Dancing On The Streets Of Lagos

I have never been much of a dancer. Usually, when a good song comes my way, I simply nod my head. If I look around, and find no one paying any attention to my fat fair self, then I suspiciously move my feet, slowly and discreetly. Please stop staring! I’m shy.

Maybe I had a medical condition that made me feel an overwhelming sense of fear and shame, or I was a psychological prisoner of ‘. Yep. That means the fear of dancing. Smart Joey Akan.

But then I moved to Lagos, and the spirit of Michael Jackson came upon me. Lagos is the land of weirdoes, Agberos, dirty policemen, Alomo, whores, music, and dancing. Getting into the city, and being dumped squarely in the heart of Nigerian entertainment, felt like Alice in Wonderland. Or rather, Joey in Dancerland.

Turn to anywhere in Lagos and you’re sure to catch a man or some woman (but mostly men. Drunk, hungry and angry men) moving their body to the rhythm of Davido’s ‘Aye’. The streets, churches, nightclubs, bus terminals, corporate offices, markets, and malls, have not been spared. They have all invaded by dancing fanatics.

Here’s how they dance.

In the corporate offices, the dancing is a bit chill and classy. The tush people over there really do need dancing lessons. They move their bodies like they’re scared of losing their salary. They don’t inspire much in me.

In the streets, the dancing is scary. Angry frustrated youths, stuck in their ways and hood, sip on some cheap local alcohol with enough poison to reduce their life span, (if they want to drink expensive, then it never gets higher than beer. Star, preferably). These dudes, high and angry, begin to dance ike the spirit of Michael Jackson is upon them. Once I saw one who balanced on his head, and did a spin. Awesome!

I once brought out my smartphone to record a drunk dancing session, but quickly withdrew it when they stopped dancing and began to chase me. I would have outran Usain Bolt on that day. Lesson well taught, I learnt quickly.

In the clubs, everything goes. People get high, get inspired, and dance like their lives depend on it. When Hennessy, Jack Daniels, Beldevere and Moet get into your system, it’s hard to resist the devil. I have seen a man dance for 6 hours, with his eyes closed, after getting a good high at the The weekly Pulse VIP Night at ‘The Place”, Victoria Island.

With all of these around me, and a lot of inspiration anywhere I turn, I have become what an American will call a ‘dance junkie’. People get high on the good drugs such as cocaine, marijuana, meth and LSD, but I get a good high from dancing like a mad Sufi dervish and screaming my voice hoarse.

You can see that from the photo above. That’s me, dancing to Davido’s Aye, with my white hankie. Who does that? Only a high Joey Akan.

I am a better man today. My Chorophobia is gone, and my white hankie has arrived. How about you? Dance to a good song today. Let go of all your inhibitions and pent up emotions. Dance until your brain sways and claps. You will surely get a good high. Thank me later.

Peace & Good hustle. See you next Tuesday.