By Bumi Craig
I visited Lagos lastyear from my base in Abuja, for the funeral ceremony of Mrs Florence Akinlemibola, the mother of my childhood friend. She lived to a ripe old age—so it was ‘owambe’ galore. We adorned our ‘aso ebis’ and boogied to juju live band music as we sent mama on her way to a glorious home-coming.

The event started with a wake-keeping on a Thursday evening,a church service followed by interment at Atan Cemetery,Yaba and a party at FESTAC.

FESTAC has become a big slum. Over crowded, dirty and noisy. When FESTAC was built in 1977, it was first used as accommodation for the visiting African artists from all over the continent who came to participate in the festival of arts and culture  held at the National theatre, Iganmu. After the festival, the properties were auctioned  to Nigerians. FESTAC  was well planned with gardens and parks, good roads, good water and security—andit was an ideal place to live.

But today, FESTAC has become an eye sore. There is congestion everywhere… there is no park or garden in sight, all have been built up. There are also a lot of commercial activities going on. The traffic in FESTAC is unbearable, particularly a place called ‘Apple junction,’ what a night- mare!

One thing I did notice through it all was the soul of FESTAC; there was a lot of hustling and bustling, music blaring…people hanging out on street corners, neighbours trooping in to celebrate mamas’ life with the family. Mama had lived in FESTAC for over 20 years, and all her hundreds of neighbours knew her, she was  loved and would be missed.

And so it was that we headed for Atan Cemetery on Friday morning, in a convoy behind the hearse, the driver of which I suspect must have had a glass too many for that time of the day. We escaped out of FESTAC about an hour and a half after we left the church, drivers then passed through some horrendous roads, the express way that runs to Apapa from the airport is a death trap for motorists. I was told  that the road is a ‘federal road’ hence the Lagos State |Government has no responsibility to repair and maintain it for goodness sake!!

We passed through Tejuosho Market, which was destroyed in a fire accident and was being reconstructed without adequate ventilation provision. I suppose we shall wait until its all ready, I was also told that the cheapest shop unit would cost you millions of Naira, just think of all the curtain materials you would have to sell to recoup that, never mind profit! If you cannot afford it, worry not, you can hawk your wares in the traffic everywhere in Lagos.

We finally arrived at Atan cemetery. Shock and horror are the only words I can use to describe the place. The bushes are all over grown and the drive path was almost overtaken by the bushes, the access road was so narrow and horrible. The whole place was unbelievable and there is no way anyone can rest in peace in that jungle, that was when I shed a tear for mama.

I could not believe that we have deteriorated to that level that we have no respect for the dead whatsoever. A fellow passenger in the car I was riding in promptly reminded me that I cannot expect anything more from a society where even the living do not have the minimum basic necessity for life, never mind the dead.

We proceeded to do the burial rites, dust to dust… I comforted my friends and walked back to the car and was ready to leave the place without further delay when I was told that we had to wait for the tomb to be filled and covered with the slab before we leave otherwise the corpse would be robbed, enough please! What? And so we sat in the car while the men supervised the sealing of the tomb.

You can imagine my relief when we got back to mamas’ place and it was party time, wow! did I party? A few glasses of red and I was on the dance floor, with my friends, their relatives, other friends and the entire neighbourhood!  The band was belting their hearts out and we responded appreciatively. Naira notes were flying all over the place, no law can stop that unfortunately, it was a lovely grand finale of the life of Mrs Florence Akinlemibola, may her soul rest in peace.

After the party, I returned to Ikoyi, where I was staying at the home of another childhood friend of mine, Mrs Rena Ibrahim who was out of the country with her family on vacation. No sooner had I rested my head on the pillow that I fell asleep. On Saturday, I visited relatives and ran some errands, came back and prepared to return to Abuja on Sunday evening, how mistaken I was!

The rain started slowly on Sunday Morning and the fresh breeze it brought was soothing, I stayed in bed savouring it all. And then the rain became heavier as it pounded the roof, the breeze got aggressive and we had to shut all doors and windows. We sat waiting for the rain to stop, it did not.Meanwhile, the water level had risen very high, and was coming into the house from every where: kitchen, living room, bedrooms, everywhere! We had to start lifting and moving things well above the floor, we had to raise everything up, freezers, furniture, everything, the water reached above our ankles, it was unstoppable and there was absolutely nothing we could do but wait and pray. Luckily one room was elevated above all the other rooms and so we all piled in there and spent the Sunday night in there. This was in the heart of Ikoyi, where you have the most expensive real estate in Lagos.

By Monday morning, the rain had stopped and the water was slowly receding, I phoned my friend and arranged with her staff on what needed to be done to safeguard and salvage her properties. Then I left for the airport, the roads were deserted for a Monday morning in Lagos as most people stayed at home to deal with the aftermath of the floods. We passed by Parkview, which I was told used to be a recreation park but is now an exclusive estate of luxurious homes.

As I sat in the plane waiting to take off to Abuja, I said a prayer for Lagos and Lagosians, I prayed for the place of my birth, the place of happy childhood memories.