Issue 17: Hey, I’m The One Smiling at You from the Shop.
In Bop Daddy’s car, Party No Dey Stop is playing out loud. It is Friday. The time is 7 pm and we are going to the club.
In Yeni’s car, Party No Dey Stop is playing out loud. It is Friday. The time is 7 pm and we are going to the club. The good rich aunty of Lagos, Lase, has invited the birthday boy to the birthday bash and we, friends of the birthday boy are going to crash the party. I am seated in front, as usual. I am that friend that will always sit in front when we order a group ride or just enter anyone’s car. Unless the owner of the car says otherwise, you’ll find me in the front seat. So I’m seated in front, controlling the music and thinking about what Baby said to me the day before.
The day before, Baby (her name is Baby) calls. I’m in a meeting but it is Baby so I pick it up and say, Hey, I’m in a meeting. Is it urgent? She says no so I tell her I’ll call her back and I get back to the meeting. Later that night, I call her back and after the pleasantries, she tells me two interesting things happened to her lately. What happened? I asked. So she begins like this,
‘Oriade, you won’t believe what happened to me last week. So I’m in class reading your blog and then this guy from the back, who has been watching me, asks me how I know Michael Inioluwa. I tell him and he says he knows you from UJCM. He was one of the action committee members while you were the action committee chairman.’
I say, Is it so and so, and she says yes, he’s the one. And I just burst out laughing. UJCM? Action committee? That was 2019, four years ago.
The second thing that happened: she was going on an excursion with her classmates. While on the bus, they’re all arguing about which is better, Ife or Ogbomoso. Then one of them says Ogbomoso and Ife are towns, not cities.
‘And then he quotes you,’ Baby says.
I hold my phone to my ear and say, ‘He does what?’
‘He quotes you. He says Michael Inioluwa wrote in his newsletter that Ogbomoso is a town and that Ife is a town too.’
I burst out laughing. Somewhere in Oduduwa’s yard, someone is quoting me for saying Ogbomoso and Ife are towns, not cities. I don’t know what to say so I just keep laughing as Baby narrates all these rather interesting stories. I had to go back and check where I must have mentioned the Ogbomoso and Ife thing. I found it in Issue 15. For context, I did say Ogbomoso and Ife were towns compared to Lagos.
Anytime I remember Baby telling me these two things; the guy who knows me from UJCM and the guy quoting me on their bus, I laugh. Writing is the most amazing thing ever.
Last year October or so - I’m not so sure now - my neighbor calls to ask if I want pure water. I am as confused as you are reading this so I ask her what she means. She doesn’t answer. She simply drops about four bags of pure water at my door.
Are you traveling? I ask
No, I’m moving out.
Oh wow…where to? Island?
No, I’m moving out of the country.
Oh..you’re moving OUT.
I often tell this joke to people who visit me and ask if I have neighbors. I tell them my neighbor told me she was moving out by dropping bags of pure water at my door. I find it hilarious.
Before my neighbor moved out, she once asked about Moremi. I was confused. I did not tell her about Moremi so how did she know about the feline criminal?
How do you know I have a cat?
I see your WhatsApp status, Michael. And I’m reading your blog. From the beginning.
And then I laugh because then again, for someone who claims to live a private life, fragments of my life are littered across the world wide web.
Two days ago, I was - as sons of Oduduwa will say - catching fresh air at Mummy Sade’s shop. A girl comes around to buy something. She is smiling at me so I smile back. I have learned this from one of my most admired Nigerian writers, Elnathan John. He wrote in this thread that cities don’t have to be hostile and we can begin to ‘de-hostile’ cities by simply smiling. And as someone who came from Ogbomoso, where you greet random people as you pass on the streets, to Lagos, where everyone thinks you’re trying to rob them, I agree with Elnathan John. Cities don’t have to be hostile.
So the girl smiles at me and I smile back. It is a very awkward two minutes of both of us smiling at each other while Mummy Sade looks for whatever it is this girl has come to buy. She keeps smiling at me and as a dedicated follower of Elnathan John’s Anti-City-Hostility rulebook, I smile back. After a while, she covers her mouth with her hand but I keep smiling at her. Then Mummy Sade finds what she is looking for but the girl lingers, smiling.
You did not bring cake for me o, Mummy Sade is saying to the girl.
Mummy has taken everything to her shop, the girl says.
When is your own birthday so you can bring my cake, Mummy Sade says.
July.
Shey you will be sixteen now abi?
The girl shakes her head and says she will be seventeen, all the while smiling like a sheep.
Okay o. Help me say happy birthday to mummy. Oya be going.
The smiling girl waves at me. I wave back and then she leaves. Then, I stop smiling.
Don’t mind her, Mummy Sade is saying. She is not okay like that.
What do you mean? I ask.
She has like, skor skor.
Oh.
When I get home, there’s an Instagram DM waiting for me. I check and it reads,
Hey, I’m the one smiling at you from the shop. I followed you here from your blog. We live on the same street How?!!!
I reply her with three laughing emojis and then say, hi with six exclamation marks because God forbid I do not match the energy of the smiling girl. Then I remember Mummy Sade said she has skor skor so I check her profile. Her picture is a monochrome version of the same face that was smiling at me some minutes ago. She has no pictures, no reels, and no tags. She has no story. Her bio reads, ‘living. breathing. 16 y/o living w autism. cancer. be kind.’
This week, I’m sharing an essay by Maggie Smith. Last week, I discovered Archivi.ng and from Archivi.ng I discovered Fuad and from Fuad, I discovered this essay. After reading it, I sent it to Baby immediately and screamed in her DM: Wake up! I like this essay because it shows how, even though our life moves on, the internet does not. In the essay, Maggie talks about how, weeks after her husband moved out after a 19-year-old relationship, Google Maps still places him in her house.
To read this essay called Tracking the Demise of My Marriage on Google Maps, click here.
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PS: Just in case you’re wondering, this post was shared with the smiling girl’s permission.
Happy Monday-that-is-a-public-holiday! 🎉
That’s the beauty of writing; we connect with people we don’t even know and they connect deeply with us too
The part where you were confused at how she knew you had a cat is so relatable. People say the random-est things to me and I am usually surprised at how they know that much about me until I remember that I made 7 whatsapp status slides about it