DON’T ASK WHY, ASK WHY NOT (A HIGHLIGHT REEL OF 2022)
Background music- Picture Me by Dave
Picture me.
December 31st evening, walking down Commercial avenue Yaba, no, not walking, bubbling, bubbling down Commercial avenue Yaba, brimming with excitement, filled with dreams, goals, and plans for the coming year. Picture me tweeting bold declarations about how the year 2021 was nothing more than a rough experiment to see if I had that dawg in me and how the results of the experiments came out positive. Tweeting as I walk down a major road with no regard for traffic, my life, or the dawg in it.
2022 was going to be my year. My madness was gearing up to bare itself.
Picture this.
January 5th, early morning, I’m hunched back typing on my laptop. I couldn’t bring myself to write a 2021 year in review, so I’m doing the more audacious and ballsy thing- I’m writing my 2022 year in review. I’m laying out my goals, dreams, and the things I hope to achieve in the year.
2022 was going to be my year. The theme: Don’t ask why, ask why not…
Picture my year heading off to a flying start.
Picture me on a stage with my heart clawing and scratching against my chest in excitement, eyes wide with glee, hand over mouth, body weightless. There are lights, cameras, a crowd of strangers, and a melodramatic light-skinned Igbo man announcing me as one of the winners of O2 academy’s scholarship.
2022 was looking good. My career in Marketing and advertising was officially kicking off.
Special shout out to Tumininu for this
Picture me.
Blond hair, three-piece suit, sexy boots, looking fly as hell carrying a torn rice sack filled with Ice block with another equally stunning looking man Ahamad because I’m on the organizing committee of what turned out to be a drop-dead gorgeous dinner. I’m irritated. The dripping is ruining my drip.
Picture me later that night, red cup in hand, less dressed, eyes blurry, jumping, screaming “La Puissance” at the top of my lungs with my people. Their shirts are no longer tucked in nicely, heels long gone, make-up washed off in ecstasy. There, then, in that faceless breathless moment, where moving white shirts, colorful dresses, and disco lights collided excitedly with the dark like gas particles into a dreamlike frenzy, into something transcendent. We were infinite.
Picture me in the great city of Ibadan.
Brown roofs, brown roads, brown houses and brown taxis. I’m at the top of a mountain at Ado Awaiye, the suspended lake is just a few meters behind us, the only one in the world I hear. On my left is Jeffrey, on my right is Shitta, and behind me are Tolu and Bigbee. We’re dancing rollcall and actively butchering the soul of Tere tere by Toofan with our confused movements, we’re laughing, we’re beyond the realms of happy, exhausted.
Picture me on top of the world, dancing offbeat to a Togolese song with some of my best buddies, some of the people I admire, love and value the most in life. Now juxtapose that image to the image of me angry, shouting at Jeffrey, nervous, anxious, maybe a little terrified. We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s 12:34 AM. Mother dearest is calling me to scream at me at 3 minutes intervals. Our bus got spoilt on the way back from Osun.
Picture me at FASA baptism staring at this babe, she had the most beautiful septum piercing I’d ever seen. 5ft5, glowing dark skin, eyes the shape of sin, lips made for foul carnal things. She’s in a white crop top, green cargo pants, solid combat boots, and a silver pearl necklace.
Picture me staring for 5 minutes, now ten. now 30, now the entire night. Picture me willing my legs to walk up to her, picture them in protest, refusing to be moved. Picture me drowning them in liquor in other to weaken their resolve, picture them in protest refusing to be moved, Picture me reminding them of our theme for the year: don’t ask why, ask why not, picture them cowering in shame, refusing to be moved.
Picture me with my friend Tomi searching for her when the party was almost over, finally ready to make my move, now, juxtapose with the image of her entering a Silver Toyota Corolla with her friends and driving off before my eyes.
Picture me.
Gassed up and brimming with energy, planning to start a Podcast: The Orisirisi Obe Podcast, and also open an online art store: The Subtitles Art store. Right beside that image place another, It’s the image of me on December 31st, staring at those two ideas on my notepad, the only place they existed.
So much for don’t ask why, ask why not. Picture me disgusted, disappointed.
Picture me.
Hunched back on my Laptop at the dining table, a graduate of O2 academy school of media and advertising, the number 1 in the nation, in the background Arise News is on: ASUU extends strike. I’m sending out a fresh hot batch of Job applications, one of the millions of batches I sent out and as I’m hitting send, a mail comes in, it’s a rejection mail. One of the few agencies polite enough to send one.
Picture me finally getting a job after all of the hard work and heartbreak, now juxtapose that to the image of me losing it when ASUU called off the strike.
2022 is not looking good. My career in Marketing and advertising is being carried off the pitch on a stretcher.
Picture this.
It’s 3:37 AM. I’m rolling like an idiot on my bed, giggling, blushing like a little school boy when his crush says hi to him, talking to a woman knowing fully well I had to be up by 6 to drop my sister at work. I’m in love.
Picture me holding hands, walking down DLI road, going on library dates, going on movie dates, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of finishness.
Now picture me around 12:00 AM on a random Tuesday morning eating breakfast.
2022 was not going to be my year. The theme: Don’t ask why, ask why not..
Picture this.
I’m standing by a tree at the Cab park entrance opposite ISL, at DLI. Ebube and Uche are “gisting” in front of me up on the elevated sidewalk. Courage is beside me, resting on the tree, telling another implausible, ludicrous and hilarious story. Ruth is sitting on the elevated sidewalk leaning on Tomi beside her laughing her eyes out at whatever Courage is saying, her laughter is just as hilarious as whatever Courage is saying. Demi is up on the sidewalk, standing just slightly apart from Ebube and Uche, texting, smiling, she has the cutest smile. Jenifer is walking towards us, she’s strutting for effect, but she’s doing it rather elegantly, it doesn’t hurt that the sun is behind her granting her a glorious silhouette, and the wind is in love with her wig, romancing it, swaying it from right to left delicately.
We’re at DLI about to write our first exam. These are the people that make learning at Unilag bearable for me
Final Picture.
Picture me lying on a naked mattress in Eni Njoku facing the wall because I don’t want any of my roommates to see that I’m a few uneven breaths away from tears. I couldn’t afford birthday presents for two people that were dear to me. Broke. Broken. Too scared, too proud to ask for help. Special shout out to my brother for coming through for me continuously this period. I love you, bro.
This image blurs into another, I’m in the same position, but this time I’m not sulking. I’m watching HOTD on my laptop for the third time over, Dede, the Mbappe of my life. The man that has come up clutch for me more times than I can count turns up yet again, scoring a last-minute equalizer against the shege I was playing against with two tickets to Victony’s concert.
Picture me with my arms around Dede’s shoulders, jumping, screaming, professing the only universal, indisputable truth we can all agree upon as a species “BUM BUM DEY DIFFA-RENT SIZE OOOO”, and with this, credits roll and the screen fades to black.
All in all, 2022 was either a solid three or a shaky seven. I can’t seem to make up my mind, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? 2023 is upon us. The Theme for the year: Don’t ask why, Don’t ask why not. Just fuking do it.
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
