Is Everybody In Lagos Into Blood Money?

My tears did not start until they brought out complimentary plantain chips and water.

I know you could be doing a thousand and one things instead of reading this email but it is really important that you do because can we sit down and talk about Lagos?

You don’t live in Lagos? Even better because maybe if you looked at the situation with external eyes, you’d be able to tell us what we’re doing wrong. And if, in fact, we exhibit ritualist behaviour in this state.

On Tuesday, when I was leaving my house, I had no idea Lagos restaurant owners were going to rob me in broad daylight. After my engagement for the day was done, I called up the guy I have a crush on and told him I was in his area but he was in a meeting and couldn’t make it to where I was. It was at this point that I was supposed to say, “Okay, bye bye o.”

But no. Never Hauwa. Because my brain is a 9-5 business. After 5 o'clock, sense is not in my dictionary again so how did I respond to his unavailability? I asked him to recommend a restaurant I could eat at.

“Try Jollof By Jara”, his message dropped. “It’s not far from where you are”

I had not heard of the place before but I decided to try it. Again, if my brain had not clocked out, it would have informed me that this crush makes more than I do and is probably not the kind of person one (especially if you’re broke) casually asks for suggestions.

But let’s move on.

When I got to the restaurant and the waiter started opening the door, peppering all his sentences with ‘Ma’am’, I knew trouble had come.

“Ma’am, would you like to sit here? Ma’am, is this your first time here? Ma’am, may I recommend something?”

Don’t call me ma'am. I am like a junior sister to you! Don’t use ma'am to collect my money. Be rude to me!

This boy continued to respectfully lead me to a seat.

The restaurant had African paintings, soft music, the brown and white theme reminded me of being on vacation in a french-speaking African country, incandescent bulbs strategically throughout the restaurant warmed up the room, momentarily taking my mind of the maddening chaos of the city. I started to sweat and swear for that boy that suggested the place. 

My tears did not start until they brought out complimentary plantain chips and water. Oh God, why me? Who did I offend this afternoon? Why is this happening to me? God, please fast track rapture. And make sure that my stupid crush does not ascend with us. Keep him downstairs and make Lion swallow him. I don’t know the logistics of rapture but I want a lion or hippopotamus to swallow him.

I chewed on the chips aggressively. 

“Would you like to order now, Maam?”, the waiter’s voice jolted me out of my reverie.

Sigh.

“Where is the menu?” I held a hand out.

With a soft smile, he said, “You can order online and even pay online”

GhenGhen.

It has happened to me. This boy has finally pushed me to be living a life I cannot afford. May two lions swallow him. 

I opened the menu and saw Nigerian, Ghanaian and Senegalese Jollof.

I first cancelled that Senegalese Jollof because I was seeing 10k for one plate. The Ghanaian jollof was also slightly over budget so I stuck to the Nigerian Jollof.

“This price. Is it only for the rice?”

Another smile with a nod. I wanted to konk his head.

The jollof was N5,000 without any protein. The grilled chicken cost another N4,000 while the croaker cost N6,000.

You may be wondering why I didn’t just leave.

A. I was really hungry and to be fair, looking for another restaurant may cost me transportation fare.

B. Have you seen Lagos’ sun? I couldn’t be roaming around in that. So, I sat put.

The food didn’t take too long before it came out. I have to give them that.

They placed the Jollof in front of me and helped me put the Nigerian flag on it to remind me that I could have been a big babe and ordered Senegalese jollof but I chose to stick to my broke ways and ordered the Nigerian so here was my flag.

I can’t stand that nonsense Nigerian flag.

For the money I paid for that Jollof, they should have printed a bigger flag for me. Go and carry flag from outside. I don’t care. 

I started eating and it pains me to say the food was actually quite good. The grilled chicken was just a little spicy but it was nice and tender.

While I was eating, I called that waiter to come and shoot a video for me because I can’t come to your restaurant to pay this kind of money and you will not work.

Press record, dear.

After I finished every grain of rice, I went home to cry.

I know N5,000 jollof may not be a lot but everyday I pass Jollof By Jara, I look at it knowing my money is still with them.

And so we come back to the question at hand, are Lagos people into money rituals? Because if they are, they need to start telling the rest of us. Don’t just be opening restaurants, open your mouth and let us know where we will find the money to be coming.

Review: 

Jollof By Jara - Great.

Just do small bank robbery before you come.

Tag them when you share this so they can lodge my complaint. 👍🏿