Lagos: A play of 17million characters

It would seem that we are all part of a giant movie. How you choose to categorise Lagos - as horror flick or tragi-comedy - depends on where you sit in the cast of characters. And it is true, we all choose the character that we wish to play. This being Lagos though, the emphasis is on high drama. No plot line is too outrageous and as long as you can say your lines with relish you’re in. The list isn’t exhaustive but the casting opportunities tend to fall into groupings:

If the grades at school were impeccable and the taste for corporate hospitality tents was whetted on numerous childhood outings to big weddings, perhaps a role as the harassed executive will appeal. As a harassed executive you will need to wear a uniform, in which case your suit stays on even in the blazing heat while you buy a blackberry which beeps to the tempo of a talking drum. Preoccupations include internal office coups, oil prices, network reach and the dollar-naira exchange rate. Note that family and friends are not mentioned: don’t they know how busy you are? The pressure justifies a host of other behaviours that can lead to cliffhangers in the bigger movie. From the good old fashioned assignation that morph into a promotion or three to the common garden over-invoice where the audit trail stops just before the cash hits your account.

Ideologically opposed to the harassed executive is the dilettante intellectual. Are you wringing your hands when you read of another sad story pointing to corruption and decay in the environs? Do you and your friends sit over bottles of South African wine, fretting about the fact that the country is still hopelessly dependent on the energy sector for all its cash? Do you speak with “foney,” softened by a concerted attempt not to sound too privileged? Then join this part of the story-line immediately. It is the dilettante intellectual’s role to laugh at the harassed executive then come begging him for sponsorship of his latest big idea that will lift the city to lofty heights. Sub-plots can include reporting on powerful men and women allegedly for noble reasons, but also because it shows how close to said power you are, having a ‘heated discussion’ with the gate-man at the British Council for not recognising you or your humble Corolla and wondering what your chums in Mushin and Mile2 will say when the funding runs out. Probably something along the lines of “oya go, we never liked your ‘aje butter’ behind anyway”. Sob and then create an exhibit about it, it’s art no bi so?

If larger crowd scenes move you, then grab a part as the simmering not so silent masses. If you are reading this newspaper second-hand and are secretly annoyed that the owner turned corners up or worse highlighted articles with marker pen that were of interest to them, then this is your crew. It is annoying being part of this group, but also comforting. As they say, misery loves company. Educated enough to know who the jokers, heroes and villains are and where they may be going wrong but allegedly too powerless for your voice to be heard. Rage needs it’s outlets and you can get yours and more than a walk on part in the movie by either sleeping and/or stealing from one of the Richie-Rich’s, praying to God to sort it, after all ‘justice is His and surely he is watching all these miscreants who are treating you anyhow’, or zoning out on a diet of celebrity mags and Maltina. The fact that many of the most pivotal moments in regular movies is when the mob gets violent or at least vocal, is lost. As is the opportunity to change your lot. The best party scenes and the musical interludes for the larger movie come from this sector. This is their chance to shine-shine after all,

What about the other roles and where does someone like me sit in the picture? You may have noted that the wily political official, the righteous foreign journalist, even the idle rich have not been dissected in this piece. Sorry folks word counts stop me from going any further. As for me, I have taken up my role of learned disco dancer with a sideline in wearing suits with glee. There’s a bit of every Lagos in me.

Mazzi Binaisa