#2
Nyanya
What I find most appealing about Abuja is its newness. Unlike other major cities it doesn't have that beat-down look; romantically put, that 'rustic' look. Buildings are well planned and the roads slice through the city in an organized criss-cross. I've never been to the boreal regions where I heard the roads are excellent. In my book Abuja compares only to Calabar.... for now.
But that's in town. I stay in Nyanya (pronounced 'NYANYA') one of the least fragrant parts of Abuja. And that has got nothing to do with the smell. Nyanya is about 20minutes drive from town. It just about straddles the border Abuja shares with Nasarawa state. On a good day Nasarawa is a walking distance from my house. On a bad day I prefer to stay home and blog, read a book or suck on a mango.
Which reminds me, why are Nigerians fond of saying "I want to lick an orange." or "Would you like to lick an orange?" How the fuck do you LICK an orange??? The first time I heard it I thought it was a rotten fad trying to be made popular by uneducated ignoramuses. Apparently it has come to stay.
Anyway, Nyanya is quite famous. You'll often hear it being mentioned along with Mararaba, New Nyanya, Karo, Masaka, Ado, and Keffi - as I am doing now - because majority of the Abuja work force live in these places. Since the ex-Federal Capital Territory minister declared Abuja was not a city for the poor, over 70% of the energy that drives the city commute daily from these micro towns. If the minister hadn't provided mass transit busses for the aforementioned routes I would have included raining curses on him and six generations to come in my daily prayer repertoire.
You don't want to find yourself in Nyanya in the middle of the night. Least of all under the pedestrian bridge. That's where the shady characters hang out. A six foot plus lawyer was robbed there once. After collecting his valuables he was beaten black and blue by gun wielding thugs. Now if they can do that to a six foot plus lawyer I shudder to think what they could do to a-not-much-over-five-foot-non-lawyer me or anyone else for that matter.
Nyanya is so flagrant, on a good day (And again, that depends on a set of variables) the atmosphere brings out the best and worst in people. In most cases, say 99%, it's the latter. If Nyanya were a soup, it would be one that too many spices have been thrown in it lacks any distinct character of it's own. All you know is its garishness assaults your taste buds in a very peculiar way.
As I write this two women are fighting down the road. Here people are wound up so tight they are about to explode, never mind the spirited manner neighbours salute one another. At the slightest provocation insults are tossed, slaps are hurled and before you know it they're tangled in the mud and you see people rushing to their rescue. While others like me stop to enjoy the show.
Our house isn't all that either. If I were to describe its in reference to a smile, it would be that inch-wide pimple that mars the otherwise flawless landscape that is a pretty smile. The house is sandwiched between a clinic run by a 'greedy' doctor and a restaurant - drinking parlour sounds somewhat crude albeit that's precisely what it is. In front of the house is a bar that doubles as a Church on Sundays. When the doctor isn't trying to throw out one of his tenants the bar is blasting hiphop music. The does not encourage you to 'discover yourself' because in the first place you won't even be able to hear yourself.
A wise person once said; mingling with the powerful makes you arrogant, mingling with the rich makes you sinful while mingling with the poor keeps you humble. Or something to that effect. Living in Nyanya keeps me humble. Because when I look around I'm able to appreciate all I'm blessed with. When I see people struggling to eke out an honest living for themselves, I appraise myself and ask; why not you? Surely you can do better.
It's all good really. Aside from the random freak incidents, like that of the lawyer, Nyanya is quite safe. There's a lady that sells bbq'd fish across the road. I'm saying it (self) becuase when I move out of Nyanya, she'll be the first person I miss.
01/07/2007
