Melay is obsessed with Danish furniture.
My studio needs more furniture
Ijeoma doesn’t know what to do with herself this particular afteroon ( she’s usually bored and rides around looking for things to do) and decides to join us.
So here we are, walking to the army in search of chairs , tables and afforable vintage whatnots, our shadows walking ahead of us with such character, that I had a take a picture.
Confidence is a bitch.. right Kanye?… Who has completely changed by the way.
And Ben Okri goes on to say that “it is not you the world sees but that power”
Complete with an oversized sweat suit, you know, those suede kinds. A rather large timberland boots with its laces tightly tied around her rather bony legs.
This woman could not be a day less than 45years of age but wore her durag better than this street boys I see, walking with the natural swagger of a person who had seen it all, done it all and might be able to do it once more.
Her lips darkened from years of weed smoking; with browned teeth indicating some type of tobacco smoking in fact she had a cigar in her hands.
Aside her was a man, the unspoken literature of men who’ve shared experiences hazed around them. She even let her mouth sling open like children you see and just want to say” close you mouth.”
The sight of her stopped me in my tracks. She embodied the realities of hardship in the ghetto, the blues of old Baltimore and a look that wasn’t above corner hustles at all.
For a few seconds I pondered, she has got to be an original gangster.
*An original, do not steal.
Photo: Oroma
This is the classic raining season view from my taxi on my way to the Lekki art market. My driver called it the River Niger.
Lagos, simply put, is both a beauty and a mess.
I left Nigeria when I was in very young and didn’t understand much past what happened amongst my peers and boarding school, and Lagos too is a state I’ve never really lived in, so my opinions are strictly that derived from my visits, which has been twice.
Once upon a time, Abuja was way too dry both climate wise and socially to like. Now, it is the ultimate place when I can actually enjoy being in Nigeria.
Forget Port Harcourt, only the Lebanese are brave enough to stay there amidst the oil torn communities, which have resulted in the kidnapping of both outsiders and themselves as a means of channeling what anger they owe the government and local leaders.
I’m from the Niger Delta part of Nigeria, so it hurts to talk about how our leaders, the oil companies and the government maltreat our communities or my poor people who suffer from lack of education or how our communities are run, the effect of the flaring on land and food, or the youth who are crumbling under unemployment and crime.
I, of course, write this from the perspective of a Nigerian who wants better for her people. I cannot claim however to understand everything that goes on with oil and politics in Nigeria, in fact, I have only witnessed one oil related riot in my life: the ELF raid in the Ogbaland. Yes, as young as I was, I followed and watched the oil companies raided and set on fire, pipelines broken, which had crude oil running into our homes and such little did I know this would lead to constant electricity and running water but still I did not fully fathom so I have referred to books to understand this things. I recommend “Nigeria in Crisis” by Karl Maier.
I did not enjoy my stay in Lagos. A friend’s status on BBM boldly reads: “whatever the question is, Lagos was not the answer” and for my recent visit, I agree.
It is the raining season and my sense of smell is heightened. I smell everything; I smell the gutters, and everything in between.
The roads are not pedestrian friendly.
Lagosians take the award for rude stares, teeth sucking and finger snapping for things that they do not understand- they will undress you rudely, in fact rape you with their eyes. While I have gotten used to people looking at my hairstyles and way of dress, it still shocks me that in the center of excellence as Lagos claims to be, the authority in media where subcultures have fully emerged, omo funkies (artsy people) like myself have to protect ourselves by never leaving our privately rented taxis and circle.
The cable needs to be constantly reset because the light goes off constantly.
Men are extremely sexist.
Rich men have 7-10 cars and all of them are on the road, along side junky cars( causing enormous 2-4hours traffic. Just imagine, yes try to imagine, yourself on a Lagos bus, non-functioning parts for 2 hours, plus gas fumes and sweat all over you. Can you?
My people still go through this and yes fela’s “suffering and smiling” is the perfect track to understand this scenario.
“Auntie, Abeg na, gimme me small money nah” is still the main language on the streets. Even the police beg. They do not search for seat belts and check if indeed you are drunk, which we were, when returning from the clubs but to ask you to “do them a weekend” They will either beg you for it or find a way to take it from you. These thieves will even announce that they need to cheat you in order to eat.
Sometimes I wonder if and how I come from this? Am I really Nigerian? I have to tell you how much Nigerians love themselves.
We love ourselves way too much to rise up and fight against all this, to die for the future of our kids or ourselves if we live long enough, no no why? When we can send our kids abroad or live away from it?
The rich who have the power to make changes are only concerned about their families. I heard the word daddy, daddy too many times in my stay and of course daddy has to do what he has to for the happy poor little rich child. I know friends who will tell me they cannot live or survive in Nigeria without daddy’s money and it is true. Nigeria is not even designed for women. Ours is a struggle entirely different and a bit too personal to go into right now. The poor are way too hungry to fight – the question is- fight Na food? Nah true sha, Fight no be food to answer that but it will and can be in the future. Sow your seeds, be patient so you can reap its fruit. For where? (yeah right)
It is either this question or the statement: “God is in control.” My people leave the simplest things to god. What is god, your house help? Can’t you do some things for yourself? Another lazy response to our condition is that “no condition is permanent”
My people, a condition that changes is the work of hands and minds that want that change.
The question I pose is that the America, this America that my people dream of running to, where as I have heard many time is organized, plentiful and lawful, was it not the hand works of civil right activists, black power movements, social justice fighters who fought, shed blood, shot guns, rallied to command changes. Will any African dare to dream of an America if it were still a slave country? Where human and civil rights are ignored?
I know my next statement is charged but I strongly believe its shared by many who will not speak it – Nigeria will shed some blood, go through another civil or divide for things to get better because Things are not good at all. There has not been a proper dialogue amongst tribes and leaders on how it can be made better and people have gotten used it to.
The main problem is that my people are used to it. Conditioned to just pray and watch for judgment day.
The good of the country, the good of Nigeria is for the rich- my humble opinions of course. I mean how can poor people really survive?
I hate to talk of the beauty of Nigeria sometimes because it really does shift the focus, away from the work that must be done but I will because it is my hope that the beauty is where changes will happen and trickle down.
Many wonderful things are happening in Lagos or at least that will in the very near future in the art/fashion sector.
The bookshops, the lounges, the beautiful spaces, the likeminded, beautiful, creative people makes it all easier to digest.
I visited Jazz hole, a wonderful bookstore and cafe that stocks Pop’ Africana, a must if you are in Lagos.
The designers, old and new, are forging distinctive identities.
There is an exodus of abroad schooled and trained young folks who are coming back to start up small projects and businesses, a good look for easier transitions. I can’t live without a café or a bookstore for example.
These are not the only changes we need of course, but I am designed to support ideas, I just wish they leaned more towards the development of communities and education or healthcare.
We are an important land in Africa with brilliant people rich in ideas and resources- why aren’t changes happening quickly enough?
How can Nigeria be saved? What must we do? When? How?
Please get involved.
It’s not just fashion, music, sports that will save us, we must roll our sleeves up and work, fight and be prepared to die for what we know is right.
Will we? Can we?
15 year old Awa in Bamako, Mali wants to take the world by storm. Brave ! and of course beautiful.
Photo: Oroma Elewa
I have rebuked this feelings several times, as I am no longer innocent.
My life now face harsh realities
And in love, I have settled for lust, diluted chemistry and unimaginable compromises.
Why do you assure me so?
You say close your eyes and imagine, you say cut fresh flowers and burn sandalwood
You say seat under the rain and feel the tears of the heavens,
You say drink earthly juice squeezed from mangoes and plums.
You say restrain and rebuild.
You say speak gently, softly, thoughtfully or not at all.
Why do your direct me so?
Leading me to believe that this feeling will remain with me because it is yet to be and will be as I have always dreamt.
A few weeks back, a friend put me on to Baloji an artist from the Congo with a sound, video and vibe nothing short of magnetic. The concept of his video, “Karibu ya Bintou” sparked an interest and given that I don’t understand French, I asked Baloji to explain some things particularly, the mask on his album cover, the skeletal outfits in the video and the history of wresting in the Congo. If you have not seen Baloji’s video “
“Baloji means sorcerer in Chiluba and Swahili It’s like a curse, like carrying part of the devil or the bad side of things and you know how sorcery is viewed in Africa. People fear them, fear their powers, fear that they can put bad spirit inothers food and drinks and assumed that they are connected to bad forces.
They call this curse the shadow because it follows its host until it gets what it is asking for ! So I struggled with my name for years before asking my mother why she chose this name. She explains it was to pay hommage to an uncle who had the same name and saved the life of my very own father….so in the same sense, sorcerers can also save people to contrary belief and that is what the poet is talking about in the intro of karibu vidéo.
The mask in the vidéo is part of this fétish Africans have with sorcery.
The album cover is also referenced to the mask. It has a Persian motifs and looks Mexican but it is really inspired by the Congolese art forms. ( more on this in Pop’Africana )
Congo has a tradition of wrestlers based on the US WWF(WWE) but with an African twist which is so because of the religious and mystical aspect to it. Think of it as the (dragon ball meets hulk hogan and the street fighters video game characters)
So the vidéo is telling my story- of how I am going into Kinshasa, coming out of the lake city center saying we make visible the mask everybody is wearing by hiding.
The second aspect of the video is where the wrestlers were preparing in the morning of the fight by using rituals and going in the street at noon with their trucks and fanfares to inform the city that there will have a match at 4 o’clock ! describes the energy and excitement of Kinshasa
I wanted this vidéo to describe Kinshasa as I see it « a madmax décor/backdrop »
It’s frentic and chaotic! Nothing is predictable or under control, the justice is lost in their own mess but people have such amazing strength that they keep on fighting even if nothing works. It’s like they keep on trying to prétend that nothing happened since the end of the Zaire regime, that the situation is manageable.
Kinshasa is wild and on the other end it keeps waiting for help like a motherless child.
More of this conversation and Baloji’s explanations in the coming issue of Pop’Africana.
Watch video
Oroma Elewa here, a native girl in New York City, with random thoughts of an African child.
stay tuned!