Table of Contents
Between Two Worlds: A Soul’s Journey from Lagos to a Foreign Land
My spirit feels restless, unable to settle as my soul drifts far away, wandering the vibrant streets of Lagos. Just hours ago, it was swinging through the bustling Isale Eko markets, much like a jungle explorer, admiring the colorful stalls and lively scenes. Now, it roams aimlessly, observing quietly from the shadows.
A Conversation with Myself
“What kind of trouble is this? What exactly are you searching for?” I muttered sharply, casting a wary glance at my own soul. In response, it turned with a mischievous grin, mouthing words before striding off confidently: “You can sit here pretending all you want, but you know what I truly need.”
As I sat by the window, clutching my mug, I suddenly realized the drink had gone cold. “How did this happen?” I exclaimed in frustration. Moments ago, the cappuccino was piping hot-so hot it singed my tongue and fogged my glasses. Now, all that remained was a lukewarm cup, devoid of the comforting warmth I craved.
The Price of Comfort
“So this is it? My £4.50 wasted on a drink I haven’t even finished,” I pondered, peering into the empty cup. Meanwhile, a sharp ache in my leg reminded me of the cold seeping deep into my bones, urging me to act. I rose, determined to buy another-perhaps a latte sprinkled with cinnamon this time.
As I joined the queue, a familiar voice teased me, “Why throw money away? You know you won’t enjoy that latte any more than the last.”
“Ah, you’re back! Did you find satisfaction in your pepper soup? And where did you get it from?” I asked, intrigued.
“From that little eatery at Idejo we sometimes visit. I had yam pepper soup, and you should have smelled the aroma. Here, smell my hands…”
I swatted her hands away just as the barista called my order. Returning to my seat with the new drink, I laughed quietly, quickly stifling it before anyone thought I’d lost my mind.
Longing for Familiar Flavors
“What’s so funny?” my soul pressed.
“This whole situation. Spending over £10 on coffee and getting no joy. Back in Lagos, the aroma alone would have teased your senses long before the pepper soup arrived.”
“Exactly! By the time your food gets to the table, you’re already salivating. You might even be eyeing another customer’s meal.”
“Customer? Must you always use fancy words?”
“Alright, what’s another word for customer?”
“Another customer. Let’s keep it simple-we’re in Naija, after all.”
I glanced outside at the dull, grey sky. “Naija, huh?”
“Yes, it’s just you and me here. The body is present, but our souls are already in Lagos, savoring pepper soup.”
“You and who? Didn’t you already have your yam pepper soup? Why come back so soon?” I asked, sipping the foamy latte.
“If I hadn’t returned by now, you’d have caused a scene. Paramedics would be trying to revive you.”
“You mean I would have been…?”
“Exactly. Without the soul, the spirit just returns home, and they’d carry the body away.”
“I’m really not in the mood for your dramatics. Just leave me be,” I muttered.
“Ha! And waste money on a drink that brings no joy? When you could have joined me in Lasgidi for real food?”
Reflections on Displacement and Desire
Removing my glasses, I stared out the window, lost in thought. What am I doing here, in this unfamiliar place where the sun is shy and the sky more grey than blue? How did I end up so far from home?
A soft cough and a gentle movement brought me back. My soul sat across from me, chin resting on folded hands, eyes locked on mine.
“Are you alright?” she whispered, reaching out to hold my arms.
“No,” I admitted quietly.
“Ogini?” she asked, her gaze penetrating as she caressed my hand.
“I’d give anything for a hot bowl of point and kill from that woman at Ògbà right now.”
“Let’s go home,” she said, standing and pulling me into a warm embrace.
