1. Ameboism

From “Lagos is a trap“.

You’d think that gossip is for people in the rural areas, who carry baskets on their heads to the farm and gossip all the way to and fro the journey. But, it is not. I am sure you are not surprised, because even social media is a safe space for things that should ordinarily not leave a bedroom. 

Amid the chaos that characterises a bustling city like Lagos, you’d find the gossip merchants. They are strategically self-placed everywhere. Sometimes you think they have to be as jobless as people who dress up to go to newspaper stands or boli point to spend half the day. Again, I am sure you are not surprised: they are also professionals like you and I. 

They’d gossip in danfo through their way to the office, gossip at the office with their colleagues, gossip with the security guards and office assistants, gossip with the people who live on the same street, gossip in their houses. Half the time it is through their phones. They’d giggle and laugh like ogbanjes and emeres as they read responses to their messages. Sigh. I am tired too. Ah! I have an example. 

When I was younger and I saw those landlords and landladies on their balconies expecting even lizards and cats to greet them – Ekaaro ooo (PS: it must be loud) – I always wanted the balcony to give way, so they would fall and lose their voice somehow. 

Ah! You are wicked, you thought I was going to wish they died? I can’t wish the parents of my neighbours, cousins and friends dead now. 

But, there’s this woman in my estate who knows everyone’s story. The guy who smokes in his room, the married woman sleeping with a married man in the same estate, the wealthy man who got government contract by luck, the gay boy who should avoid her son (who also knows gay boys), the runs girl who does not have shame, the schoolboy who is not doing well with his studies, the young girl whose pussy is already public property. 

To be honest, I listened to some of the stories, but I sometimes wonder: what will I do with this information? Am I supposed to relate with the ‘culprit’ on a different level, or avoid the person altogether? This is not even a case of stones and casting. So, I stopped listening and even told her off when she told me about the girl who got married and slept with a man three weeks after. 

“Oh please, na you know everything.” 

She was pissed and started telling ‘my story’ to other people. Those ones would come to me and narrate my story to me. I had to tell those ones off too.

“Go and meet her to gossip, I am more concerned about my next meal, and how I’d pay for power et cetera et cetera.”

You would think that because everyone is hustling in Lagos, there should be less time for play. But, there is time, my brothers and sisters. In fact, in Lagos, there is more time for play than there is for the actual work. Lagos is comparable to the civil service where people watch TV most of the day, postpone actual work, want to irritate others and get home tired due to traffic; not the work. 

I could hit you anywhere around your groin if you say I am talking nonsense. Had it just been I know you. 

Would you tell me that I was dreaming when I heard Judy and Amaka in the very noisy club gossiping about one very slim dark-skinned singer? 

“I heard he is gay and the drugs are killing him.” 

“I cannot even deny that one. Look at the way he looks. But, I heard he has a big penis.” Judy responded, licking her lips. 

“You don’t mind that he’s gay?” 

“Oh please, can his big thing work or not?”

“What about if he dies? Look at the way he looks.”

“See ehn babe, you and I know slim guys are good in bed and they don’t die. I’d give him viagra.” 

“Okay then oo. But don’t forget to invite me for a threesome if you get him oo.”

Both laughed hard. Their voices were heard over the speakers.

“I heard he has one girlfriend. Dumb girl. It is either she knows he is gay and just clinging to him because he is a popular artist or she is just plain dumb.” Judy said with a slight sense of jealousy. 

“Something wey you go chop comot for there, you siddon like shigidi.” 

Both laughed again. 

“If she doesn’t know, his boyfriend is that tall actor that featured in that film.” 

“Which one?” 

“The premiere we attended now. They even attended together. You don forget?” 

“Oh!” Amaka screamed with her hand on her mouth. 

They continued talking about how this guy slept with another popular music producer, and started listing names of bisexual men and women in the entertainment industry. Like the woman in my estate, I listened and then I ran. You cannot taint my love for my favourite artist because you cannot stop gossiping. 

“No!” I said to myself and went outside to get some fresh air. Outside I heard these grown men talking about how one of the women in the Lagos Housewives show slept with the husband of another. 

I went home. 

I sometimes say to myself that Lagos is not a real place. Ahan! There’s this other man. 

He’s the estate’s most popular security man – gate man, if you asked me. Because men in black have visited twice now and did their jobs very smoothly. 

This security man, like the other woman, has all the information about what happens to everybody in the estate. You’d think the witch and the zombie are friends. Guess what? They are sworn enemies. 

In fact, they used to gossip about each other with me – that time when I cared to listen. 

This man once told me how long a girl stayed in my house and was passing comments about a sexual encounter. I was dumbfounded and wanted to break his head with the gate. But, he’s a zombie and zombies always die. At least, according to Hollywood. 

“Wetin concern you this man?” 

This man, older than my brother who is 20 years older, once saw me drive past in his area in Oworo and insisted I go and see where he stays. 

“Why?” I asked, feigning a laugh. 

He was simply excited and opened the car and immediately turned to a human map.

I got there and was reluctant to step out of the car. He insisted, but they were ‘boys’ in front of the house, so many of them I almost feared for my life. I followed him so those boys don’t begin to think things – don’t ask me. 

When I got into his one-bedroom apartment, the same size as my bathroom, I was disgusted. 

Clothes everywhere. A staunch smell. Wrappers of snacks and cans of drinks everywhere. I almost thought I was in a live Hollywood movie with those white boys who are either gamers or narcs or just plain dirty. 

I held my breath for as long as I could and faked an excuse to leave that place. 

“Haba! How can a human being sleep in that house?” 

I have not mentioned that the drainage is full of stagnant water and refuse. 

I endured that and this man went back to the estate and told his gossip mates that I visited him and drank the wine he kept for his girlfriend for Christmas day. 

“Which wine? Something I insisted he kept for himself? How’d I open my mouth for anything other than talking in that place. Tufiakwa!” 

I told myself I won’t confront him. Now, that’s my story and that is Lagos. 

The gossip culture in Lagos is more than just idle chatter; it’s a pervasive social phenomenon that affects individuals and communities in unimaginable ways. I mean, we have seen the penises and vaginas of both known and unknown figures in Lagos.

No doubt, gossip can serve as a social glue, binding communities together by shared narratives and mutual interests. However, it can also erode trust. When people become subjects of gossip, they may feel betrayed and isolated. This duality means that while gossip can create a sense of belonging among the gossipers, it simultaneously alienates the subjects of the gossip.

Let’s not even start with mental health. Individuals targeted by gossip may experience anxiety, stress, and a diminished sense of self-worth. The fear of becoming the next topic of conversation can lead to heightened paranoia and a constant state of self-monitoring, hindering genuine social interactions.

In the workplace, gossip can undermine professional relationships and productivity. It can create a toxic environment where mistrust and backstabbing are rampant. This not only affects morale but can also lead to decreased efficiency as employees spend more time engaged in or affected by gossip than in productive work.

Maybe gossip is just a coping mechanism though, a way to navigate and make sense of a rapidly changing and often harsh urban environment.