I’ve been here for a day so far and I must say that culture shock is a tad bit of an understatement. Police carry automatic weapons freely, the highways are chaotic, the food is unique, power outrages are a norm, and the heat is a sneaky little bastard I must add. The sky’s are in a constant haze, but the humidity can beat down on you like Amanda Nunes did to Rhonda rousey . Too soon?
What’s been the most shocking so far has been some of the underdevelopment I’ve seen. Roads aren’t adequately paved, men cart around fresh water in beat-up reusable jugs to provide the townspeople with drinkable water, and buildings are dilapidated.
I had a conversation with a gentleman from New Orleans on the airplane to Nigeria and he told me “You can’t forgot the smell in Lagos, Nigeria. It smells like someone left a lawnmower on in the garage with the garage door closed.” I thought he was kidding, only to find out that he couldn’t have been more accurate. The smell is something else. The moment it hit my nostrils I was reminded that I was far from Kansas. Far from Kansas indeed.
Regardless of everything I’ve said, the city is alive and beautiful. Street vendors sell goods on the highway during traffic hours (yes you heard me right), the people greet you with a “sir” or “madam,” And all of the business I have visited so far have been African owned. It’s really an amazing site to see.
But I digress. I happened to check out Nigerian night life at a lounge in Victoria Island and the music got me wobbling and bobbling my head like a mad man. It was amazing. There’s something about it that creates the uncontrollable desire to move. Maybe the music is that good, or maybe it speaks to me on a deeper level than I can express in words.