Cha-ching, No Scrubs Allowed

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

This is the first sentence of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen and it pretty much sums up the entire plot. In real terms, the reverse is true. The female characters in the book are concerned with the pursuit and acquisition of “single men in possession of a good fortune”. This was nineteenth-century English society. A single woman's options were quite limited so it would make sense that she would be desperate for a husband that could offer some social advantage.

Isn't it funny that in our own society today, even after the feminist movement, Jane Austen's words still hold true? People are very focused on money. Men have to be be affluent if they ever hope to get married which is why most men have this “I can't get married because I’m not rich” attitude. I am by no means saying that people should not be concerned about finances when looking at a potential life partner but I think people really miss the point of marriage and relationships.

Let's take it out of the context of marriage and talk about the dating scene (boyfriend/girlfriend). I actually feel a little sorry for Nigerian guys. I remember having a conversation with a friend and he was complaining about how he was too broke to afford a girlfriend. I was like "What is this dude talking about?". He went on to explain that there were too many expenses that came with 'toasting' a girl. Money for cinema trips, money for lunch and dinner, money in case she brings her friends, money for fuel to take her on miscellaneous errands and the one that always baffles me...money for her HAIR!

First of all. Who are these women and don't they have jobs? I originally assumed it was just a situation unique to dating a university girl but apparently not. It must be terrible for a brother in this age of 'Brazilian' hair. He's probably looking at spending 77k plus the 3500 it takes to fix the weave. I find it rather unfortunate. Why should my man be saddled with the responsibility of making sure my hair looks hot?

Now on to the car. If you are a Naija guy trying to get a girlfriend and you have no car, my heart goes out to you. Your options are pretty limited. I understand this to a certain extent because of the way Lagos is structured. The transportation system is appalling and getting around is generally frustrating with the traffic and all. Its easier to date a girl if you can pick her up and take her back to her house when your date is over. Ain't nobody tryna get public transport after 10pm! I however do not think that women should use their boyfriend’s car as an on-call taxi service for she and her friends.

So lets say you are dating a girl and you take her out for a meal. It is only in a Nollywood movie that a guy can get away with taking his date to TFC and Mr Biggs. Its going to have to be somewhere swanky and you are paying for the whole shebang...eyah poor you (lol). A guy paying for dinner still makes more sense to me than the hair issue.

I guess the point of all this is simply “Isn't it just polite to offer to pay half the bill when you go out for dinner with a guy?” Or am I the one who is weird? I went out for lunch with a friend last week and although it wasn't a date he paid for the food. Then we got to the cinema and I brought out money to pay for the tickets and he said "what are you doing?!" To which I simply replied "Paying for the tickets". He was impressed that I wanted to pay for something but really, what's there to be impressed by? In my opinion it is just the decent thing to do. Relationships irrespective of whether they are romantic or not should be symbiotic. If the other person insists on paying then fine but it should not be automatically expected. One must not aim to be a ‘taker’ all the time.

Women have more options now and some women earn more money than their male counterparts. I think it gives men permission to treat a woman badly if she is always seen to be asking for financial support especially when you are not even married. Forget about the stay-at-home mom, THAT IS A JOB! But generally if a person is contributing all the money in a marriage then it gives said person the controlling power. Lets say you reach an impasse during a discussion about which school your kid is going to attend or some other important decision, the phrase “Is it your money?’ comes to mind.

Anyway most of these women know there are guys who would never stand for it so they target the mugu who doesn’t mind having a liability on his arm. I think it is pretty selfish for a woman to be dating a guy with the same salary grade and then burden him with the responsibility of paying for everything. If it is an aristo (sugar daddy) situation then yes…I guess that’s what the deal is. I accept that in the Nigerian culture, the man is seen to be the provider and thus responsible for a lot more. A man may feel like he is not a ‘real man’ if his wife is constantly trying to contribute financially. However, some ladies really need to stop taking the piss and pay for your own damn hair!

Please I would really appreciate some feedback on this in case I am the one who needs to get with the programme. Sorry about being MIA for so long.

Disclaimer: To my future husband. You are not allowed to hold this as evidence against me. Your money is OUR money and my money is MY money. I will contribute some and promise not to spend yours on designer handbags. Got it?

This Is Lagos - Part 1

There are a few things you can't not know about, or experience in Lagos:

1. Heavy Traffic: We can never say enough about Lagos traffic. One of the radio stations here asks commuters to call in during rush hour and describe the traffic situation wherever they are. There are different grades: a) 'Bumper to Bumper'. b) 'This go-slow tie wrapper o'. c) (There's also something else that involves witches that I don't quite remember). Anyways, go-slow gat Lagos like white on rice. Now, some may argue that I don't really have a say in traffic discussions, because I live in VI, work in Dolphin, and I'm always going against traffic. Still, I write on behalf of people who have to travel between Magodo and VI, or Ajah and Surulere daily. Not fun. And you may not always 'see' the reason for the hold-up. I think people just plan from home that they''ll drive slowly until they get to one off-ramp, and then pick up the pace after that spot. Oh, and tell me why people don't use their brains when they're driving?! We're on a 2-lane road yeah? One going, one coming. Someone please explain to me why I'll now see people forming a third lane in the middle!!! I mean, I can't blame them, those of us who are 'queueing up' are obviously stupid and don't have a life ambition. Do they not know that both lanes would still have to merge into one??!! Nigerian road users have taught me that common sense is NOT common.



2. Iya Basira: I'm assuming you know the song that goes by this title. If not, take a break, listen/watch here, and then come back (Ok, the video is not fantastic, but you get the gist). One thing I love about Nigeria is that a man who says he can't get anything to eat is definitely not trying. You can get a deliciously satisfying meal of Jollof Rice, Dodo, a cube-sized piece of meat, and a bag of pure water for N100.00. You may be posh and not be the pure water type; you can upgrade. See, I used to think myself posh, and would stop at one of the upscale eateries on Adeola Odeku Street in VI, for a sandwich, everyday. The chicken-slapped-on-two-slices-of-bread-with-tomatoes-lettuce-and-'special'-mayo, started out at N380. I would fill-up with a huge flask of tea and tell myself I had a good breakfast. When it was increased to N420, I told myself it wasn't too bad a price hike, besides that sandwich is the truth. The first time I paid N500 for that thing, was the last time I ate it. It's not like I didn't eat the oh-so-satisfying N50 Agege bread at camp. (I need to stop lying to myself that I'm posh). I understand that with buka situations, people complain about cleanliness of the food, serving areas, servers, etc. You just have to 'survey the land', and make sure you're not eating idoti with your food. I was ordering a piece of chicken at a so-called posh eatery on Akin Adesola Street in VI, when I spied the server licking the mouth of the salad dressing bottle after serving someone from it. Of course, I yelled at him. There goes your clean upscale restaurant. Imagine how many times he's done that crap. And to think I used to order their salad all the time. Maybe that's why I'm not as slim as I'd like - saliva-spiced salad dressing.



3. Area Boys: I grew up in Festac Town, Lagos. During my nursery school years, the school bus picked me from the front of my house and dropped me at the same spot everyday. There was a playground right in front of my house. We went on strolls in the evenings. We did our shopping at Tejuoso market, which was really good then, from what I'm made to understand. I didn't know what the words 'area boy' meant. I lived a suburban life. I remember one time (I was 5 or 6) when my Grandma got us excited about going to the Bar Beach. We tried on our beach shorts, halter tops, and thong sandals everyday, and sang to all our friends about the beach trip we were looking forward to. D-day, Granny drove us to the beach, parked about a mile from the water (Ok, half a mile), and pushed down the locks of the car. We were going to watch the water from the car, because of area boys! I still get mad when I think about it. I never again got to enjoy a beach till I went to Takwa Bay when I was in SS2! Area boys run Lagos. They are the horse trainers at the beach, so you pay them N1000 when you ride the horse. They 'watch' your car when you park at the designated parking spaces of EmberCreek (it doesn't matter that the place hires guards), so you pay them N200. They wash your car windshields even when you don't ask, so you pay them too. In Lagos, monkey/ode/I dey work, baboon dey chop. What baffles me is how they believe they have a right to your money. When the driver picked me up after the salsa class yesterday, the guy who was 'watching' the car (though the driver only got there about 5 minutes before I walked out), called me stingy because I never give them anything. What the ...?! Why don't you find a job punk! Being the nice person that I am, I apologized and said I only had N10.00. He said, 'Oya give me N50'. Obvoiusly, I wasn't communicating.
   
   
   
4. Shopping: I have been decongesting my wardrobe without recongesting. Now, I don't have clothes to wear to work anymore. I can't go to Lagos stores to buy clothes, because I still convert prices on clothes tags to their dollar equivalents when I want to shop. NOTHING will make me pay N15, 000/$100 for a blouse, except I don't plan to wear anything else with it. So, I really haven't done any shopping since I moved back. On my 'New' list I have: 6 pair of shoes, 1 polo shirt, 1 blouse and 1 freakum-dress. Finish. I need to fix that, because... Let's just say I need new clothes. I was recently introduced to the upscale part of Balogun market where you can be sure that the clothes you're buying haven't been worn before. There are also those people who bring stuff in from Yankee and Jand when they travel though. You'll see them lugging suitcases in the trunks of their cars. They help a lot, and they're not very expensive. Another trick - regularly find yourself some very good material, and a very good tailor (all the best with that), and customize your wardrobe with TailorLoRan designs.
   

Tailor-Made

It seems that we’ve approached the age when every single person we have ever met in our entire lives is getting married. We are, of course, happy for them and happy to attend their pre-wedding dinners, engagement lunches, bridal showers, bachelor/bachelerotte parties, traditional engagements and incredibly overblown white weddings. We are more than happy to buy them gifts and put our own jobs and families on hold to help them plan their big day(s). We are thrilled to collect their aso-ebi and celebrate with them in curiously coordinated outfits. (For the uninitiated, "aso-ebi", which literally translates as "family cloth" is fabric distributed by the families of the bride/groom to their guests, who wear them to show solidarity and affiliation). The only problem with said aso-ebi is that, at some point, it must go from raw French lace or simple Ankara to fabulous halter dress or sexy mini-dress . Herein comes a visit to the professional that is dreaded and feared far above any dentist, gynecologist or mortician on the planet; the Nigerian Tailor

If you don’t have war wounds inflicted upon you by a psychotic tailor, you either are not female or you do not live in Lagos. End of story. First of all, there’s the trouble of finding one. You ask your friends because their outfits are generally hip and trendy and mostly well-made. You become alarmed when your friends stop returning your phone-calls and start avoiding you in public. Finally, one of them is kind enough to explain to you that the quickest way to expose yourself as the mannerless, gauche plebeian that you are is to ask another woman who her tailor is. Strike One. You then resort to asking your mother and her friends, but generally the styles that those tailors are capable of are not any that have been seen out in public on the more recent side of 1970. Strike Two. Finally, you decide that you’ll thumb through the pages of the fashion magazines and go with the Designer du Jour. Sure, she might be twice as expensive as anyone that’s been recommended to you thus far, but you’re willing to pay for quality. You are not going to be upstaged at this wedding. Not by anyone. It’s bad enough your dress is going to be made of exactly the same fabric as 665 other guests’ at this shindig.

You get to the designer’s little store on Victoria Island, the front for her mainland operation. Madam is not around (tending to far more important clients, naturally) and her girl will have to take your measurements. Fine, if Madam has put her trust in her, why shouldn’t you? Vamonos! Measurements: taken. Deposit: paid. Fabric: left. All systems go.

You return to the shop two weeks later, as instructed. As a matter of fact, you give them a few days grace period because this is Lagos and things happen and you’re an extremely understanding and benevolent person. The assistant apologizes profusely and tells you that your dress is not ready because the tailor has been taken ill with a violent case of explosive diarrhea, but it’s almost done, please be patient, let him just finish it now now ehn. You are pissed, fuming even, but you figure you’ll sit and wait for it. You make that decision before you spy your fabric, still in its original packaging sitting expectantly in a corner by the wall. That was absolutely the last straw. You call up the designer and are informed by some mysterious character on the phone that she’s off buying fabric in Dubai and won’t be back for another month. It’s just between you and Patience now and she was about to see what happened when you lost all of yours.

You return for your fitting two days later following a sheepish phone-call from Patience. Unfortunately for you, it’s the day of the wedding but you remember observing her as she took your measurements (as you had been warned to do) and she got them just right, so you should be fine. You try on your gorgeous dress -- the one you spent hours and hours poring over seventeen issues of Vogue to find -- and it looks like your favorite part of Old Navy pajamas. The straps are falling off your shoulders, the bust area is pushing your boobs up and flattening your chest at the same time, the sleek pencil skirt is closer to a balloon skirt, the embellishments look like they came off a Christmas tree, the zipper is exposed, the hems are undone, and the dress is not lined. Murphy’s Law is in full effect on your outfit; everything that can go wrong absolutely and most disastrously has.

This monstrosity needs to be taken apart immediately so you grab the tailor by the scruff of his neck and set him to work. He’s clearly still in recovery because he is slow as molasses and by the time your dress has gotten to a state where you would even contemplate wearing it out in polite company, you are receiving calls from your friends on their way home from the wedding, asking if you and the bride are fighting. “If you didn’t want to come to her wedding, why bother taking the aso-ebi in the first place? That’s just really tacky.”

Strike frigging Three.

People spend so much time thinking up catchy names for their hot, new boutiques, but I think every clothes shop in Lagos should be called exactly the same thing; Caveat Emptor. Proceed, dear friends, at your own risk.