Do you remember the first kiss you truly enjoyed? Or the first time your crush told you they liked you? Remember how excited you were? That I-want-to-scream-out-loud-but-must-control-myself giddy feeling you had?
Now with those emotions rushing back, picture Lagos during the holidays. Yes, that is the excitement it holds, mixed with the sweet-sour smell of oud and sweat. Lagos shines brightest at the end of the year. This time, the rhythmic heartbeat of the city is faster with intent.
Children run through the streets half naked, throwing bangers and fireworks that threaten to deafen chaperoning adults. The newly returned complain about the heat and traffic as though words could do anything to change it. Beggars wear their Sunday best, hoping to attract rich givers, while lovers stroll the streets with hands interwoven. The fastest fingers that bought tickets early attend every show, keeping the city awake till daybreak. The holiday season in Lagos is chaos at its finest.
Here is my bulletproof plan for surviving Detty December β the Yoruba girl edition. This year, I will be reading the Bible because its stories tickle my imagination. I also hope that God will manufacture my husband if I read His word more. Religion is an essential part of our holidays in Nigeria. When I am not reading the Bible, I will bury myself in African literature so that I can travel with other writers into the worlds they have created.
As always, I hope to stuff my face with pounded yam, vegetable and bush meat in the morning; rice soaked in palm oil and dry fish in the afternoon, and amala at night a dough-like dish made from yam, unripe plantain flour or cassava flour. On days when I have less appetite, I will begin with akara and pap fried bean cakes with fermented corn starch ; followed by French fries with sauce, and jollof rice served with smoked goat for dinner with lots of pepper and Hausa spices.
