The Wailings of my new Neighbour

On a lazy Saturday afternoon, already bored with everything on DSTV, flipping past the same channels with the same boring repeated programs, I laid on my couch nibbling on plantain chips and wondering about my life. There was this deep, loud disturbing sound that kept interrupting my channel surfing and mindless thoughts. At first, I thought it was from the next compound, I tried to figure out what the sound was, was someone crying? was it a sexual sound? was someone been beaten or starved to death? was someone being raped? I moved around the house to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, it had lasted too long already and gotten even louder. Then I peeped through my window and saw two security men banging my neighbor's door, this neighbor was new and had moved in a few weeks ago, never knew who it was, male or female, a couple or an individual, but the horrifying sound was coming from the apartment and when the security men banged the door, the sound stopped. Weird stuff, I asked if they were certain the sound came from there and they confirmed that it did. A compound filled with expatriates and a few Nigerians, this was worrisome.

So I went back to mindlessly watching tv and thinking about what to do to get myself out of the funk I was in, so I decided to go to the pool downstairs. The weather was perfect for a swim, and the sun was just prepping to end its shift. I put on my swimsuit and headed for the pool where I had a great time and decided to eat the remaining ogbono soup in my refrigerator.

On my way back from the pool, about four hours had passed since the weird noise saga from my invincible neighbor's house. As I walked upstairs the sudden thought of someone committing suicide gripped me, I can't explain it, I tried to push it out of my mind, and I wasn't hormonal because it wasn't that time of the month, so this thought on suicide was not emotional, it was just front and center of my whole being at that point. What if the person in that house has committed suicide, what if? And the other neighbors don't care, everyone minds their business, but the Nigerian in me needed to find out if the person in that apartment was okay.

So I wrapped my towel around my waist and went to the apartment door, honestly, I was afraid that he or she might have killed him/herself. I stood at the door and tried to convince myself to go back to my house and the person was fine. Maybe it was a couple's quarrel, maybe that was the sound of someone cumming...

Well, I knocked, then I saw the doorbell and pressed it, it had this almost Christmas-sy song that lasted for fifteen seconds, no one came to the door. In my mind, I imagined that someone had indeed killed his/herself, while I was busy being lazy or maybe I was busy trying to mind my business, I should have checked in earlier. After what seemed like an eternity, someone opened the door, a man with a faded pink towel around his waist and a singlet, he opened the door enough to allow me to see his full frame, he was Indian. He looked like he was in his late twenties, he later told me he was thirty-four.

It was awkward for me, I was so worried about who lived there I did not know what to say, I have to admit that I stammered at first...and yes he was/is very handsome. But it wasn't like I was caught off guard, I mean he was tying a towel...and so was i.

I digress, I stood there not knowing what to say, but this conversation managed to happen;

'Hello'

'um hi'

'I came to check if everything is okay

'okay..um who are you?'

'your neighbor, my house is just this door.'

'okay...yes everything is fine, thank you.'

I should have just left, but there was something in his eyes, he looked tired and sick and I wanted to help, and I was happy he was alive.

'I heard some noise coming from your apartment, I knocked and no one answered, I was worried.'

Then tears started to drop from his eyes, he was fighting it so much but they could not roll back in.

'thank you...I was crying, I am so sorry I was loud and disturbing'

'oh no, you were not loud, my house is just close by.' (he was very loud, but I do not kick people when they are down)

'i am sorry if I caused you any troubles'

'no, no umm, do you mind me asking why you were crying and you still are?'

'I miss my family, I miss my family so much and I am hungry and tired'

It took me all my restraint and discipline not to cry, my brain finally left the funk and geared straight into a solution mood, I could not help him with his family, I did not know what to do about his being tired, but I knew what to do about his being hungry.

'you are hungry, there is nothing in your house, I mean to cook'

'i do not know, I do not know how to cook and my maid bought somethings before she left, I do not know what to do with them.'

'okay, can I cook for you?'

'you would do that?"

'of course, it's no big deal, I will cook in my house and bring it to you.'

'okay, thank you so much.'

'of course, what are neighbors for?'

I got to my apartment and cried too, do you understand how exhausted he must have been to emotionally cry so loudly and still cry in my presence. I showered very quickly and went to my kitchen. After googling for easy Indian meals to prepare, I did not have any ingredients to pull any of the Indian meals. So I decided to give him my ogbono soup. Then I thought it would make no sense because it would mean that I had to starve plus I think ogbono soup is an acquired taste, giving him my last soup would have been a waste. I went to his house instead to see what the maid had purchased and see what I could quickly whip up for him. I made an omelet with sweet potatoes, in retrospect I wonder why the idea of ordering food eluded me completely, I saw a man in need and I wanted to help. And he was more in need of company than the food. Do not get any ideas, no 'Namaste Wahala' happening at all I just needed to care, really care. But I did ask some questions, like if he was missing his girlfriend sha, and he said 'no girlfriend' with the Indian head shake...

He offered me a drink, and I played some jazz on my phone while I cooked, apparently he is new in Nigeria and had never left his parents before. I told him Nigeria is fun and welcoming and I promised he would have a great time, this is a new adventure, and settling into the vibe of the city of Lagos is the adventure. I invited him for dinner on Sunday, would definitely write about that.

He was open and vulnerable, and lonely, his wailing was for someone to just care, just say hello, I got you, this is totally normal and you will be fine. We lose sight of what it means to help someone else because we all feel we need money to do that. Money is important and can change a person's life and sometimes it's just a knock on the door that can. I have been my Indian neighbor before, coming to Lagos for the first time and completely alone, if I can feel that way in my own country, I had to imagine what it is like for him.

Those of you already planning a wedding for me in your head, that is not what this story is about, but thank you very much.