Babe, How Far Nah?

“Babe, how far nah?” Chinonso’s voice was always the same when she invited me to some random party we had no business attending. Simple, direct, and full of promise.

Her sister’s boyfriend worked as a printer. Whenever he printed invite-only wedding cards for high-profile weddings, he often printed extra. One for himself, one for Chinonso’s sister, and sometimes, if luck was on our side, one for me. The eternal tag-along.

Tonight’s call was about an 80th birthday party for the mother of one of the biggest banking moguls in the country.

“We’re really lucky, Osas. I don’t think Emma even knows how important this man is,” Chinonso said, referring to her sister’s boyfriend as excitement bubbled in her voice.

I sighed, uninterested in the fine details. I didn’t care about banking bigwigs or their birthdays. I just wanted to crash a party, eat well, drink till I forgot tomorrow existed, and maybe, if the gods smiled, stuff some naira, or even better, dollar notes down my bra and pretend I belonged.

“Shey you get money for Bolt?” she suddenly asked.

I blinked. “Money for Bolt? No be together we go gather pay for the Bolt?”

“No be like that o. I don’t have much on me for the Bolt, and we need to get there in a Bolt. Do you have money or not?” She was issuing a mini threat, the kind that said pay up or forget the party.

I quickly googled the banking bigwig’s name. Billions in revenue popped up in the first three searches. If there was any chance of us benefiting from tonight, it was worth the risk.

“Oya, I will pay, but we go need enter bus to Obalende first and book Bolt from there, so we have enough for the ride back,” I suggested.

She was appeased. We agreed to meet at WAEC bus stop Yaba by 11:30 pm, board the bus together to Obalende, and from there take a Bolt to the venue in Ikoyi.

---

The day was sweltering, the Lagos heat sticky and relentless. As we waited for the bus to fill up, my armpits itched through the purple lace blouse I’d borrowed from my sister. The colour was the event’s theme — purple lace — and if we were going to gatecrash, we’d look the part. Chinonso gave me the rundown of what to expect at the party: champagne, old money, maybe some politicians. But for me, it was simple: look rich, act rich, eat rich.

The bus rattled to life, jostling through the familiar chaos and stench of Lagos. Obalende came into view as the bus trudged downwards. We carefully clutched our phones and wallets as we booked our Bolt.

The driver pulled up to a grand mansion lit up like what sweet dreams are made of. Soft music floated out into the humid night air. We stepped out, adjusting our lace dresses.

The gates to the mansion opened slowly, guarded by two burly security men whose eyes scanned us like hawks.

“Invitation card?” one asked sharply.

Chinonso flashed her best smile and pulled out the glossy purple card — the golden ticket we’d been blessed with by fate.

The guard sized us up, taking in our cheap weave that we had straightened and curled and smattered with several conditioners to give it a glossy look. He stared at my shoes and I prayed the fading leather running down the soles wasn’t obvious. I fidgeted but Chinonso stared boldly back at him.

“Enjoy the party,” he finally grunted as he stepped aside.

Chinonso hissed as we stepped in, muttering about how he was only here because he works as a bouncer and yet has the audacity to look down on us. The scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne hit me instantly. The garden was alive with laughter, glittering lights, and the soft thud of Afrobeat mixed with smooth jazz.

I looked at Chinonso, my eyes wide in amazement, “Babe, this is epic!”

She laughed, “Exactly! Remember, confident face but first let’s find the ladies and clean up.”

“Excyuze mei. Excyuze mei.” Chinonso beckoned at an usher. “Could yew be noiz to show me where the convenience is pleiz?” she said in exaggerated Queen’s English.

“Huhn?” The usher said.

“The convenience. The laydies rewm? The bahthrewm?” She continued talking with her mouth wide opened as her nose flared.

“The restroom please,” I said, getting irritated with the act.

“Oh,” the usher smiled at me in appreciation, perhaps terrified she was goofing at her job and messing up an important person’s evening. She directed us and as we walked down Chinonso switched to our natural accent and hissed through clenched teeth, “What is wrong with you Osas nah? We need to fully act this part.”

“Ehn but noh be usher you suppose dey form for nah, see as the girl dey sweat.”

We got into the toilet in time and touched up our makeup. Wiped out our armpits and reapplied the pocket perfumes we had on our armpits. Masking the smell of grime, sweat and chaos of the danfo we took halfway. We were about to start posing for mirror selfies when a middle-aged woman smelling strongly of an expensive perfume stepped in. She smiled at us and waddled inside the toilet. Our picture taking was short-lived as the smell of her perfume couldn’t mask the smell of what was coming out of her belly.

Once outside again, we wove through groups of richly dressed guests in different shades of purple, feeling like small fishes in a sea of sharks wearing Cartiers, Swarovskis, Montblancs and Marottos. Everyone was laughing, clinking glasses, and snapping photos.

A waiter passed by, offering champagne flutes. Chinonso grabbed one, and I followed suit, trying not to look like the only one who didn’t belong.

“Babe, did you see that guy in the corner?” Chinonso whispered. “The one with the Rolex and the eyes like he’s judging us.”

I nodded, heart racing. “If he asks who we are, just say ‘friends of the family.’ Works every time.” She said.

The real test came when a group approached us. They were five men, well-dressed, laughing too loud, clearly used to this luxury and looking like they were not forcing themselves as we were.

“Ladies, you look stunning tonight. What’s your name?” A tall man asked, his gaze sharp but amused.

Chinonso smiled wide, “I’m Chinonso, and this is Osas. We’re… friends of the family.”

The man’s eyes flickered, as if he could sense a lie but his amusement only deepened. “Well, friends, enjoy the night. The birthday girl loves making new friends.”

He looked like he was about to say something but someone came to whisper in his ear and he bowed slightly and left with his entourage.

Relief washed over me.

---

As the night deepened, I found my purpose, sneaking bites from the buffet, snagging leftover bottles of wine and hiding them in my tote bag, and laughing at garishly dressed folks at the party. I was bemused at how gaudy some rich people could be. I used to think access to wealth and wealth itself has a way of moulding and refining you over time.

As if she could sense my thoughts, the object of my fascination approached us, her heavily lidded eyes were red and her breath reeked of liquor.

“You girls look amazing. Where did you get your outfits?”

“Ah, thank you! We actually got them custom-made,” hinonso said smoothly. Always saving the day.

“Hmmm.” She looked us over again and faced me this time. “Are you a model?”

“Erhm, actually I, uhm…” Chinonso couldn’t jump in to rescue me. She was already having an animated conversation with a scrawny looking man who looked like the evil Nigerian twin of Giancarlo Esposito. I was all alone.

The woman with the heavily lidded eyes raised her brows and I lied instead. “Yes yes. I model.”

“Interesting. Editorials? Runway? Face? I think you would do greatly with face modelling. Runways can be so hectic and such a bore. Don’t you think so Pasha?” She said to no one but a thin white man with vibrant blue eyes appeared as if out of thin air. His eyes bore into me as hers did. His nose looked like they could pierce me in the eye if I made a sudden movement. My heart was racing. This was not what I planned. I just came to gatecrash and eat and pack enough to eat at home and pack money getting sprayed…

“Vell yes. Wiz dey right makeup and jewelry she do fine.” Pasha said in thick East European accent. The woman with heavily lidded eyes gave me her card and told me to call her. I will call her. It was an order.

Giddy with excitement I tried to look for Chinonso in the sea of crowd. She had left to God knows where with the scrawny man. The guy with the judgy eyes approached our table and sat beside me.

I pretended not to notice him until he spoke. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Don’t think I am fooled.”

My heart beat violently against my chest. Image of me getting dragged and tossed into a police van for gatecrashing a rich man’s mother party and stealing food that was meant for others flashed through my eyes. Instablog caption of “Slay Queen makes the whole of Lagos cheer as they miraculously appeared at banking bigwig Femi Tola-Briggs party.”

“You were my soulmate in a previous life. Now you reincarnated and you are here.” He said and smiled cheekily.

“Oh.” I said gathering my thoughts. So, the foolish boy likes me and he made my heart somersault like that? I laughed dryly thanking the God my mother diligently serves. He began to talk about how Nigeria bores me and he can’t stay in the country for months. He asked me what I think of Monaco as a summer destination or do I prefer The Hamptons. I was confused at most of what he was saying so I only Oh-ed, Wow-ed and Amazed all he was saying. He didn’t seem to notice he kept talking and I kept listening. Suddenly he said, “You should come along for our summer trip. Its Dad’s PJ but we should be able to cover your expenses.”

“Ehn?”

“Just as friends. My friend group is missing a lady. Our lady friends got hitched back-to-back last year. Currently we are down to one lady and she is white and can be such a bore. Imagine her hating Afrobeats? Who doesn’t like Afrobeats?”

He prattled on. I scanned the garden again for Chinonso but she was decidedly missing. I smiled at him again.

“My friend…”

“She can come too, it’s fine.”

He went on about a series of things, which mostly sounded like complaints about his family, until someone came to pull him away for family photos. But he made sure to add me on Snap before he left.

I was giddy. What was going on?

Chinonso sauntered over a few minutes later, her face shining with sweat. She looked flushed with happiness.

“Guess what?”

“What!” I said in a voice higher than normal.

“I think I just secured an interior decor contract. Remember that weird man I was talking with? We went over to where his friends were, and they asked what I do. The conversation led to one of them needing their home decorated and just like that—” she snapped her fingers.

She also showed me wads of dollars she received from the man and his card.

“Omo… we are balling o!” I said with feverish excitement.

Minutes later, we heard pandemonium. Word filtered across that some uninvited people had been admitted, and they were rescreening guests, especially those not in visible office or social circles.

I clenched Chinonso’s hand tightly as the bouncers moved towards our table, but like a deus ex machina waiting for the perfect moment to show his hand, the amused man joined us.

“My friends,” his voice boomed, “hope we are having a nice night?”

We chorused, “Yes, sir,” and he grinned before moving to another table to ask the same question.

The bouncer moved away, and Chinonso and I breathed a sigh of relief.

She told me to book our Bolt back home, that we had had enough.

My fingers hovered over the Bolt app. My eyes were losing focus. I could hear the annoying sound of what felt like a grinding machine. Everything turned musty, distant, like the night itself was slipping through my fingers.

And then clarity hit.

The room sharpened.

I wasn’t at a party.

It was a hot afternoon, and I was in my apartment in PalmGrove. My neighbor’s generator was the devil that yanked me out of my fantasy. The heat sat heavy on my skin. I hissed, flung the pillow at the wall, and cursed my luck. Why did it have to be a dream? The money, the soft lighting, the stranger’s amused eyes, Chinonso’s excitement. Private Jet! All of it!!!

My phone began to vibrate. I groaned and picked it up, my temples already pounding with a headache.

“What?” I snapped.

“Babe, how far nah. I dey outside.”