adventures, annoying neighbours, city living, diary, lagos life, Lagos Living, Lagos Nigeria, living, living in lagos, living in nigeria, living in the city, neighbours, noisy neighbours, short stories
I was having a wonderful dream. I knew it was a dream because I had even complexion and also my lashes, nails and natural hair were long and healthy. My nonexistent-in-real-life boyfriend, whom I was about to engage in a very hot makeout session with was just my spec – tall, dark and inexplicably handsome with a lot of sexy to top it up. As you can tell, it was a good dream.
The said dream man (no pun intended) started running to me all excited. Since it was my dream, I changed the scene to a slow-mo type of situation. Chai! The dream was sweeting me. I couldn’t wait for this bobo to catch me. All of a sudden, my bobo’s footfall started sounding like a dinosaur was coming at me. Before I could think about what the heck that meant, the sound kept getting louder and louder until my mind could not sustain the dream and I woke up.
I know right, quite anticlimactic. Imagine how I felt waking up like that from that sweet dream. Here I was in bed with this thumping sound in my head trying to figure out why it seemed like someone was pounding yam in the middle of the night and then it hit me someone WAS pounding yam in the middle of the night. It was my upstairs neighbour.
Have you ever had noisy neighbours? You know them now. The types that will make sure they make a lot of noise when doing any and every type of activity. No matter what the activity, be it cooking, punishing their children, watching Nollywood movies, watching series, having sex and even watching porn, they will make said activity loud enough for the whole, apartment, compound, block, neighbourhood and local government to know that they are engaging in the activity.
No matter where I lived in Lagos, I have always had noisy neighbours. The first tiny apartment was beside a family that was supposedly related to the the local King of the area. When it was time for their fetish festivals, then the drumming and singing right by my bedroom window is something I will happily wish on my enemy. It was like I was part of the ritual. My cousin and I would move to sleep in the living room, to try to muffle the noise but for where! It never helped.
In my next apartment, my landlord and his wife decided they wanted to give their children daily lessons in how not to make a marriage work. Every one of their shouting matches was a lesson in how to insult and rain curses on people. It was like a Nollywood movie come to life. It’s not even funny how many types of insult and curses I picked up from that couple. Then on the days when they were quiet, their daughter was working on her musical career. Not that she didn’t have a nice voice oh, but mehn when she tried to hit those high notes, it reminded me why I don’t sing. In the night when I think it is all good the young, virile man, next door decides he wants to have a late night sex education class with porn. To give you an idea of how loud this bloody thing was in the middle of the night, this guy lived two doors away, I heard the tv from my own apartment. Even though you say, it was night-time, everywhere was quieter and whatever, it was too darn loud abeg.
Now fast forward to my current apartment. One of the neighbours a block away chases demons at midnight. He and his whole prayer warrior family do it loud enough for me to hear from my own house. The neighbour about two houses away occasionally beats the children as if they are armed robbers, and the children in turn wail like screaming banshees to alert everyone that they are being beaten. As the children are a bunch of stubborn little tykes, you can imagine that this happens quite regularly as koboko is needed to reset bad behaviour. Then, let’s not forget the reason for this post, my upstairs neighbour whose hubby likes to eat pounded yam after a night out doing whatever it is he does when he goes out.
So here I am lying in bed, awake from the pounding of pounded yam and can’t go back to sleep cos of the same pounded yam is not ready and they are still pounding.
Now I am thinking up a list of the noisiest and loudest friends and colleagues I know. I am thinking of throwing a loud af party in this apartment. I will call it the “Annoy The Neighbourhood Groove”.
After the party, me and God gonna have a chat about a nice apartment in a serviced oyinbo type estate!