Preordained #ProjectNigeria

34- Getting There

I look at my wristwatch. I'm already running late for the family gathering my parents are hosting at home. It's like an outdoor barbecue, with my siblings and their own families in attendance. I'd been planning to take Nwanyieze along, but now that she most definitely does not want to look at me for the mean time, I have to go alone.

"I have to leave now. Where are you going to? Did you drive over? I could drop you on my way."

"I drove myself. Thanks for the offer, Mads. And thanks for the advice and for being a good friend."

"By the way, here's your underwear." I hand her the offending garment in a small red paper bag; quite fitting if you asked me. She takes it with her eyes on the floor.

"Thank you."

I almost say, "Anytime," but instead change it to "That's alright."

Exes and friendship. A complicated duo.

I watch her get into her car, a flashy,bright red Hyundai she parked outside my gates. She waves at me, I wave back, and she drives off.

That's settled, then, I think.

The drive to Anthony Village is smooth, the roads are not that filled up. Danfo buses crammed with colourfully dressed women in their owambe aso ebi dominate the road today; countless ceremonies go on in Lagos on Saturdays. Along the roads, women strut like peacocks, their artfully tied geles stiffly moving in the breeze. Different shades of oranges, blues, yellows, greens, and other colours are visible amongst the pedestrians. Loud music is heard from vehicles, stalls, churches and the people themselves, mixed with the sounds of engines on the road.

This is why I love Lagos. The life, the diversity, the buzz all come together to beat as one. It is more like a paradox to me; how different everyone seems but all come together to make the city what it is. I picture myself with Nwanyieze, strolling through the local markets and eating locally made delicacies. We are laughing, and she feeds me from her own moi-moi leaf. The image fades and another replaces it: both of us dressed for date night, with her in a sleek, fancy dress. The image fades yet again, to me slowly getting her out of that dress...

There you go again, Joseph, I mock myself.

Everyone is in attendance by the time I arrive. Somto's children sound my arrival after my mother opens the front door.

"Uncle Kaka!" Prince yells before squeezing himself between Mum and I, not bothering that he is interrupting our hug.

My mother's hug warms me. She smells of raw shea butter and her beloved J'adore perfume, the one that Dad always gets her on his trips abroad.

"I thought you weren't coming," she says while Prince tries to climb up my body like I'm a tree.

I let him, knowing that my white shirt will have to be bleached soon.

"How could I miss this?"

"Unclllllllllle," Prince demands my attention. I pull him up into my arms.

"Kaka!" comes the familiar squeal. Noel appears, running at full steam on her chubby little legs. She is wearing only diapers. When I lift her up and hold her close, I notice she smells faintly of ketchup.

Both of them start to talk at once; and I find it difficult to understand and reply.

"A sign that you're ready for fatherhood." Mum winks and walks away.

"I'll run away oh," I call after her.

In the backyard, I find my siblings, their spouses, and offspring all in attendance. There are at least nine children under the age of sixteen in attendance. The oldest, Amara's daughter Alice, is fifteen years old; a tall, slender teenager with freckles on her face and hazel eyes, courtesy of her English father. She runs over to me, yelling, "Uncle Kaka is here, everybody!"