Everything in Nigeria Leaves a Stain

In the heart of London, as Tosin’s fingers delicately braided my hair, our thoughts wove together images of Lagos—its chaotic vibrancy, the relentless yearning for home, and the indelible marks Nigeria leaves on everyone and everything.

In my home in London, I passed Tosin strands of pitch-black, ‘colour one’ hair extensions while she excitedly shared her Lagos itinerary with me. On a sunny Saturday in July in Lagos (she dreamt that it would be sunny despite the rainy season) Tosin’s family would meet her fiancé’s family. Their introduction would be blessed and beautiful. When Tosin parted my hair into two equal parts, I asked whether she had forgotten how her fiancé looked since she had not seen him in 18 months. Suddenly, the brown wooden comb slid off her hands, but Tosin caught it mid-air gracefully, then said: ‘I can never forget his face, I can never forget his face because we are one, I look in the mirror in the morning and see his face and I know he dreams of my face in the evenings.’ 

Since Tosin moved to the United Kingdom for a better paying job as a nurse, she had saved £50 a month for her flight tickets to Lagos. Her yearning hope at seeing the love of her life was contagious as I began to think of a place, rather than a person that I too missed and had not seen in seven years...