Looku Looku

I look at these people and I want what they have, what they so unabashedly stand for and display.

This week’s guest,'Dolapomoye has recently begun to call herself a writer after many years of calling herself 'just a lover of books'. In deference, she now writes Dolapo's Attempts at C.S. Lewising. You can find her here and here on Instagram.

In the past few weeks, I have criminally stared at people outside the window of a moving car. 'Criminally' because I am aware of how much of a nuisance one could be if they did this to people in close quarters. As I was ensconced in the back seat of the vehicles that took me to my various destinations, I stared at every woman, every man, every boy, and every girl: the houses, the stalls, and even the other vehicles on the road. I stared and stared until my rides came to an end and the drivers turned to me to announce my fare. Like that trend on TikTok and IG goes, my hands would be held behind me as I am pronounced guilty, for most likely making people feel uncomfortable with my long stares.

For context, all the staring was done during my trip to Lagos. As someone who was born and grew up in Northern Nigeria synonymous with conservatism, I found every single thing about this city fascinating. From the weirdly contorted and brightly yellow buses to the palpable exuberance of passersby, the place that I grew up in, is in many ways different. So different and so akin to boredom, almost like it is on the extreme end of a 'City Craziness Spectrum'.

The thing about living in a place on the opposite end of that spectrum is that it in its own way, forms you, moulds you. It does this so much that as you get older, and your dreams and hopes begin to gain shape, you consider that maybe, just maybe there is more to you than this quiet city can accommodate, can afford. This more exuberant side to you wrestles with the quieter side, leaving you bemused and wondering where the right soil for this buddening you, is.

On this trip, one of my goals was to attend the Ake Book and Arts Festival. For years, I had longed to attend it and look my favourite writers in the eye. It is the kind of trip that one is certain that their life will change in, just because they are so physically close to this thing that they so desire. And so, being in the same room as not just my favorite writers, but also people who share a similar desire as mine, had me wanting so much more out of my current life. It had me thinking, and leaning and staring more and more at the people who had been shaped and morphed by this glorious city. How they moved with an audacity to dream big, and how that was new to me. I thought of how this city, though smaller than mine, had the capacity to accommodate all of these, and even offer visitors like me a taste of that audacity, that boldness, that freedom.

In all these rides within the city, my phone battery is full. I text a few people sending them my location so they know I'm safe, and I confirm that the routes that the drivers are taking are clear and accurate as the map has said. It is in between this that I do my staring. As I do it, I wonder how I could possibly fit in here. Not just this specific geographical location that is Lagos, but a place that is loud and bold and free. Maybe the location is in my mind, maybe it is even within my city. But I look at these people and I want what they have, what they so unabashedly stand for and display. Colour me guilty, not for staring, but for coveting. Only this time, even if I am arrested, I will get what is coveted. I too, will be loud and bold and free.

---

We have come to the end of the guest writing. I want to thank everyone who participated and agreed to share a piece of their world with me and my community. Thank you. Truly.

We have two entries left for the year. One is a life update and the last is well, a conclusion. It’s been quite a ride and because I am dramatic, we will end how we began.

See you soon.