Stephanie Hegarty a BBC correspondence who was covering for the news outfit in here Nigeria, departed the country today. She penned down this beautiful poem for Nigeria and Nigerians.
Nigeria mo chroi. (A poem... kind of)
There will be never be anything like you.
This city Lagos, that took me in and tucked me deep
In its wild soul.
Nothing like the wahala and its best friend, camaraderie
Sharing the struggle of traffic and gens and terrible roads.
Though some of us much less than others...
To the fiery fuse of Lagosians
And every shouting match I witnessed on your streets
AND the plenty I took part in.
Ok, started...
To the many who said “Welcome”,
even though they saw me every day
for two and a half years. I’ll miss you
and the short, sharp expulsion of air
from deep in the lungs of a Lagos street
that followed me everywhere “Oyinbo!”
And the akara lady on the corner,
who saw my “fine” dog taking a stroll with my friend Niyi
and shouted, “Dog, where your oyinbo?”
To the flight nearly missed because two men
locked in the middle of an intersection in a battle of ego,
refused to budge.
Until my taxi driver said get out and beg them. It worked.
And the many flights not missed
because a late arrival rescued this late passenger.
The endless conversations about food.
And the tragedy, that after two and a half years in Nigeria
I’m cursed, never again to enjoy food that doesn’t taste
Like fire.
I’ll miss the grin of “Happy Weekend”.
Or “Madammmmm, turn your hand."
of plenty men eager to help me park,
each with diametrically opposed ideas of how to do it.
And every Uber driver who took the trip
but didn’t show up
because he didn’t like where I was going.
And even the hours, days and weeks spent
hounding government ministries
for documents, information, permissions.
When all along I should have known,
they had no light.
Magnificent waterfalls, hills above the clouds
long lines of cattle on pink sunset hills.
The clambering, choking green of the bush,
as it creeps up tall palms.
And the dusty deep ochre north.
All this beauty so hard to reach
because roads begin and end, with no middle.
I’ll miss late night chats by the guard house with Mohamed
about the wonders of the earths ecosystems.
Trying to describe what snow is like
in mediocre Pidgin.
And Light, oh Light. I could dedicate an entire ode
to the joyful sound of the siren
triumphantly announcing the return of Nepa.
Kanye said, the most beautiful things sit next to the darkest.
Naija, I’ll miss you. 💚
Credit: STEPANIE HEGARTY TWITTER HANDLE
