We were fifteen; all keen and zealous travel bloggers and photographers, touring the beautiful city of Lagos; and the New Afrika Shrine was our second to the last stop. Believed to be the haven of hemp smokers in Lagos, yet drawing throngs of visitors and fun lovers every other weekend. There’s more to this place than what the public says. This true story, to the world, we must convey…

That day, the noon sun danced along its clear blue skies, trailing us as we snaked from the high-brow Ikoyi area of the city, through the beautiful stretch of 3rd-Mainland bridge, overlooking the intriguingly arty assembly of Makoko’s floating shanties on one side, and an endless sprawl of the resplendent Lagos Lagoon on the other side; and up to the streets of Alausa in Ikeja where the edifice of the New Afrika Shrine reposes.

They call it a shrine, not because gods are worshipped there, or because fetish acts are performed there, but because it is the original home of Afro-beat and where Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, its legendary creator entertained his numerous fans when he was alive.

The shrine stands strong, not too big and not too small- a big hall clad in brown and yellow colours, with patterns of green, red and black, suggesting its proudly-African symbolism. A sculpted muscular human-arm figure with clenched fist sits atop the pedestrian entrance of the compound, beyond and above which the large letterings of the “Afrika Shrine” and a painting of Fela lifting an African shield, stare at visitors from the top of the main building.

A decently dressed young man met us at the entrance and ushered us in. He blew a pleasant smile as he introduced himself as our tour guide and asked us to follow him. Two big signs welcomed us into the surroundings of the compound. One read "The secret of life is to have no fear" while the other read "A man without the knowledge of where he has been, knows not where he is or where he is going". We turned to the right to enter the main hall and on the beautifully pattern-painted fence hangs another sign “The events which transpired 5000 years ago or five minutes ago have determined what will happen five minutes from now, five years from now or 5000 years from now, All history is a current event.”  These words struck me with an introspective effect. It reminded me of my origin, the kind of man I ought to be, the kind of man I am presently and the kind of man I dream to be.

I got cut off in mid-thought as we entered the main building and the air began to thump, reverberating to raging drumbeats which exuded from massive audio speakers mounted at different points within the hall. It was one of Fela’s songs. I’ve heard it before, somewhere I can’t remember. Maybe from my dad’s turn table back in the days when I was a kid, or from one of the Fm radio stations sometime over the years. I know the song. It carried the familiar uncommon rhythm of the Afro-beat I know… the throbbing of goat-skinned drums, the bellows of sax and trumpets, the soft metallic infusion of guitar strings and clanging of gongs and cymbals, and the unforgettable fearless voice of Fela Anikulapo himself. Reflexively, everyone of us began to nod to the rhythm of the song. I loved the feeling. It got me tapping my fingers against the lens of my camera.

As we followed our guide down the hall, our heads twisted and turned, and our eyes feasted on the myriad of sights within the large hall. The sitting area is a wide raised central portion of the open building flanked on the sides by partitioned corridors. The hall is set with neatly arranged tables and chairs to cater for the relaxation and refreshment needs of the visitors. I could spot a man at the other end of the sitting area nibbling at a big goat meat from a steaming hot bowl of pepper soup on his table.

Numerous books and ceramic pots stood in shelves along with some paintings and sculpted relief works at one of the partitions on the corridors. It appears to be an information stand for the popular Festac festival. Some meters beside the stand, a group of young men who sat and stood around snooker tables clapped and jumped in excitement as one of the players ported the winning black ball with a deafening shot. It caught my attention, I moved closer and noticed the big sign on the wall behind the snooker tables. It read "United we stand, divided we fall, Africa must unite." I had heard many stories about Fela Shrine and most of the stories had been linked to dope smoking and prostitution; but the sights around here spoke differently. I saw more of a haven of freedom of expression for the average African man. A place where everyone was equal. A place where one could get inspired and entertained alongside.

The tour guide stopped just after the snooker tables, in front of a small partition along the side wall of the hall. Both the walls and floors of the partition has been finished with ceramic tiles and beautified with various sculptures of wood and fired clay and a dusty facial sculpture of Fela suspending from a stand at its centre. "Contrary to general opinion, not everyone who come to Afrika Shrine is a dope smoker,” began the tour guide, “…I don’t, as well as many people who work here," he said and continued as he explained the purpose for which the shrine was established and narrated the life and times of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti highlighting the values he stood and fought for- music, human rights, and fairness in politics and public governance.

While my tour members were engrossed with the discussion , I got distracted by the various murals on the walls of the hall; and just as I swerved my camera around, snapping photos of the writings and paintings, the door of the rear end of the hall opened and a woman gently stepped in and began to walk towards us. Small strands of grey hair peeping out from within her gracious hair and some small wrinkles at the corner of her eyes hinted a fifty+ years of age, but her carriage and overall appearance suggested a lady in her late 30s. She was garbed in a stylishly sewn and beautifully embroidered blue Adire blouse, matching it with blue head tie worn as a band beneath neatly packed hair which has been woven into big strands, and rocking blue beaded bangles on her wrist and ankles, walking with a confident strut supported by white jean pants and blue pump high-heel shoes. She stopped about two meters away from us, stood firm with her hands clasped at her waist. Our tour guide immediately paused, turned and introduced the who woman who had now started beaming an irresistible and charming smile."Meet aunty Omoyeni Kuti, Fela’s eldest daughter and first child." Everyone turned and beamed with surprise. We were stunned. Her elegant yet humble poise was so endearing. She welcomed us and took us round the shrine, showing us the various photos hung along the walls and stairwell of the rear office block and dressing rooms behind the hall. The photos recorded some of the notable shows and events at which Fela played during his lifetime.

We were overwhelmed and challenged by the historical account of Fela’s life and values, and extremely amused by his rebellious and unconventional conducts. We left the shrine with a renewed confidence in our African roots, and the white members of our team marvelled at the kind of character Fela was. Aunty ‘Yeni Kuti encouraged us to come for the weekly Friday shows at the shrine. It sure promises to be A-MA-ZING!!

-Two big signs welcomed us into the surroundings of the compound. One read "The secret of life is to have no fear" while the other read "A man without the knowledge of where he has been….”

- We turned to the right to enter the main hall and on the beautifully pattern-painted fence hangs another sign “The events which transpired 5000 years ago…”

– As we followed our guide down the hall, our heads twisted and turned, and our eyes feasted on the myriad of sights within the large hall. The sitting area is a wide raised central portion of the open building flanked on the sides by partitioned corridors…

- Numerous books and ceramic pots stood in shelves along with some paintings and sculpted relief works at one of the partitions on the corridors. It appears to be an information stand for the popular Festac festival…

– The raised stage and plaform for the performing musician.

-  The tour guide stopped just after the snooker tables, in front of a small partition along the side wall of the hall. Both the walls and floors of the partition has been finished with ceramic tiles and beautified with various sculptures of wood…

  …as I swerved my camera around, snapping photos of the writings and paintings, the door of the rear end of the hall opened and a woman gently stepped in and began to walk towards us…… She was garbed in a stylishly sewn and beautifully embroidered blue Adire blouse, matching it with blue head tie worn as a band beneath neatly packed hair…

"Meet aunty Omoyeni Kuti, Fela’s eldest daughter and first child"

…Her elegant yet humble poise was so endearing. She welcomed us and took us round the shrine…

 
- She showed us a mural of Fela by Lemi Ghariokwu.

…showing us the various photos hung along the walls and stairwell of the rear office block and dressing rooms behind the hall. The photos recorded some of the notable shows and events at which Fela played during his lifetime…

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The Lagos You Don’t See: A Whitespace, Ikoyi, where we connected back with an ancient Nigeria

Milky, tasty, fresh, chilly, awesome, tantalizing, alluring, refreshing, invigorating, revitalizing, breath-taking, amazing…. is the calabash of Palm wine served at Terra Kulture in Victoria Island, Lagos.

The noon sun burned mercilessly over the skies of the busy Island and the breeze from the nearby Kuramo Beach being quenched by the blazing solar heat could not relieve. I needed something chilly and fresh; something to quicken my waning strength.

A bowl of Palm wine at Terra Kulture saved the day. Fresh, vibrant, tempting, potent and chilly Palm wine, smiling at me from a neatly carved calabash resting in another bowl of carved timber. It won’t get you drunk but it will liven you up. The thin flakes of ice floating atop the viscous wine posed an irresistible seductive appeal for me. It was an offer I could not refuse. One second and then the next, with my two palms I lifted the calabash to my mouth and a gulp of the fluid down my throat triggered a shockwave of delight and bliss through my being.

You’re a Lagosian, and it’s been a while you tasted palm wine, or you’ve probably never tasted it before and have heard many tales about it; good news is that there are many places near you right there within Lagos metropolis where you can get a fresh bowl of the most coveted African wine. All you need to do is ask around; and in case you want to get yours where I got mine, simply dash down to Terra Kulture at Plot 1376, Tiamiyu Savage Street, off Ahmadu Bello Way in Victoria Island, Lagos.

The tide was rising and a cloak of frigid air enfolded the Degema area. It was close to mid-night and the moon soared high into a nude sky. Standing on the veranda of the lower deck of our houseboat which had been carefully moored on the banks of Sambreiro River, somewhere between Nkpor and Ilelema communities of Niger Delta, Nigeria, I leaned on the rail, staring at the flowing river and marvelling at the beauty of the sharp meander the river makes at a distant. The forests which form a verdant band of alternating high and low mangrove forests on both sides of the creek, swayed gently to the sweep of the passing wind; their shadows lie sprawled across the waters.

One of my crew members, Franklin, was walking past behind me and he suddenly stopped a meter to my right side. I noticed the pause in his footsteps and guessed he wanted to talk to me. I turned to his direction and there he stood, starring at the metal cross-bars on the roof of the deck. He bent his head, held the railing and gently moved further away from the wall of the boat. He docked a little and stretched forward, now starring at a dingy corner of the roof. While still looking up, he took a slow step backward and stretched out his hand as if to tap me and call my attention.

I smiled, “wetin dey happen, guy” (what’s happening), I asked sarcastically. “This one wey you dey fear like this, na snake you see or na wetin?” (it seems you just saw a snake or what?).

“Come see this thing, I no sabi wetin he be o,” (come and see this thing, I don’t know what it is) he replied with a tone of seriousness. I moved closer to him to take a look at the corner of the roof. An animal crouched in the shadows of the ceiling. It had a subtle appearance of a monkey but in another way, it didn’t look like a monkey. I narrowed my eyes and slowly moved closer to have a better look. Its fur was brown and thick with the layers of hair resting gracefully and smoothly on one another, shining mildly from the rays of reflected light cast on it by the metal floor of the boat. It held tight to a set of metal pipes running along the corner of the ceiling. Its locked grip revealed its ape like hand but nails that looked like that of man. The creature seemed very shy as it hid its face away from our view and locked it deeper in the shadows.

– A view of the beautiful Sambreiro River at sunset.

Again, Franklin flinched and stepped back a little. “This thing na bush baby o,” he said in a low and doubtful tone.

“No ooo,” I protested, “it is a monkey joor.”

Both of us stood there for a moment longer, silent and carefully observing the gentle and beautiful animal; wondering what exactly it was and how it got on the boat. As if he had just seen another evidence to back his claim, “guy, I dey tell you, this thing na bush baby,” (I am telling you that this thing is a bush baby) he said again.

“Are you drunk? Can you see any mat in its hand? Can’t you see this creature looks like a monkey? Maybe it is even a koala sef. “

Immediately I said this, he looked at me shockingly and fell to his knees in laughter, then climbed the railing back to his feet. “Koala koo, tapioka nii,” he said, amidst his reel of mocking laughter. “…and who told you that bush babies carry mats?”

I became confused. Being a Yoruba boy from south-west Nigeria, I had heard many fables/myths about bush babies right from my childhood days. I had been told that bush babies are nocturnal pygmy ‘human-like’ creatures that walk about naked in the forest at night, carrying mats and lantern and crying like a baby. It was also said that if one is lucky to find one and snatch his mat, one would become very rich. In those days, I often got lost in my imaginations, envying those people living in the far-flung rural areas. I used to think they were luckier than those of us living in the cities, as they’ll have higher chances of encountering and capturing a bush baby. This belief is one that has woven into the fabric of the mentality of most Yoruba people in South-west Nigeria. But being an Ijaw man from a riverine community in the Niger Delta, southern Nigeria, Franklin found my knowledge about bush babies extremely hilarious.

I wouldn’t allow his mockery to distract me, so I shifted my gaze back to the mystery animal which had now turned its face towards us. From the shadows, two big orange blazing eyes stared at us, sending a shockwave of shrill through my body. I shuddered.

“Wetin be this?” I exclaimed. I had to wipe my face with my right palm and blinked my eyes in order to be sure that my eyes and mind weren’t playing tricks on me. Franklin was still staring at the animal. I turned and ran to my room to get my camera. On getting back, I met two other people with Franklin observing and arguing about the animal. It was Ejiro, another Niger Delta pikin and a member of our exploration crew and one of the local security guards on board. The local guard confirmed that the animal was a bush baby. They all agreed and concluded that it could have swum from the thick forests across the river to our boat. Ejiro thought the creature was demonic, so he advised that we capture it, burn it and throw it inside the water. The rest of us made jest about his pusillanimity and disagreed about killing the poor animal.

I got even more confused. “This thing can’t be a bush baby naaa,” I thought again. I had to clear my doubts. So, I flipped out my mobile phone and googled ‘bush baby’. The images loaded in the search result page left my mouth hanging in shock and amazement. The pictures looked exactly like the animal clung to the roof above me. “Na him o…na bush baby o!” (It’s a bush baby!). I couldn’t hold the excitement and surprise. Everyone turned and enclosed me as we all observed the pictures of bush babies on my phone. Franklin was particularly feeling happy and victorious since his guess was right. Then I narrated the folktales, myths and popular beliefs of the Yoruba people about bush babies. They laughed uncontrollably and told me they had never heard such stories before about bush babies.

That night, the local guard brought a big plastic basket, and with a big stick he forced the animal inside it, covered and sealed it with perforated polythene and kept it under the staircase located at one end of the boat.

We woke up the following morning to meet the basket still carefully sealed but empty. We were flabbergasted.

“I knew it! I knew that animal was demonic. We should have killed it last night when we got the chance, you see.” Ejiro said angrily.

“Calm down joor, demonic koo, camonic nii!” I replied sarcastically. “That animal was just a lovely, cute and innocent animal. I suspect that one of the local guards came to sneak the animal away after we went to bed.” He decided to give up the argument as Franklin shared the same thought with me.

I kept looking at the photos of the mysterious animal on my camera, admiring its lovable and alluring form; and each time I stand on the veranda of the house boat and observe the wall of lush mangrove forests gracing the river banks on the opposite side, I get lost in awe, wondering how many more rare or endangered fauna species exists in the thickets of this our Niger Delta.

– The part of the houseboat roof (in red circle) where the Bush baby was found.

- Too shy, it turned its face away from our view.

- Then, I moved to the other side to get a better view…

…and it turned its face toward us, revealing its bulging yellow eyes, but still shy to show its full face.

Seems to want to get a better view of its admirers now…

Finally shows its full face before we captured it and kept it in the basket.

Related Posts:

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Strange Birds, Broken Lands, Rich Fauna: The Niger Delta

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My name is Dàda Àreògún. I am a wood carver. A lot of you may not know me, but I am sure that by the time you’re reading this story, my name would have been etched on the sands of time.

I was born  in 1880 in a small quiet village called Osi-Ilorin, located at the northern edge of Ekiti State, South-western Nigeria. The village is set in a large expanse of gentle and densely forested rolling hills walled by the lush Effon Ridge to the east and the granite hills of the Ikere and Ijero enclaves stretching all the way to the South, and dissected by webbing streams of crystal clear rivers.

My parents and the villagers considered me a special child because of my natural dàda hair (dreadlocks), which I was born with and named after. Children are rarely born with this type of hair in Yoruba land. I was given special attention at home and in the village square. I enjoyed the attention, and it fortified my self confidence and belief that someday I will become great.

I loved trees. I loved the touch and feel of their rough barks, and got fascinated with the special skill with which Woodpecker birds and Owls sculpted their homes in their fat stems. I admired the fairly smooth finishing of the internal parts of the bored holes.

A big tree sat at the village square. Its stem bulged at the base and narrowed as it towered into the skies, capped with an umbrella of verdant canopy. Numerous holes had been bored by birds in a seemingly-systematic pattern at the upper segments of its stem where man could not easily reach. So amazing they seemed, and whenever I followed mama to the village square on market days, I often spent most of the time starring up at the holes.

“Like these birds, I could sculpt tree stems into whatever I want,” I often thought to myself and I decided to learn the art of wood carving. Baba Bamgbose, a famous wood carver at the time and my father’s friend accepted me at a tender age. He took me as his favourite apprentice and that was when it all began.

As I watched Baba Bamgbose, I fell deeper in love with timber. I knew all the different types. I could even identify trees from afar. I could estimate the size of the stem and how much raw material I could get from it. I also revered Ogun the god of iron because iron was my primary tool. I needed his blessing and inspiration as I handled his tool. After years of hard work and dedicated learning, I became as skillful as my master. When I gained freedom and independence from Baba Bamgbose, I dedicated my time into perfecting some areas of my profession and creating a distinct style for myself.

Although I carved in a traditional manner, I adopted a unique smooth and fairly flat finishing and logical composition to my relief carvings shown in the low-relief figures on my lidded bowls, which are often arranged in an orderly and tight structure. I also acknowledged the gods in my works because I believed they blessed my hands with grace of craft. I learnt from the birds and nature loved my works. I became wealthy. Kings and princes from far and near patronized me. I carved their Palace doors. The villagers sang my praises, they called me Àreògún-yànnà, which means ‘one who makes money with the tools of Ogun, and spends it generously’. I specialized in carving doors, house posts, masks and lidded bowls.

As I grew old, I began to foresee into the future and thought that my works needed an identity. I then decided to start branding my works with a special signature- a triangle at the bottom- so that anyone who saw it would know I produced it. I also taught my son, Bamidele the art that made me great and he grew up to become a famous wood carver himself. He worked on a project to create new modern Christian art in Nigeria. He created his own unique style.

I am glad to see my works see the light of life. I lived, I followed my passion, explored my dreams and upheld an art that stood the test of time. This is my art, I am Dàda Àreògún, the wood carver.

- A hinged double panel door in low relief but extremely detailed style by Dada Areogun. (Picture Source: www.ere-yoruba.com)

– A vintage, single panel low relief, carved door by Dada Areogun.
(Picture Source: www.ere-yoruba.com)

– Bowl with lid by Areogun (Early 19th to mid-20th century),made of wood and iron. (Picture Source: www.kam.illinois.edu)

- Wooden door by Areogun . (Picture Source: adetokunbohr.wordpress.com)

areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun

areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun areogun

You visit a village in south-western Nigeria and see a group of men standing or sitting beneath the shade of a tree canopy, around two men seated on a bench and facing each other with a wooden board between them- a wooden board incised with two rows of six holes each, containing heaps of green seeds… Sometimes, you even find a big gourd of palm wine reposed on the ground beside them, with cups of its fresh content resting happily in between the laps of the seated men. You can guess what they’re doing. They’re playing the great Ayò Olópón board game.

When I was a little boy, my grandma taught me how to play this game. We had a beautiful board at home back then. The board was made from a strong timber and carved with the figure of an eagle forming its stand. The cover of the board made it possible to use it as a stool when not opened. I loved this game. Unfortunately, I grew up to discover that my generation fancied foreign games, and preferred them to our indigenous games such as the Ayò Olópón. Video games reigned in high schools and universities, and one will likely not have anyone to play with if one dared bring a board game like the Ayò to school.

Back in the days, Ayò Olópón was regarded as a game for elders, and children who played it were presumed as matured and smart. It is also said that the game is played in different places across Africa and can be played with different rules. This is one of the games that connects us back to our ancestors and promotes culture in Nigeria. The Ayò game is a cultural heritage we must revive, this game is a treasure we must keep, and we must teach our children to master.

Thanks to the annual Osun-Oshogbo festival in Osun State, during which the game is played as a major tournament and its winners awarded huge sums of money. There is also news that the game will be incorporated into national sports festivals where contestants will represent their states.

We also have online versions of the Ayo game. They can be played at:
- www.awale.info/joc/en/index.html
- www.alephzero.co.uk/demos/ayo/pebbles.htm

- Ayò Olópón board with its seeds.

– People playing Ayò game in Kumasi, Ghana.

(Story by Jamaican travel blogger Marcia Mayne of InsideJourneys)

Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park (pronounced A-be-o-ku-ta*) is located a few yards off the Dean’s Valley Road in Westmoreland. The centrepiece of this rustic eco-tourism destination is an almost Olympic-sized pool which is fed by water that is channelled via an aqueduct from the nearby Sweet River.

Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park took its name from the community of Abeokuta, which in turn got its name from the city in southwest Nigeria. When the Yorubas, who came to Jamaica as indentured workers, arrived in this part of Westmoreland, they thought it looked so much like the Abeokuta they had left behind that they gave it the same name. Abeokuta is part of the old Dean’s Valley Water Works Estate, a sugar plantation that at one time covered 2,200 acres.

- Abeokuta’s pool.

The estate changed hands many times and eventually became known as Dean’s Valley, which is also the name of the community. The adjoining community took the name Water Works.

I grew up not far from the Dean’s Valley / Water Works area and knew of ‘Bekuta,’ as everyone calls it, but had no idea then of its significance. Later, I would hear that Dr. Olive Lewin, O.D., cultural anthropologist and musicologist had found and recorded the music of people who spoke an African language. I was intrigued that anyone in Jamaica had preserved their native language and wanted to know more. Then one night as my mom and I watched a documentary that was based on Laura Tanna’s book, Jamaican Folktales and Oral Histories, she screamed and pointed to the screen. Tanna had interviewed several residents of Abeokuta, and recorded their stories. My mom had recognized one of the interviewees whose name I’ve now forgotten but who I’m sure has passed on.

ABEOKUTA FINDS NEW OWNERS

In 1980, part of Dean’s Valley, which included Abeokuta, was sold and two years later passed by descent to Owen Banhan, one of the new owner’s sons.

– “Daddy” Banhan

According to Owen, known as Daddy, it took several months for him to clear the almost 15-acre property of thick brush. Once cleared, he made a surprising discovery — the ruins of the 18th century Dean’s Valley Great House, the pool and aqueduct.

Seeing how the nearby Roaring River Park had been transformed into an eco-tourism spot, the Banhans set out to do the same at the place they christened Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park.

- View from Abeaokuta.

The Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park was opened officially in January, 2003 by Florentina Adenike Ukonga, who was then the high commissioner of Nigeria to Jamaica.

It was after reading about the opening that I visited Abeokuta and met Daddy and his family. I’ve been back several times, the latest last weekend.

– Aqueduct at Abeokuta.

Much has changed as Daddy continues to prepare the property to accommodate the increasing number of visitors and locals who come to enjoy this peaceful oasis with sweeping views of Westmoreland. On a clear day, you could see as far as Negril, which is about 26 miles away.

Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park is garden of ginger lilies, ferns, taro plants, croton, palms, thickets of bamboo, etc. Nature lovers can follow the aqueduct to the source of the river, a leisurely 15 minute walk away. It is from here that they can view the rock that reminded the Yorubas of Olumo Rock, which had provided their ancestors refuge at the other Abeokuta.

FISH PEDICURE ANYONE?

For those who can’t or don’t want to swim, the pool offers another option: a fish pedicure. Dip your feet into the water — it’s a bit cool — and an inch-long carp, known as the doctor fish, will begin to feed on the dead skin on your feet. It tickles at first and the fish disperse at the slightest movement, but if you sit still long enough, you’ll enjoy a temporary exfoliating treatment.

– Fish pedicure.

Abeokuta Paradise Nature Park is open daily from 9 – 6 p.m. It’ll cost you $5 to enter, $4 for a guided nature walk. If you’d like to stay for lunch, that will be another $8, $10 if you prefer to have fish. Prices are in US dollars.

If you want to read more on Abeokuta, check out:

Rock it Over: The Folk Music of Jamaica, Dr. Olive Lewin
Jamaican Folktales and Oral Histories, Laura Tanna

* Nigerian author, Wole Soyinka who was born in Abeokuta, Nigeria, visited Abeokuta, Westmoreland in the 1990s. I remember seeing a clip of him on television pronouncing the name, which is how I call it now. I searched online but couldn’t find the clip.

You can find this story on Marcia’s blog at www.insidejourneys.com/abeokuta-paradise-nature-park/

So, sit back, relax and enjoy a tour of Lagos with an African-American who is passionate about connecting back to her root.

Related Posts:

- Bogobiri Restaurant in Ikoyi, Lagos…You’ll either Love it or Hate it!!

- The Lagos You Don’t See: A Whitespace, Ikoyi, where we connected back with an ancient Nigeria

- The Lagos You Don’t See: The amazing Nike Art Gallery in Lekki

This series shall feature games that someway and somehow have something to do with culture and tourism in Nigeria, and we’re starting with the new Lagos Monopoly game.

The Lagos edition of the Monopoly game hit Nigeria’s socio-cultural milieu with a bang last year December; and despite the fast-paced and busy life of Lagosians, which allows the people little or no time for such time-consuming board games, the demand for the new board kept soaring. We can only pray that the ‘Aba’ version will not infiltrate the market soon.

Many individuals, families and groups of friends can be seen in public places around town flashing their copies of the game. Even Social Media Week Lagos featured a Lagos Monopoly competition (hosted by Lost in Lagos) where the winner got N50,000 cash prize and a monopoly board. The fame of the new edition of the game is gradually spreading like wildfire.

I got my own copy of the Lagos monopoly some days after the launch. It was a Christmas gift from an awesome friend. As I opened the box and brought out the board and the accompanying pamphlets, a surge of nostalgia swept over me. I remembered good childhood days when my neighbours often came to my house on weekends to play the monopoly game with my brothers and I. We had great moments together. I remember how my elder brother and I used to secretly steal money from the monopoly bank when we’re about to go bankrupt so as to avoid the shame of losing and getting ridiculed/booed at by our opponents. I laughed silently as I shook my head in pity of our cunning ways and antics back in the days.

On opening the board and spreading it wide on my bed, something on the board caught my eyes immediately. It’s the magnificent photo of the Lagos Island waterfront at sunrise. The lights from the buildings glowed in golden tones as a hundred beautifully-poised skyscrapers towered across the skyline and the Apapa creek waters sprawling in a soothing navy-blue gradient across the foreground. The base of the picture was then feathered into the picture of the Lagos Civic Centre and Five Cowrie Creek at dusk. I uncontrollably fell in love with the board, and swept my eyes through the various landing sites on the board. The ones that interested me most were Banana Island -because it is the most  expensive property on the board, Ilashe Beach- because it’s on my list of “must-visit” Island-getaways in Lagos; the Lagos Yacht Club- because of the amazing patterns and colourful arrays formed by the spear-shaped sails of the yachts as they drift graciously on the wavy Apapa waters;  and Makoko- because it’s the cheapest, yet most inspiring and thought-invoking site on the board.

The Lagos Monopoly game unconsciously builds and enriches our knowledge of Lagos as well as emphasises the worth of its various location segments. It appraises the high-brow areas, and simultaneously reminds us of the areas that needs more protection and development. The more you play the Lagos monopoly, the more you’ll fall in love with this beautiful city and will want to explore its length and breadth.

– The Lagos Monopoly pack.

– The card rack.

– “Chance!!”

– A landing site you don’t wanna be! loll

– Family playing the Lagos Monopoly over drinks at Terra Kulture, Lagos.

– Winner (in green) of Lagos Monopoly game competition held during Social Media Week Lagos, hosted by Lost in Lagos.

Favourite landing sites on the Lagos Monopoly board:

- “Ilashe beach… because it’s on my list of island getaways in Lagos I want to visit…” (Picture source: www.casailashe.com)

- Ilashe Beach. (Picture source: www.casailashe.com)

– Yachts docked at the Lagos Yacht club.

- “…the amazing patterns and colourful arrays formed by the spear-shaped sails of the yachts as they drift graciously on the wavy Apapa waters…”

– “Makoko… because it’s the cheapest, yet most inspiring and thought-invoking site on the board.”  (Picture source: www.localyte.com)

 
- “Banana Island -because it is the most  expensive property on the board.”

 
- Banana Island, Ikoyi. (Picture source: www.business-travel-nigeria.com)

I’ve been to many top-class restaurants in Lagos, but Bogobiri blew me off my coast…sailed me atop blissful waters of satiating ambiance and invigorating aroma of dainty delicacies… with interiors and exterior set in a stylish medley of artistic yet bohemian ingredients…it was as though I dined in a restaurant-museum.

The soaring sun gently slid behind a pillow of clouds as we approached Bogobiri Restaurant. Our bellies bounced with ecstasy in anticipation of a timely lunch which awaited us.

At No. 7, Maitama-Sule Street in Ikoyi, the fence and walls of the restaurant greeted us with an alluring collage of painted and unpainted snail shells, sculptures of metal strips and boards of a dismantled Dánfó bus (body of a Lagos public bus), all set in a background of brick and granite stone pillars. Within its premises sit well stocked art and craft shops which sell local products and souvenirs sourced from various corners of the country.

The restaurant is made up of two buildings, each housing a restaurant and a set of guest rooms. The stunning assemblage of artistic and rustic ornamental effects bedecks the furnishing and interiors of the restaurants and can be seen in its eye-catching chairs, cushioned benches, sofas, tables and stools- all with heavy sculptures of African reliefs and patterns and made from inventive mix of raw timber, straw, jute, rocks and leather materials sourced from within the country. There are also bars and corners for jazz bands within the restaurants.

A peek into the all-air conditioned guest rooms left me extremely dazzled. The rooms are impressive extensions of the creativity expressed in other parts of the restaurant, but with a greater touch of panache and sophistication. The supreme suite features a hypnotizing mattress and duvet set in a strong frame of polished bamboo and sculptured timber, a bed-side bench of wood and firmly sewn leather cushion, two heavily sculpted sitting chairs and a circular table of glass fixed on a wooden pillar and held in place by turns of jute rope, bathroom and toilet of transparent sliding glass doors and wall finishing of snail shells, warm lighting and many more. Other suites are also bedecked with remarkable artistic interior finishing and furnishings.

We were treated to a lunch of steaming hot and spicy Jollof rice with colourful garnishing, fried chicken, fried fish, fried plantain and the original Bogobiri pepper sauce. After the meal, while relaxing at the bar with a bottle of cold water, framed portraits and stage photos of the ace high-life musician, Fatai Rolling-Dollars fed my eyes and tugged at my memories. "I love this place!" I thought to myself. The treat was more like that which a traditional king enjoys in his lofty palace.

We left Bogobiri with a deep feeling of relish, our bellies being exceedingly satiated from the bounties of the enthralling Bogobiri Restaurant. Bogobiri is by far the most Africanized restaurant and hotel in ‘Gidi city. Everything within its complex promotes indigenous products and arts. You’ll either Love it or Hate it.

Thinking of giving your spouse, family, friends or business associates a nice treat or hangout… Bogobiri is an option you don’t want to miss.

You can contact Bogobiri at www.bogobiri.com

- …the fence and walls of the restaurant greeted us with an alluring collage of painted and unpainted snail shells, sculptures of metal strips and boards of a dismantled Dánfó bus…

- …all set in a background of brick and granite stone pillars…

– “Within its premises sit well stocked art and craft shops which sell local products and souvenirs sourced from various corners of the country…”

-  “The stunning assemblage of artistic and rustic ornamental effects bedecks the furnishing and interiors of the restaurants and can be seen in its eye-catching chairs, cushioned benches, sofas, tables…”

- “… There are also bars and corners for jazz bands within the restaurants.”

- Climbing upstairs to the guest rooms.

- Magnificent Oil paintings wall the lobby…

- “The supreme suite features a hypnotizing mattress and duvet set in a strong frame of polished bamboo and sculptured timber, a bed-side bench of wood and firmly sewn leather cushion…”

- “…bathroom and toilet of transparent sliding glass doors and wall finishing of snail shells, warm lighting…”

- “Other suites are also bedecked with remarkable artistic interior finishing and furnishings.”

– “We were treated to a lunch of steaming hot and spicy Jollof rice with colourful garnishing, fried chicken, fried fish, fried plantain and the original Bogobiri pepper sauce.”

– “…while relaxing at the bar with a bottle of cold water, framed portraits and stage photos of the ace high-life musician, Fatai Rolling-Dollars fed my eyes and tugged at my memories. "I love this place!" I thought to myself.”

Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri, Bogobriri,

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The Lagos You Don’t See: A Whitespace, Ikoyi, where we connected back with an ancient Nigeria

In a two-storey building posed on the sands of Ikoyi,
Resides a white space, hidden yet open to you and me,
A space, thought we, would be empty,
Just one step in, and swallowed we were, deeper into its belly,
Thrown back, drawn back in history,
We saw a Nigeria we missed,
Oh Yes! We reminisced.

In photos and paintings, both coloured and black & white,
In furniture of bamboo, straw and finishes of local print textiles,
In lamp-holders, pillows, stools and benches- all made from local materials…
We saw the Nigeria of our fore-fathers,
A Nigeria we all yearn to bring back.

A Whitespace, located at No. 58, Raymond Njoku Crescent, Ikoyi, takes the look of a regular residential building, but have been creatively transfigured by Lost in Lagos into a multi-media exhibition space for visitors seeking to get lost in the beautiful city of Lagos. Lost in Lagos is an organization that aims to help visitors to Lagos discover the city with its comprehensive directory of restaurant’s, shops and more.

A beautiful and neat set of bamboo benches and tables welcomed us as we entered the premises of the building, and Tannaz Etebarian Bahnam, the beautiful and gorgeous founder of Lost in Lagos, with a pleasant smile ushered us into the belly of her creatively crafted Whitespace.

After collecting numerous old photos of different people and places in Nigeria, documenting the everyday life of Nigerians, Lost in Lagos decided to make them up into a beautiful collage called "The Nostalgia Project". Standing before this huge collage, one cannot but be overwhelmed by the beams of reminiscent light exuding from the photos, as one is uncontrollably thrown back in time to the Nigeria of 1950s-1970s. The scenes included family photos, graduation photos, high school sporting events, election campaign photos, people in rural areas, wedding ceremonies, old posters, several portraits of military and traditional people, photos of old currencies etc. The characters in the photos appear happy, peaceful, promising, confident and contented. The men wore afro hair styles with ‘partings’, ‘conductor’ shirts, ‘trumpet-shaped’ trousers, Agbádá and boogie shoes. The women dressed gorgeously and neatly with lovely flowing ball gowns, traditional Ìró and Bùbá and boogie shoes.

Another collage on display featured scenes from different places and people in Lagos. It is a multi-media gallery show-casing the various sights in the city, such as shopping scenes, fashion, beaches, self portraits, markets, parks, public tricycles (Kèké Márwá), Dánfó (public buses), foods, restaurants, schools, post-office etc. taken and submitted by people through their mobile phones. The collage as well as a number of paintings on the walls aim to show the influence of social media on the lives of people in the city of Lagos.

We kept snapping and tweeting away photos of the Whitespace as we moved from one room to another, thanks to the efficient and free wifi network within the building. We left A Whitespace with a deep sense of appreciation of Nigeria’s past, better understanding of the present and a hope that the diminishing cultural values that sustained and held the ancient Nigerian society can be brought back.

We stepped back into the sun-tanned street and strolled down to our next stop which is a few doors away from A Whitespace.

– Walking towards A Whitespace…

- The Nostalgia Project.

- Tannaz talking about the painting in the background… “Social media in ancient Nigeria.”

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A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace, A whitespace,  whitespace