Lagos

Pop.
The fan whirrs slower, slower; the metal sounds flimsy as lifeblood drains from wires and momentum dies.
I open my eyes as little as possible pretending that I am still asleep and unaware that the power is gone. . .again.
The sun shines bright yellow through the lower panel of our east facing window.  Slowly its devastating heat will hit all the panels and sweat will seep out of our pores attempting transcendence.  Somehow this loss of moisture intensifies immobility as if water has been neutralizing stickiness.  All movement feels like walking against a strong current in a large hot tub placed in the middle of a forest fire.
It is still early, but the north window brings the hum of morning to my ears.  The go-slows and horns haven't begun and no one has come outside to start their generators to counter the power outage, but people are moving about preparing for the day on the street below the apartment. The clink of metal on metal, the timbre of laughter and language I can't quite hear but likely couldn't understand anyway. Trees rustle in the breeze, an unfamiliar species of bird sings a tune.
At the end of the bed, he is already awake. His skin reflects some of the bright yellow filtering in through the window to his right. Shining.  His phone is at his ear and Igbo pours from his lips like water rushing over rocky rapids. A few words jump from the stream of sound carried by the power of recognition. They sound warm, like memories of my terrible pronunciation and his laughter, that accompany them. What he has not taught me, I can guess. Something in the tone or timbre, the turning of his hand in a particular way paired with pillow conversations the night before gives me all the information I need. He doesn't notice that I'm awake yet.

Ogba, Lagos

I watch for a few minutes and then turn towards the north facing window. The sounds of this morning surround me and I let all of them penetrate deeply into my ears, trying to hear all simultaneously. There is a hot, heavy feeling in the middle of my abdomen that will likely be a problem for later. Now though, I embrace this symphony and smile a morning greeting to Lagos.

The sound. Part II

for us, it was easy to leave for the sound. there wasn't much else that was left. We had been through the great war, much greater than any before it. some had seen it coming long before the hard times hit.  most of us hadn't expected it to come so swiftly or as all-encompassing as it did. We didn't see it coming at all really. Not in this lifetime. Not for this generation. but at the same time there were warning signs everywhere. small groups had always been talking about it, the marginalized, the outliers, the artists. few people took them seriously. few people paid attention to all those things. most people had their own lives to attend to, their families, houses, their investments, protecting their own interests.  even as other places began to fall into frenzy, we thought somehow we would be immune.  it would never touch us.  it couldn't.  it never had before.
no one had time to look around, fact find, put the pieces of a very intricate puzzle together. and it was a very very intricate puzzle as any event is looking back on it. The time, the history, the cultural practices, the politics, progress, people. all of them come together at key moments to change the course of history. Whether it's better or worse depends on where you stood along the line and where you stand now. If you were the sun looking down and passing judgment, it'd probably just be business as usual.
Life as we knew it previously, no matter who you were, had changed drastically. Most of the survivors were still shell shocked from everything they had lost and the short period in which it happened. Some, the ones who had come from having very little to begin with, were quick to recover, at least mentally. They were used to uncertainty, used to loss. Comfort and stability were merely guests; never staying long but welcome none-the-less. They had already accepted the fickle ways of these guests and learned not to get too used to them.
They were the fortunate ones now. They were the teachers the light and laughter and leaders for all of us. That's not to say that they hadn't lost.  They too had lost many loved ones but their struggles had made them stronger, somehow.  They were able to overcome more easily.  They often lost patience with those who mourned for the past, but without their undying hopefulness and ability to let go of what is lost, we surely never would have started on our journey towards the great sound.  there was nothing we could do about what happened.  what was gone, was gone.  there was nothing left to stay for.  everything we once knew needed to be overthrown now, in the interest of survival.  Once we realized that, it was easy to leave.

the sound. part I

the sound. part 1

it started with the sound.  flocking to hear, we came from all directions.  our first chance at a new experience.  finally, something that would take us back to inexperience.  the prospect of something so profound, it would unravel everything; would shake the very foundation that we've built everything on.
some of us were terrified and unable to believe the hearsay, unable to admit that we had misunderstood and followed a lie blindly until the end.  not only followed, but believed whole heartedly in what could now be revealed as a blatant lie.  it was understandable though.  there was a lot to gain from the propagators of the lie and they knew it. . .they had many people convinced. they were excellent marketers.
others smiled knowingly.  this is what they had been waiting for all along.  they knew, somewhere deep within themselves that this would happen.  something, finally to lead them out of the horrible lives they were living.  they knew that their lives weren't meant to be lived like this.  that there must be a higher purpose for them, that they just needed to wait for that moment to come along and be ready. . .and here it was.  yet, they too felt uneasy. . .as they looked around, seeing everyone from all different directions, those who they had thought were enemies, evil, unworthy. . .all headed in the same direction, some with the same smile as themselves. . . .they began to wonder if perhaps they too had reason to fear.
others still were resistant. they didn't believe; couldn't believe. everyone flocking to a sound.  what could something as simple as a sound possibly do to bring people together as they had heard it would do.  it was impossible. so many wars, so much hatred, so much opposition to everything. . .so many differences amongst us and now, out of no where, a sound, of all things, can undo all of it? resistant they were, but equally curious. so, the first step away from resistance was sown when they also left their dwellings and headed for the glorious sound.

the sound. part II