Monday Dinner Meetings

Every time I think about my life in Nigeria which has sadly become my reality, I sometimes read about my past, of what was once my reality and what a fun illuminating reality that was. Times it is hurtful and has been the root of most of my disdain and discontent, but it is inevitable. I had a life and it was explicitly different from what it is now. It was (I daresay) better. 

On one such occasions, I stumbled upon this post from a lady I used to see at events, launches and whatnots. A lady who was about my age, a Vegan who had spent the previous year before our chance meeting traveling Asia solo, backpacking. She had cause to speak of her travels at one of our meetings. She mentioned how she had had an accident on her bike and was laying on the side of the road, until someone found her and took her to a hospital. I just thought that was so brave. I had just returned from a solo trip to New York and Miami and that adventure paled in comparison to hers. 

So halfway into our event and her captivating narration, tired of the cheap wine, she invited me to her Monday dinner group with a group of friends. 

Every Monday, a group of friends get together to break bread at a different restaurant in town, sample a different type of cuisine - Vietnamese, Indian, Moroccan, Greek, you name it. She asked me to come along and how could I refuse, you know how I love to eat and after all that cheap wine I could use some good food. So I went and had a blast at this hole in the wall Vietnamese restaurant eating the freshest, tastiest Vietnamese food and laughing with her friends- who were so cool by the way for letting me crash their millennial pseudo-dinner party. They were a mix but mainly young professionals. Those that had traveled talked about their worldly travels delicately so as not to seem to brag. Those that hadn't talked about their love for food and international cuisine even if it were to be found locally. I enjoyed how refreshing it felt. To not be judged (as the only black person) or as the foreigner, I was actually welcomed since it meant I had actual worldly experience. The only issue was that the leader who often had to find a different restaurant every week got involved with work and with time, I was the one asking, "Are we still meeting? If so, where?" Then, the invites stopped. Or maybe I was cut off, who knows. All these happened before the advent of Social Media by the way, so he had to physically talk to certain restaurants and convince them to accommodate a group of 10 people or more, and if possible, offer discounts. Then, he would send out an email to everyone in the group advising them of the new location. Intense!!

I've often thought about introducing such a dinner group to Lagos. But the egos, man. How do we contain the egos? These are subtle glaring differences which I notice, miss, and remember fondly.

My life in Nigeria. Chapter 2020.