This book reads somewhere between a novel and a collection of short stories; however, I do not know that I can call it either. It is hard to call it the former because the plots did not precisely coincide toward a thematic piece. I can’t call it the latter because some of the sole stories are pretty weak and honestly superfluous; (the story of Thomas and Uncle Anjos, Under The Third Mainland Bridge, Night Wind), so it is not a virtuoso collection. I was not so invested in many of the characters because there wasn’t enough depth for me to care, and I wasn’t sure I would reencounter them later in the book. The “grande finale” that should have tied all loose ends of the stories felt a bit rushed and did not give me the satisfaction that I would expect from a book that boasts of an “unexpectedly joyous conclusion.” It seems Eloghosa was going for a montage effect where the individual pieces make a whole. I would say it was partly achieved only because Tatafo had chapters dedicated to them to give us a better understanding of the struggles of vagabonds in Lagos and how Èkó treated them.
Now to the fun part.
I rated this book a solid 3.75/5. Despite the negatives, Eloghosa still managed to marvel me with her brilliant writing. From the prologue (“There are simple and good and straightforward and well-behaved people, I’m sure. But this book is not about them”), to personalizing Èkó, to the narrations of Tatafo (the blabbermouth, gossip gatherer, and minder of all businesses for Èkó), and the depiction of the hell on earth lives of queer people living in Lagos, Nigeria.
Èkó: The EYE.
“The eye is a city; this eye na Lagos. Èkó. This eye is a gossip, a hypocrite. An eye is naturally unfillable, yes. But this is an overpopulated, opinionated, twenty-one-million-bodied eye. A famished eye. This is an eye full of lies, full of mouths, full of secrets, full of death. And dem no dey take us play because we plenty inside this eye.”
If you are Nigerian, you already know what Èkó refers to. Èkó is a city in Nigeria, popularly known as Lagos, sometimes Lasgidi. In this book, Eloghosa creatively characterizes the city of Lagos, which is one thing that drew me closer to vagabonds.
“Èkó, the senior trickster, the melting pot in the sun, the overseer of all, the one who watches the underside of night; Lagos, the plain-mad, plain-fun, plain-loved; and LasGidi, the one with arrogance in its gait, who glimmers under strobe lights, who throws open the loudest nights. Together they are a godhead, three in one.”
Vagabond (n)
Definition [Nigerian]: “Any male/female person who dresses or is attired in the fashion of a woman/man in a public place or who practices sodomy as a means of livelihood or as a profession” is a vagabond.
Gross Indecency
Are you gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or a cross-dresser, and you live in Lagos?
Well, sorry to inform you that this city is ruthless and unkind to those who choose to publicly display their queerness. The country herself, is ruthless and unkind to displays/expressions of queerness. As a queer person myself, I would know, having lived the ruthlessness before leaving the country. Especially after the law criminalizing queerness was passed in 2014. Now, if you have money, and I mean the kind of money that mother earth bows down to, kudi, ego, owo tabua, then even the godhead that is the combination of Èkó, Lagos, and LasGidi has no choice but to bow down to you. In the book, Owo(money) summoned Èkó and stoned him with a vault as soon as he appeared. “I’m not your mate in that realm!” he bellowed. What he said in Yoruba can be translated as, “Don’t you ever come to me that way. You don’t go to visit the king with a crown on your own head.” That’s to say for where money dey, Èkó no be hin mate. So to cut a long story short, being queer in Èkó is trouble, except you know how to keep your head down, or you know your way to the underground spaces where you can be among your kind and just be who you are.
[SPOILERS AHEAD]
The story of Mr. H, a dealer, a harvester, of human organs was quite heartbreaking because he turned to this job after he lost his mother in a surgery room due to a power outage in the hospital.
Johnny moved from Uyo to Lagos to work for Mr. H and lost his love down the line.
Wura Blackson, a solid and talented fashion designer, one of her kind, lost her life to a life-threatening disease and couldn’t be with the woman she loved in the end.
You’re probably wondering what these stories have to do with being queer, abi? You’d have to find that out by reading the book. I’ll let you be the judge.
Lastly, will I recommend this book? Yes
Will I be reading something from Eloghosa in the future? Absolutely.
Opmerkingen