Sunday night, the time is 12 a.m., and I am in Elegushi beach, standing on the shore, the crashing waves racing towards me and sweeping the sand beneath my feet. It is cold, windy, and as the water redraws I close my eyes, praying God sends it back to me. I am tempted to follow it, run into the tidal waves. I am tempted to drown.
"Malachi! Malachi, come back!" says Rebecca, a friend to one of my hostel mates, Geoffrey.
Earlier in the day Geoffrey had asked kindly that I accompany him to see Rebecca, who lives not too far from Elegushi beach. We arrive Rebecca's place, and it's all warmth and laughter. Rebecca hasn't seen Geoffrey in eight years, since secondary school, so the elation is expected.
Rebecca brings Bazooka, a 45percent alcoholic drink, and we mix it with Coca Cola, drinking, laughing, and feeling woozy. When the day is far spent, Rebecca calls a friend, who she says will be coming with kush. I don't know what kush is, so, when I ask, Rebecca thinks I'm pretending. She laughs, and laughs, and laughs, then, calming down, says it's kinda higher than weed, that the effect kush has is that it takes you to a realm where you start to feel everything, your senses are heightened and the world starts to look colourful.
The kush arrives and Rebecca, Geoffrey, Cynthia(Rebecca's friend), and Winston(Cynthia's friend), start smoking.
Winston has a car, so he opens the doors and the music blasting through the speakers is electrifying.
"...abeg make you treat me with caution
Leg Over
My baby gimme leg over ahn ahn
Hang Over
E be she dey gimme hang over eh eh
Leg Over
My mama give me leg over eh eh
game over..."
Geoffrey says it's impossible that I'd have more fun than they are, right now. "Look over there," he says, pointing in the distance. "What do you see?"
In the distance, there are huts with multicoloured bulbs everywhere, so I say, "I can see huts, with colourful bulbs."
"Nooo. You see!" he says. "To us, that is Las Vegas."
Geoffrey starts towards the ocean, his eyes are two, tiny seeds beaten by booze and kush; I'm afraid the waves would take him away so I yell, "Geoffrey! Come back o!" I race towards him and he says, "No fear. Let's play a game. We'd move very close to the water, and when it starts coming towards us we'd run back."
"Okay."
Back and forth Geoffrey and I run. The wind is our pal. It kisses us so softly we are happy. Reaching closer and closer into the water, Rebecca, Cynthia, and Winston, fearing for our safety, call us back, and we return.
"It's getting late. We should start heading back to Surulere," I say to Geoffrey.
Geoffrey kisses Cynthia on the cheek. Cynthia looks as if she'd like Geoffrey to spend the night, and if that is what Geoffrey wants, I don't mind going to Surulere by myself so I imply it with a wicked grin at Geoffrey. Cynthia books us a cab, using Taxify. "It's way cheaper than Uber," she says, and we head back to Surulere.
On our way home, Geoffrey's mouth is wide awake as he bops his head forward, throws it to the side - in my direction, and slumps it. He is sleeping. I look at him and start to wonder what the kush must be doing. Does he think we're on a plane, right now? Does he know what is happening? Or is he in heaven?
We arrive the hostel and Geoffrey jumps the gate. "Aren't you coming?" he says.
"My jeans is too tight. And with the noise the gate just made, I'd hate to wake people up. Just call the gate man for me, abeg."
The gate-man, Diwa, as he unlocks the gate, sleepy-eyed, looks at us with reproach, saying, "You guys know we lock this gate by ten. It's the rule. Why you're breaking it, I don't understand."
"Sorry, no vex," Geoffrey and I respond, simultaneously.
On our way to our bedrooms, Geoffrey says, "I just dey respect Diwa, if not, how hin go tell grown ass adults like us wetin to do?"
"E don do, Geoffrey, abeg. Make we go crash. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, bro."
Tuesday, 6 :30 p.m., I have ingested sadness. Lying in bed I call my best friend and say to him between sobs, "Tolu, I'm not sure coming to Lagos was the right thing to do."
"What's wrong," he says. "Are you crying?"
And I say, "I don't know. I broke down in school, today. I had a major outburst, and I feel terrible."
"What happened?"
"You see, the thing is, I've been working on making the most of the time I have in Lagos, writing scripts I hope would be adapted to screenplay--because I'm scared of going back to Abuja a failure--so it has caused me many late nights. Today was just a repercussion of not giving myself adequate rest. My Liberian friend, who'd told me he'd be in the hostel while we were in class today, burst into class, in the midst of everyone, yelling at me, saying, 'Why did you tell Anah you don't know where I am?! I told you I'd be at the hostel!' And at that instant I lost it. I stood up and yelled back, saying, 'What is wrong with you?! Can't you tell I've been under a lot of stress, and if someone asks after you it's only likely that I'd forget to accord them the appropriate response?'"
I am the news today. "Malachi, got angry, today! Sweet Malachi had an episode, today, and while at it, spoke the Queen's English." I want to bury my head in sand.
9 p.m., same day, a meeting is called in the living-room.
"It has come to my notice that some two persons jumped the fence, last night," says the hostel warden. "The neighbours complained, and I'm afraid that if the school authority come to hear of it, they wouldn't mind refunding the fees they paid and asking them to go home."
Geoffrey, standing and leaning against the wall, has his eyes in the ceiling, brimming with rage at the idea that Diwa, the gate man, betrayed us.
Beside many things the issue of the gas cooker is tabled, and Diwa gets blamed for exhausting it. Telena says Diwa doesn't knock when he comes to her room to turn off the air conditioner. "He just barges in like it's his house and, yesterday was the last straw. He came in with the technician who was going to fix the A.C. I was in my towel, I complained, and he told the technician to 'continue work jare'. That was when I snapped and asked him to leave my room."
Diwa can't handle the ridicule. His ego is bruised, so he leaves the sitting room, and there is a raucous. Fiona, another house-mate, says if Diwa doesn't come back to the living-room, she would never attend any of the house-meetings. Diwa comes back, beefs are squashed, and we call it a night.
In the middle of the night, staring at the mosquitoes perched on my skin, my Liberian room-mate wakes up and says, "Malachi, you haven't slept?" and I say, "I can't - the mosquitoes," and he goes, "Me, too. Plus, the heat in this room... Malachi, I'm sorry about yesterday." I accept his apology, and in return apologise, and the misunderstanding is put behind us. We leave for the living-room, pressing our phones in the darkness.
Morning of Wednesday, while the lecture is on-going, I start to think of the tidal waves in Elegushi, the sharks that probably live in the ocean, and how sad but uplifting it would be to be set free by them.