The evening was just like every other regular evening. The streets of Abuja were still quite busy like it was barely evening. My apartment happens to be on the third floor of a yellow building somewhere in Lugbe. From my window I had quite a view of the city.
Unexpectedly, the lights just went out.
Some of the neighbours began to hiss, some sighed in disappointment. Some even began to rain curses while some just laughed casually because it was something we could expect at anytime. Everywhere was dark now, apart from the light coming from a motorcycle headlamp or the light from the phone screens of the neighbours.
"NEPA well done o!" one of the neighbours at the courtyard said sarcastically. It was Jerry, the comedian of the compound.
"It won't take long before we start hearing the sound of generator," another voice from the back followed.
I was just smiling. It was one of those times we seized the opportunity of power outage to bond. More people began to step outside to receive the cool evening breeze and engage in conversations. After standing at a distance and staring at them, I decided to join them.
Almost half of the compound was out. I could see Mama Janet, the elderly woman that sold provisions downstairs. She had a piece of cardboard in her hand which she used to fan herself. Beside her was her daughter Rita, with her phone in her hand which she scrolled through mercilessly despite the critical state of the battery.
Jerry already had some neighbours clustering around him as he told them some story which they laughed to intermittently. That's just how Jerry is, always having a story to tell.
I walked towards where Rita was and saw an empty stool beside her which I sat on. Some neighbours already started turning on their generators.
Rita looked at me and smiled. "I see you came out too," she said.
"Didn't have a choice," I replied. "My room is like an oven. Really hot in there."
She laughed.
For the next few minutes we were just talking about work and stuff.
After about half an hour or so, I began to hear drops of rain land of the zinc in the compound.
"Here comes this rain," Mama Janet muttered. "I don't need this spoiling my stock tomorrow.
Within minutes, it became serious. People began to make their way to the balconies, some to the doorways. I remained where I was. My shirt was already soaked. Rita stayed back too. Instead of running inside she just spread her arms apart and allowed the rain to soak her.
"This girl. Are you not afraid if getting sick?" I asked.
"As long as I can survive this country, I'm pretty sure I can survive this little rain."
I laughed.
After some minutes, the rain gradually began to ease. Some of the neighbours began to retreat for their rooms. Even the storyteller Jerry made his way to his apartment, which made the compound more quiet and empty now.
"You ever thought of leaving?" Rita asked suddenly.
"I do think about it sometimes," I replied. But somehow I always find my way back here. Like I wasn't meant to live or maybe it's not time yet. What about you?"
She smiled. "I've thought about it as well. Maybe somewhere like Canada. But then I thought, half of my life is around here. What am I without them if I move out of here?"
We were both in silence the next couple of minutes, both lost in thought. After sometime Rita relaxed against the wall and took a deep sigh. She then turned to me. "I don't know if you've noticed," she said, "how different the city seems without light? It just...seems different, you know."
I nodded. I could still here the hum of distant traffic and some murmurs from nearby. Hours passed. Gradually, people retreated back to their houses. Mama Janet went on to lock up her shop. The laughter began to die down gradually. The generators began being switched off one after the other. Rita stood up and flung her hair backwards to splash out the droplets of water that had settled on top of it.
"I should get some sleep," she said.
"Yeah," I replied, though I had no intention of going in just yet.
She took some steps up the stairs, then turned back and gave me a wave, then continued going up.
Minutes later, the power returned.
Jubilations arose from the courtyard. The bulbs in the apartments and outside lit up the whole place. Soon, the TVs were put on and the neighbors tuned to their favorite tv channels.
But for me, I remained at the spot I was.
It amazed me how all the laughter, the conversation, and the shared humanity only came to be as a result of the blackout. Now with the power on, everything was hit to reset. Everyone went back to their spaces.
I finally got up, and squeezed the much water I could from my shirt, and headed for my apartment. When I got in I didn't even bother putting the light on. What I did instead was sit by the window looking down the streets. In that moment, I came to realize something.
The beauty of Abuja wasn't really about in the lights. The real beauty was derived from what the people became when when a blackout occur.
