Underground party on the rooftop of City Hall in Lagos Island

self-appointed Playboy

Friday night, 7.30PM, Lagos Island is buzzing with road-side lamp-lit by ambulant merchants, suya sellers and other food items. Pedestrians are dashing to their destination through cars, kekenapes, okadas, hawkers. For some it is time to get home, for others it is the beginning of party time. As we approach the City Hall building, which is now used for offices and to host functions, voices become louder, vehicles are queuing-up to climb-up the ramp leading up to the entrance hall of the building whose façade is adorned with squared-columns and glass protected by stylised irons grids. Cars are parked along the ramp and security staff is pressing car drivers to move on immediately after having disembarked their passengers. The main hall is hosting a wedding reception, luxuriously decorated. The music blares and a strong smell of fish is filling-up the whole place.

City Hall rooftop view

I am going to another function on the rooftop, but to do this I must cross the wedding entrance all and slip past a cloth curtain to reach the staircase. Behind the curtain, the floor is wet and somewhat littered. No-one bothers me as I start ascending because people are busy drinking beers - I suspect these guys are staff or employed by the event company. Each floors is decorated with ceramics and tiles, one large panel features the Third Mainland Bridge.
The access to the rooftop happens through the Goethe Institute located on the left side of the top floor. Germans have an acquired taste for underground parties. This could be in Berlin but also in New York. The scene takes place in a corner of the terrace which forms a large expanse of concrete with a surrounding wall of more than two meters height. It is ideal to look at the sky but one can't see the skyline except if one climbs on a tower, in the centre, through a simple metal ladder.

a tattoo in the dark

A DJ is playing behind a set of instruments that will later be used by a band. Overall, the place is poorly lit by three light projectors beaming the photographs on the wall in distinct areas and by the cloudy sky reflecting the orange of the street lights. A white lady, Olivia, is doing free tattoos. I observe the perspiring hand of the man who is undergoing his free-tattoo session on the back of his hand. Some face painting happens in another corner. Drinks and a bit of food are available there too but soon run out. The artist of the Lagos Biennale are all invited.
After a while, the band starts playing. The singer, a tall guy with sarwell trousers, red bushy hair and a serious black beard, sings in Hausa and dances like a Punk on rock beats. An improbable performance in the middle of the Felabrations week.

I am watching you

The crowd is mostly young and arty having fun taking selfies with their smartphones, especially those with painted faces. Everything is immediately on Snapchat or Instagram as it should be. The party is here and it is liked there as well.

The Ogiamien family in Benin City: about wood and history

Roland Ogiamien in his wood-carving workshop Wood Roland Ogiamien is a renown wood carver. He is now retired in his home town of Benin City and is now in his 80s. We met him in his simple workshop, a barn opened on the surrounding greenery. A part of the studio is used to store wood pieces and make sure they are well dried. He is using a collection of german ustensils to carve and polish the wood. He spent most of his career working out of Lagos before relocating to Benin. Roland was explaining that the wood he uses today is different that the one he worked on in his early days. Ebony has become rare and wood carvers have had to switch to other types of wood. Traditional heritage is a large part of his inspiration which he translates on wood with his own particular style, exploring various techniques for the finish of his pieces. Roland Ogiamien and two of his favourite masks History Ogiamien is the name of an important royal family in Benin Kingdom. Towards the end of the

no hawkers allowed on kingsway

no hawking Sign of hawkers this was my discovery of the week in the urban signage section. I had to think hard what the "damaged hat" was all about? Until I saw a couple of people walking with large flat baskets on their heads loaded with small portions of peanuts wrapped-up in plastic bags right by the signage. I then understood that they were not supposed to be there if the signage is of any relevance. Exactly why is another matter. Perhaps for safety reasons as in the past people hijacking cars could have been mistaken with the hawkers selling wares in the traffic. Today Kingsway, the large avenue crossing Ikoyi and coming straight out of Victoria Island through the Falomo bridge, is fairly safe. Its 2*2 lanes are often packed with slow traffic and therefore a good place for hawkers to do business. Youth's future on Kingsway Two billboards attracted my attention along Alfred Rewane avenue (the new name for Kingsway). One was a representation of a young a

The mysterious stones images of Esie

turned into Stones Chief J. Agbo Ooye had been waiting in the shade of a large tree, in front of the National Museum of Esie, dressed in ceremonial costume with a velvet hat incrusted with crystal beads sown in the shape of his title and his name. He was sitting next to his wife on a bench, expecting our arrival. His wife, he would tell us later, was his best friend and she was actually demonstrating it by guiding his frail body from one place to another and guiding his hand when it came to sign autographs of his books. Chief Agbo Ooye is the author of two booklets on the Esie Stones. The first one, called A Personal Account of the Esie Stones is giving an overview of the differences between the scientific and the traditional interpretation of the Esie Stones. The second one is called the History of Esie and gives a brief account of Esie's history from the early settlement of Yorubas in various groups (Esie, Oro, Eku Apa, Igbonla, Edidi, Igbesi, etc...) to the present day. Thos

Nigeria, the land of plenty

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