Written by Nifemi
I have a lot of not-so-peculiar things to be grateful for about my human experience. One of these things is the ability to detach myself from the collective, stand at a mental corner, and quietly observe humanity and its fascinating patterns. My ego says it’s hyperintelligence; that somehow, I have found a way to detach myself from the matrix and its gripping claws. My demons say it’s residual trauma; that it’s from years of being a wallflower and never feeling like I belong anywhere. Naturally, that shapes you into a keen observer. My higher self has been suspiciously quiet about it. I guess it’s supposed to be one of those lessons I learn by myself for personal development or some other shit like that. Or maybe I’m just not listening hard enough.
Whatever it is, it’s a blessing I’m starting to be grateful for.
It is because of this blessing that I’m hyperaware of collective energy and how they behave.
December in Lagos, Nigeria, is famously an “oblee“ time. Now, people like us (proper Lagos raveheads) are familiar with the party scenes, but there are others who are not like us for different valid reasons. People who are confined to desks from 9 to 5. People who apologise for fun. People who have a different definition of fun. People who are simply… not fun.
But December is different, though. In December, everybody is fun or is cosplaying fun. There is a collective energy shift in performance. In posturing. In wanting to be there too. It’s something in the air, I’m sure. The performance is in the exuberant display of “Oblee1” hangouts and concert pictures. In shooting over-edited, premeditated but ‘casual’ pyjamas pictures. Posting concert stories. Flaunting money. Prices of everything go up. IJGB2 guys are around. Festivity is in the air. Caution is for the winds. Traffic is hectic. Everybody is outside. People are even more generous. There is a thickness in the “want to be there too” vibe. Normal people would call it FOMO, but this is on steroids. And this will be fine for regular partygoers, but it seems like everybody caught the bug. It’s not a good thing. It’s not a bad thing either. It just is.
There is a surge in the performance of wealth, in the performance of “doing good too”, and in the performance of “life is beautiful for me too, and I’m not to be left behind”. There is carelessness; there is recklessness. There is a letting-loose-and-it’ll-all-be-fine vibration. And I suppose that’s a good thing. People need to let loose once in a while. The matrix has taken so much from us; it owes us this illusion.
1 Oblee is a Nigerian slang word for partying.
2IJGB (I just got back) is the Nigerian slang for people in the diaspora who came for detty December in Nigeria.
But performance is a parasite: it sucks away the beauty of being in the moment and leaves a hollow mask of “Does this look good enough for my nonexistent haters?”
It’s January, and things are starting to settle down. People are dragging their legs about returning to work. People who went to the village have to return to the hustle and bustle. Life is turning on its head, but not quite as before. The air has shifted from “Me sef no carry last” to “I need to lock in,” and people are indeed locking in. But there’s a performance about it—the performance of productivity. There is, like, a need to show that I’m not a failure too; I’m doing something with my life. The collective energy is so interesting when you are watching from an objective standpoint. New Year’s resolutions. Cries and shivers in the church. Loud groaning. Requests. Requests. People set a deadline of a year and swear to stand by it. Until June, at least, when fatigue sets in and motion and patterns set in, and now, it’s just a set of habits and muscle memory. But right now, there’s something else in the air—hope. And hope is a beautiful thing to feel. Especially on a collective vibration level. People think every beginning of the year is the year they make it, and when a collective feels it so strongly, you can almost taste the energy on your lips.
The energy is shifting. The energy has shifted. Again. Collectively.
February is less than a month away. Hope will give way to desire. To distraughtness; to comparison. There shall be performances again. Performance of love. Performance of being chosen. Lovers will whine and fuss over the quality and quantity of Valentine’s gifts. Packages will be out, left, right, and centre. Pictures. Photoshoots. Engagements. Social media. Performance. Posturing. And this will probably be the worst, because performance of wealth is one thing, but performance of love? When will we be enough? I ask this as a part of the human race too. When do we stop chasing external validation? Do we? What is the desperate need to prove to the world that we are doing okay too? That we are loved enough. That we are rich enough. Enough compared to whom?
Over that, though, there will be love. Valentine’s is when you look at your lover in a new light. The perfection of her that has been dulled by proximity and familiarity over the years illuminates again. Everyone is talking about their lovers; you’ll look at yours too and find something beautiful to say too, no matter how hard it is. Your side chick may be more beautiful and bounce her body parts in the right places, but the wife of your youth deserves something too. For you and for her. Valentine is when you remember what love feels like. Or at least, get an echo of it.
I suppose it’s a good thing. Performance is the love child of competitiveness. The feeling of not wanting to be left behind ties intricately with the feeling of wanting to be better than others, or to look
better, at least. I suppose performance is a necessary evil – humans wouldn’t be humans without it. Performance – competition – is what makes the world go in a loop. Competition against our brothers, against our neighbours, against our old selves. Competition is a necessary fuel in the engine of the universe. So, it’s a beautiful thing that we are able to challenge ourselves. That we have these options of collective shift. That we are able to transcend from one energy to another. That we are able to feel alive and feel dead. That light and darkness exist in us, all at the same time. That we can be a collective even in our individuality. What a blessing!
