It's okay. I know a thing or two about the fixing of cars. Let me take a look at it.
Fresh L: You car appears to need a few taps. I'll just prod around, without doing much at all and it'll be as good as new in no time.

Girl: I cannot thank you enough. If you do what you've promised, I'll see that you're well rewarded. ;-)

Teezee: You better hurry up and fix this thing buddy. I need that reward. It's been too long since my last reward.

Fresh L: Wasn't that two days ago?

Teezee: Two days too long.





 Boj: Boys!!!! to the banter wagon!!!

Teezee: My jeans are falling down.

Fresh L: Why you no wear belt

Teezee: Shut up there. Even with me beltless you have carried last.




Fresh L: But I am trying!!

 Fresh L: Right Ho!! Pedal to the metal Boj!!



 Girl 1: We've finally made it to the dock.

Girl 2: But why did you promise them anything?

Girl 1: I didn't think they would chase us for this long.

Girl 3: I kind of like being chased. It makes my inner goddess say Oh my!!

Girl 2: Inner goddess? Has someone been reading a little too much 50 shades?

Girl 3: I think Boj might be my Christian.

Girl 1: Run faster!! They would have caught us by now if they hadn't stopped for a change of clothes.

 Teezee: Damn they're getting into a boat.

Fresh L: It's cool, Mr Alex is just round the corner. He's pulling up now.

Boj: How did Mr Alex know where we were?

Fresh L: Oh that... He shadows me on water. You never know when a high speed water get away might be needed.

 Boj: Enough chat! put your backs into it.
Fresh L: Good job guys we made it. After them Boj!! In the mean time, my legs are cramping. I think I'll spread them out.

Teezee: I think I'll join you. I'm much too old for this.

This is a brilliant t-shirt. I want! I want! There's a Walk the Moon reference somewhere there.

 Dekunle Abudu: Teezee you bad guy. I know what you are doing. I see you.

Teezee: The eye sees not itself.
 Boj: So you've finally come to daddy and stopped running.

Girl: I'm a little bit of a runs girl. I had to make sure that you were in it for the long haul.

Boj: FreshL and Teezee you guys are lagging behind.

Teezee: I know. But my baby has disappeared yet again.

Fresh L: She seems to have escaped to the beach.

 Teezee: I see. I will catch you by force. Today na today. You no go escape.

 Fresh L: Story Man. Can't you see that they've stopped running.



And so it was that all the boys of DRB walked off into the Lagosian sunset with the girls of their dreams.


Happy Days,
Afam

Before I begin, I feel like I should apologize for splitting the features on the koko concert. You see it is one thing to skewer the villains and charlatans that organised the damned thing and it is another to comment on the performances. I didn't want the undoubtedly shitty circumstances to poison your minds. So take a deep breath, calm yourselves, reach that place of Zen. Are your inner waters at peace? If so, read on, but if not take a deeper breath.

I, Afam am no longer a Johnny Just Come (JJC) to these West African armpit shores. Surely you've heard that Nigeria is a significant part of the armpit of Africa, I think this is catchier and more true than the Heart of Africa because countries and continents don't have hearts. Even if they did it is impossible to measure which heart is the heartiest of the lot. Can you say that a Ghanaian heart is better than a Nigerian one? As I am no longer a Johnny Just Come, I do not feel the ants in my pants that I used to feel whenever I was late to an event. I left my house at 11pm and got within striking distance of the concert in 30 minutes.

I was stood at the most precarious place for not 2 yards from me were some young lads partaking of hashish. I was rather surprised as I had never seen anyone partake of hashish so openly and in such a crowded venue. People were also guzzling spirits by the bottle. I couldn't blame them. Not everyone is me. Not everyone is capable of reaching inner peace and tranquility with gentle long deep breaths. It's not your fault. I judge not.

There were comedians on stage but truth be told I did not brave the man made desert that is Eko Atlantic for them. I came for Wizkid (he didn't perform though), the current lord of all Vandals Dbanj, DRB, Ajebutter, the extremely elusive Burna boy, Tinie Tempah and Big Sean.

The first musician on stage was flowsick. I could not believe that this was the compensation for my efforts. It was like Christmas in 2006, when Papa Afam wrote in my Christmas card, "Sorry, Santa couldn't deliver this year. He was stuck in the war in Afghanistan." It was so disappointing I could not believe it was happening to me. Flowsick wanted to give it to us low key, but with a voice like the one he displayed on stage it is a wonder how he isn't anything but low key. I would suggest that the performance was bad enough to condemn him to irrelevance but I'd probably be wrong. Below, is the studio version of the song.


Next was DRB. The crowd wasn't theirs at all. But they tried. They powered through with their incredible work ethic. It was not their fault that the crowd was moody, foul tempered and lackluster. They were the victims here. I enjoyed their set. You see, back when I was a young un, I went to school in Gbagada and so did Toyin. It's kind of funny no? You have to allow the odd wise crack. Dry jokes are the best jokes.


Then came Ajebutter. The first song he did was Omo pastor with the help of Boj. It was brilliant. For the first time that night the crowd came alive. Hands were waving, people were screaming and I am pleased to say that I was among them. I need a Pastors daughter in my life. I will put this in my prayers for 2013. Senrenre was less popular and I was shocked by this because I am never not in the mood to hear it.
I maintain that the white person in the video, there's only one, looks like a certain old Cheltonian in the University of Manchester. 

You know that I don't know the name of every Nigerian performer right? The fellow that followed Ajebutter was one of the ones that I didn't know. He performed a song about booties bouncing. Let that booty bounce or something like that. He even had a semi skilled dancer accompany him on stage. For all the provocative dancing, it was frightfully dull. So dull that I found myself thinking of my January exams. Do you know that in 1952 China was perhaps less industrialized than India? Thank me later.

It was at this juncture that I decided that if I didn't know them, then I wouldn't blog about them. It's only fair isn't it?

My favourite Mammy Water was the next performer that I knew. It was the one, the only, Seyi Shay. Tonight Seyi chose to wear a bright red sequined mini dress that barely covered her crotch. I liked this a lot. Her legs looked long. I was a little green with envy that I wasn't closer to the stage. The view there must have been awesome.  She was pretty good. As far as singing goes she was easily the best of the night. I enjoyed it.


Iyanya of Kukere came on next. Do you know that Iyanya's car plate is IYANYA? During his performances I started to formulate the theory that Nigerian musicians live aren't musicians at all but hypemen of their own music. When the backing track is as loud as the microphone and all you're really doing is shouting EH!! and YEAH!! are you not a hype man? Kukere is a brilliant song so in spite of the fact that he couldn't really hold a tune or sing on key or not sound flat I really enjoyed his performance. This is a fine example of expectations management. If you have extremely negative expectations, you can only ever be pleasantly surprised.

 Iyanya also performed your waist. As some of you do not know the song I shall transcribe the lyrics I remember.


Man (Iyanya): "Your waist, your waist, all I want is your waist"

Girl: "My waist, my waist, all you want is my waist. You want my waist my waist. You want my freaking (it could be freaky) waist boy"

I think it's a little poetic. However I have to say that they waisted a brilliant dancer. She got no credit for her extraordinarily paced gyrations. I believe that she could be the answer to the energy crisis.

See what I did there? I'm sitting on my couch thinking, "Afam! you're such a genius!" You don't agree? Well, my opinion is the only opinion that counts. I kid. Also I missed Tosan Mac Wilshire's dancing here. He gives new meaning to the phrase, "your waist."


After him came Burna Boy. Burna boy has been something of an enigma this christmas. Before the Koko concert he was scheduled to do two other concerts (the DRB concert and the Chris Brown concert) but he was a no show. In my opinion this calls his work ethic into question. It's like missing work without calling in sick. He performed his song, Like to party.

Because I'm a sort of aspiring writer, I consider myself a writer and like most writers I believe that the climax should only come a few pages from the end and not one second before. So, I am very uncomfortable telling you that Burna boy, who only performed one song was the HIGHLIGHT of the night. For 5 minutes the crowd forgot about all their troubles (and their troubles were rather significant) and enjoyed the damned concert. Hands were waving, guys and girls were screaming, a girl next to me was grinding on a guy's head. Who does that?! I guess that's how much people liked Burnaboy. They liked him enough to ignore all that is good and natural in the world.


I know that the quality of his voice is suspect, but it's still a pretty decent song. He was undoubtedly the winner of the night! #winning #BurnaForTheWin

After him came Dami Krane. Following Burna boy can't have been the easiest task in the world, but on the other hand the crowd was more alive than it had been in hours. Dami Krane put us all back to sleep. Like a vampire he sapped the people of their zest for life. I cannot tell you what he performed. I can only tell you that I received negative utility from watching it. This my dear friends and enemies, for enemies are just as dear to me as friends, is negative satisfaction. You could compare it to walking naked through a field of stinging nettles or sleeping in a bed full of ants. I was delighted to see the back of him.

Next came Ice Prince, and all he did was hype himself. There existed no great distinction between him and Dami Krane. It might be better to sleep, than to see him live.


It is rather unfortunate that Tinie Tempah followed him because the crowd was even more hostile than it had been at the beginning. If not for the usurper Burna boy, Tinie would have been the night's champion. I enjoyed his set as much or even more than Burna boy's but the crowd was more alive during Burna boy's so as much as it pains me, I cannot award him the title of Champion (or Tampon... the combination of Chamion and Tinie Tempah is undoubtedly a tampon). Patrick Chukwuemeka Okogwu (Tinie Tempah) did well. I sang Written in the Stars, even when I knew that I could not possibly sing that ridiculously high note in the chorus, I danced violently and spastically to Miami to Ibitha (he called it Miami to Lagos for the purposes of the night) even though the steps I was standing on were more than a little bit shaky and unstable. I would have whipped off my t-shirt and twirled it like a baton during pass out but I wasn't wearing a t-shirt and Papa Afam was in attendance. I cannot allow my chief employer to see me acting anything but appropriately. Underneath his gaze I must be the paragon of uprightness and good behaviour.

After Tinie came Pusha T. During Pusha T's performance I sat down and fell asleep. I kid you not. I even tweeted it here: 

Part I: http://theramblingsofamadman-afam.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-drb-lasgidi-adventure-sort-of-part.html

****
Part II

When I left you I was held fast in my seat by DJ Pizzle's beats, damn him! If not for him I would have made it home in time for Captain Reginald's supper. Captain Reginald is my Pedigree Rottweiler. Behold his dashing countenance below

Tell me, honestly, have you ever seen anything as handsome? How sparkly are his eyes? How lustrous is his coat? Are you not rendered completely speechless?

Before I begin, I must complain quite bitterly. I, Afam cannot possibly be expected to know or remember the name of every up and coming or already up musician in Lagos. I just discovered Burna boy yesterday and he has this one song that's unbelievably good, something about saying hello and fancying people. If I have only just discovered Burna boy who I gather is quite popular, then how on earth am I supposed to remember a multitude of artists that I have never heard of without a program? Am I a wizard?

First up on stage was a band of young lads. They were probably in their early teens. I cocked my head to one side and readied myself for the worst. I did not understand why I should have to listen to 13 and 14 year olds crooning. What could they possibly be singing about that I, Afam a 22 year old would find remotely interesting? I braced myself for the cringes that would rack my body with each bum note and unbelievably daft lyric. I was genuinely surprised that while they weren't amazing, they weren't awful. They were somewhere between average and bad, and as we all know this is at least five parts better than awful. I suppose they were just as good as Lana Del Ray is live. I cannot comment on their lyrical content as I didn't hear any of it.

Next on Stage was BEZ! Upon seeing him my body did an involuntary spasm. I fought tooth and nail to resist screaming, "BEZ, I LOVE YOU!! I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES!!" Yes, that is what I tend to scream at artistes that I really like. Yes, I am also aware that I can't have babies as I am a man. No, I would not actually like to have Bez's babies. It's just a controversial statement that I think is somewhat clever...

I also felt quite sorry for him because the crowd at the concert was the furthest thing from his fan base. It was full of young adults and children. You may not know this but I dislike children. They're loud, messy, grubby, mean, little things. I dislike them even more when they're fat. This is possibly because I, Afam was never a child. I was the brain child of a quiet soft spoken and rather handsome 21 year old fellow. I did not become awesome, I was born this way. There was a child sitting beside me. He was a fat 10 year old who felt that the most appropriate snack for the night was a never ending supply of ice-cream. I did my best not to look at him, for fear that I might explode him with my mind.

Bez was brilliant as always. He even covered ABC by Jackson 5. The dead crowd became a little less dead while he played that. It is unfortunately that while the crowd was a little less dead, they were still undoubtedly dead!

How can you doubt that he is a Super Sun? Behold his radiance!!

Speaking of which I had the following conversation with Bez on twitter.


 And that folks is why they call me a SUPER WASHERMAN!!! My washing's so slick I don't need bleach. Sorry, that sounded a lot better in my head. :(

After Bez came a nice young woman in a black leather skirt. Her performance was rather interesting. I think she might be the one that did that Kilon Bubbling song. Well, at first she strode unto the stage and her male dancers did some rather odd movements. I will not attempt to interpret the movements for they like God are beyond mortal comprehension. She proceeded to sing a love ballad to a young man that was not me, Afam. So of course my attention wavered. It was during this performance that I saw Fisayo Longe of mirrorme.me. She wore the following:

I thought she looked rather nice. Don't be silly! Fisayo knows better than to wear shades indoors. I take no credit for the picture, it's one that Fisayo took herself and put on her blog: http://mirrorme.me

After the Lady who shall not be named because I do not know her name finished crooning to the young man, she did an uptempo jam. During this uptempo jam one of her female dancers attempted to do a Chinese bend or a bridge and fell. Did I not tell you that the dance moves were beyond mortal comprehension?

This is the Lady that I cannot name. The dancer on her left is the one that graced the stage with her bottom.

I should probably talk about the MC now. The MC was Tosan Mac Wilshire. I know of him but I can't say that I know him and this is a shame for he is quite the spritely fellow. I was quite frankly astounded at the ferocity with which he transported his ample body up and down the arena. He was a sight to see. His moves brought tears to my eyes. I thought, "With moves like those who needs game? Here is a lad who will do well in the wild!" That was until that your waist song came on. He moved his waist rather abominably.

After Tosan's antics came Seyi Shay. this may or may not be her name. I have to give her kudos because she was actually pretty darn good. It was the first performance where I did not have to think about the health of my ear drums. Half way through the performance she seemed to be taken over by her alter ego, who I named nick named Mammy (short for mammy water). I was thoroughly entertained by her antics on stage.

The next people on stage were the LOS boys. After watching their performance quite closely I came to the conclusion that they didn't make my sort of music. They might also have been drunk and/or high. Watching other people drunk or high while you are completely sober is no fun at all. You might think this harsh but I can think of no other explanation for this.

Only God knows why he sat down on stage. Maybe it's his thing. In which case I apologise for stating that they might have been drunk and/or high.

Never mind me. Their fans (and believe me there were many) seemed to love what they were doing.

When the LOS boys were done,  J Ara took their place. This may or may not be his name. I can't say much about him. During his performance I visualized myslef finishing Halo 4. It is quite the enjoyable game. You should try it. If I were to choose a word to describe his performance it would be impactless. I'm Afam. I usually have an opinion about everything, so for J Ara to completely slip past my radar, you might not want him on yours. #justsaying.

After him, Ajebutter went on stage. He performed two songs, Omo Pastor and Senrenre. I was electrified. He was brilliant. The songs were brilliant. The crowd loved him. There's only one more thing I can say about his set, "it sweeted my body!!!!!"

I did that on purpose. If you cannot tell what it is that I did on purpose then I can offer English lessons at a respectable fee. So many are in need...

After him, Boj, Tee Zee and Fresh L (DRB) graced the stage. I'll be honest, it probably wasn't their best performance but it seemed to be about so much more than that. I thought it was a celebration of all that they had achieved since they started. They invited friends and family on stage and I spotted my childhood friend, Pappy there with them. Life's funny like that. People turn up when and where they're expected the least. When they were done, I rounded the troops as it was already past 11pm and I didn't think it appropriate that they be out any later than that. As I've said before, Lagos is intolerably exciting and I'd really like to avoid the Lagosian brand of night time excitement this Christmas. (Police and Thief? Afam and the Robbers? Adventure on that unlit war zone like road? Shoot out at the Crossroads?)

Happy Days, Merry nights,
Afam
 

On Thursday night the first ever DRB concert was held and I Afam was present, front and center. Well... not exactly front and center. To have been front and center I would have needed fifteen thousand naira (£60) for a VIP ticket. Normally I would have bitten the bullet but the opportunity cost was too high. My expenses were piling up. Tickets to the Chris Brown concert start at fifteen thousand naira, my Corolla has no fuel, Captain Reginald is low on dog biscuits and treats. Have you ever tried to explain to a full grown pedigree Rottweiler that you were unable to get his favourite brand because you spent too much on concert tickets? I could not bring myself to do such a thing.

After my last experience with DRB Lasgidi, I was a little more cautious. The last time I attempted to see them live I got to the venue at the prescribed time only to wait for three hours before seeing them on my way out. It was a very rewarding experience I tell you. I had quite the exciting nap. I slayed the whomping willow and chased a red haired maid all over Hogwarts. Time well spent I say. The concert was meant to start at 6pm so I left my house at 6pm. I was certain that Lagos would throw a multitude of obstacles at me to ensure that I magically arrived whenever the concert was meant to start.

My sister, Bintin and Ope, one of her many friends were with me in the car. I was driving.

Feat your eyes on the one, the only, pimp mobil, lad chariot (LARIOT?), Afam carriage, blue bolt, car of steel, super Toyota, etc.

Enter Bintin, Ope and Afam


Ope: Oh My God! I can't believe we're going to see DRB.

Bintin: It's their first concert. I'm so excited.

Ope: I don't know what I'll do when I see Boj! I think I might faint.

Bintin: Boj is nothing special. It's all about Fresh L. He's too... too... He's just too fresh!!!

Ope: I don't know what you see in him. Boj is just... artistic. 

As I hit the Lekki Express way Bintin delivered the most unfavourable news.

Bintin: Afam, we have to pick Chibz up.

Afam: Cool. Doesn't Chibz live in Lekki phase 1?

Bintin: No, he lives closer to VGC.

I nearly had a heart attack. Driving to VGC is just as bad as driving to Ogun State. I only do it on pain of death. But I had to this time, Chibz is my cousin and if you can't come through for family then what are you doing? I increased the pressure on the accelerator. I intended to beat the traffic. I was certain that there would be traffic. Isn't there always traffic enroute to VGC?

After we passed the second tollgate I had the following conversation with dear Bintin

Afam: So where does he live again?

Bintin: The right turn after Megachicken.

We got to Megachicken only to discover that that was not where Chibz lived. We had missed the turning to his house and even worse we had finally met the traffic I had been so keen to avoid. We had to drive through it to make a U turn at the round about. We did this thrice before we finally picked him up. The things I do for family!!

We drove into Harbour point at 9pm. I was a little worried at first. I thought we had missed half the concert but then I thought to myself,

"Dude! you're in Lagos. It isn't better late than never, it's better late than ever! I think you've finally arrived at the right time for something. Congratulations!"

When we walked in, I was surprised to find the arena quite empty. I considered leaving but DJ Pizzle's tunes kept me firmly in place. That can only serve as a testament to DJ Pizzle's DJing abilities. A good DJ arrests you with his music, renders you incapable of logical thought and reduces you to the most spastic movements. Are they not terrible? Within minutes I found my left leg ticking to the music. I looked on with inquisitive eyes, and wondered what the night had in store...

Happy Days,
Afam

Bear with me, for as I write these words, I myself have no idea where I will end up. Such are the dangers of rambling.

I detailed the circumstances regarding my flight back to Lagos in "Hogwarts and Unicorns: The trip to Lagos" but I did not or could not tell you of the incidents after it at the time, because I wrote most of that feature whilst on-board the aircraft. The circumstances regarding our landing were most peculiar. Nigerians have a tendency to be rather eager and enthusiastic regarding the movements of their hands. They often feel the need to clap them together with little or no provocation. I am not unfamiliar with the concept of applause, but I was of the opinion that it was to be used in two circumstances:

1. Someone has done something highly commendable so you celebrate them by producing as much noise as your frame can muster. In this case it is permissible to stamp your feet, clap your hands and hoot as loudly as possible. If you do this well enough, the recipient of your attention's head will swell and explode.
2. Someone is putting you through an epically horrifying experience. This experience is often like passing crushed glass through your ears, or your colon. In order to put an end to your torture you applaud them for their efforts and beseech them to depart from the stage prematurely. This is the best outcome for all parties involved because you don't hurt the individuals feelings and your ears are saved from further torture.

In this instance, the pilot's undoubtedly bumpy and slidy landing was celebrated with a round of applause. I cannot and will not attempt to understand it. It is and will always be a curious incident that occurred at night time.

The remainder of my journey was exactly what I have come to expect from the Murutala Mohammed International airport. I'll write it in song.

It was hot and sweaty,
La la la la la
The airport was dirty
tra la la la la
The people in the queue were smelly
doo be doo be doo

(On a more serious note, Nigerian body odour is so remarkable a scent that it should be bottled. I fear that it may be an evolutionary mutation developed to cope with the dominance of mosquitoes. You don't think so? Well, I'd hate to think that the sole reason for it was the lack of decent and proper hygiene.)

There was a tout amongst us,
la la la la la
He fought with the immigrations officer
dum dum dum
Do I know what happened?
tra la la la la
No at all, all, all.

The carousel was slow,
lo lo lo lo lo
Our luggage came out last,
la la la la
No really, the wakeboard was the last thing off the flight
dum dum dum
This song sucks?
What did you expect?
the waiting was much.

A remarkable picture of the airport. I'm starting to think that Nigeria may be better in pictures.

Murtala Mohammed International airport is a genius invention. Even if you'd been away for so long that your memory of life in Nigeria appears to you as a dream or a sequence of events from someone else's life, the airport shall correct your misconceptions. In that airport you will be exposed to everything Nigeria has to offer; the best and the worst of it. You'll see the bribery and corruption as some able bodied little Lord Farquaad speeds past you in an airport go-kart reserved for the disabled and gets put on the much shorter queue for foreign citizens when his passport is as green as yours. You'll see the branded suitcases that may cost as much as one of the men pushing your trolley does for a year. Then you'll see the die hard, "yippie kai yay" motherfucker mentality of the people (Unshakable Optimism? I got a little carried away with my descriptions). Every employee of the airport will be looking to make a quick buck out of you. I am of the firm belief that the man who first said that a fool and his money are soon parted was Nigerian, because the phrase is truest here.


It should come as no surprise that I was in shock. After such a hectic trip; a trip that British Airways themselves declared unfortunate for I, Afam was a rose seated between two thorns (their words not mine). I expected to be driven home so that I could collapse on my impossibly hard double bed that I had missed for a year. I kid you not when I say that my bed is harder than the floor. But this was not to be. All my dreams of being a Howard Hughs-esque recluse were dashed for I was carted to a Davido concert. You see my sister, Bintin, was in attendance. I got to the venue at 10:30. The main man had not yet come on stage. I was surprised because this was a Sunday and the Monday that would undoubtedly follow was not a public holiday. So why would a concert (especially one targeted at people too young to be roaming about at night in the undoubtedly unsafe and intolerably exciting society that Lagos is) have any cause to start so late?

 Lagos is like a big budget movie, a kidnapping here, an armed robbery there; it's all fun and games till it's you, or someone you know.

 I comforted my sister as big brothers do, because there was no way that I was going to turn up at Papa Afam's door with his only daughter in the early hours of the morning just because she wanted to see Davido.

A week and a bit later, another opportunity arose to sample the Lagos music scene. It was the DRB Lasgidi industry night at the Oriental Hotel in Lagos. It was a free concert. I was quite keen to see them live. I had heard of them while I was doing my A levels, till this day I appreciate their work ethic and dedication. I am distinctly pleased that they have kept at it for so long and are now reaping the fruit of their labours. I don't mind their music. When I hear their stuff on the radio I do not feel the need to attempt to incinerate the radio with my mind. Having said that, it is important to mention that upon listening to their music I am not overcome with the need to drive myself to the nearest internet hotspot to begin a stalking and downloading spree. To make up for the disappointment of the night of the Davido concert I decided to take my sister to the DRB Lasgidi industry night. She in turn brought her posse.

I drove into Oriental at 7pm sharp.

Enter Afam, Bintin, Jolz and Wam.

Bintin: It looks dead.
Jolz: It starts at seven right?
Wam: Yeah, 7.
Afam: Are you sure?
Bintin: You doubt me?
Afam: Not at all, it's just that these things are harldy ever this empty. This is a blessing though, we'll get awesome seats.
Wam: When do we have to be home.
Afam: We'll leave at 10pm and get home before 10:30pm.
Bintin: Can't we leave at 10:30?

The answer to Bintin's question is silence. The terms of Bintin's curfew are not negotiable.

You can tell from the above conversation that I was a Johnny Just Come (JJC), I had forgotten the rules of Nigerian time. This was my second offense. The long standing rule of Nigerian time is that if there is an event, you must ignore the time of arrival prescribed by the organisers, for the organisers know not of what they speak when they tell you that they want you there at 7pm. Truth be told they really want you there at 11pm or 12am. The laws of punctuality fail to hold in Nigeria, and it isn't better late than never, it's better late than ever!

It should come as no surprise to you that there was no one there. In fact, the hotel had not finished setting up for the event. Being deathly allergic to waiting and having nothing to do, I abandoned my wards and went home to enjoy a light supper and some Olympic fun. But even this was not to be. As I settled on the couch to sup and watch, I found myself in the other plane, the dream plane. In this episode I, Afam fought with a great white and came out on top. I then proceeded to grill it on a skewer. I never got to taste it for I remembered that there was some place that I had to be. I leapt from the couch like a dervish and raced to the pimp mobile. I found that there was no need for my hustle and bustle because even at a few minutes past 10 the concert had yet to begin.

At that I rounded up the troops and took them home. As luck would have it, we spotted the DRB gang stepping out of their ride as I drove out of Oriental. I wanted to jump out and say, "Hey, we waited! Where were you?" but I thought the better of it. I could not blame them for my ignorance of Nigerian social etiquette.

Happy Days,
Afam.