If You've Never Experienced This Before, Then You've not Been to Naija!!

It was a wailing, an outcry, and the crashing sound of many voices in peril. 

I woke up with a start. The cries sounded like someone in serious pain, gasping for breath. All of a sudden, an alarming shout rented the still air on a cold night. I thought I heard someone shout: "Armed robbers oo. Armed robbers oo." I swear, that was how it sounded.

It was as if the vocal riffs were alerting the rest of us sleepy heads to wake up from our slumber, unaware of impending doom! 

How did these night marauders penetrate the well-guarded estate where my friend rented a plush flat, I kept asking myself repeatedly, unsure whether to step out of where I was. 

Without thinking, I sneaked out of bed, prowled quietly from my room, and just as I was about to open the door, I heard another resounding shout. At first I couldn’t make out the words, but after several repetitions I heard the phrases: “Amen! Amen! Thank you Father!...”

It went on like this for several more seconds and abruptly stopped; silence descended upon the entire compound. It was midnight.

And then it hit me! These persons were carrying out one of their usual prayer chants, disturbing the peace, quiet, and calm of the night; of tired neighbours who had barely gotten into bed after watching the late night news.

Moments later the singing and chanting began again: longer, persistent and focused at unseen enemies – both real and unreal – to be burnt by fire!

I clawed back to my bed, waited and waited for the noisy chants to end, but it seemed they had only just begun. Sleep fled. 

Three hours on, they battled on in their frightened, wailing, bitter and unsure voices, commanding, demanding – completely insensitive to their neighbours’ right to a peaceful night rest as they raised their voices higher and higher insensitive to their neighbours’ plight who would struggle to be productive the next day at work.

Is it such a bad thing to pray quietly, respectfully and with sublimed passion? Someone should please help me understand that.

While their chanting, singing and thumping continued till dawn, I barely had a moment’s sleep, and just when I thought they had toned down a bit, the generators from another flat sputtered to life; the noise deafening. It was one of those typical generators that never got serviced regularly, thoroughly misused without regard to the quality of it life’s span. 

I moaned. I groaned. Oh boy! not again!

 Before I could adjust to this additional noise, directly opposite the estate, just across the street, loud speakers boomed all manner of utterances, shouts, demands, commands and shrieking supplications! 

Just as one speaker goes off another or several more loudspeakers takes its place on the airwaves. On that crescent alone, there at least eight different religious bodies professing the same fate with just another that had a muezzin, which added its own jarring sounds to the acerbating cacophony.

Moments later, motorists blast their car horns at will; motorcyclist, the okada riders, tut their larger-than-life horns mercilessly to attract passengers, sometimes trading expletives with other motorists and commuters alike. 

And when I finally got to the hospital where I was referred to, at the federal medical centre, patients clamoured for doctor’s attention, complaining of inefficiency and abandonment in loud voices, their anger unrelenting. 

If that were not enough noise within hours of my small existence, at the market, customers haggled over prices in shouting matches; each too consumed with their skill to out-negotiate the other in the duel of parsimonious finances.

At the salon or hair shops located in market places, grating generator sounds, jarring Nollywood videos intrude your every conscious second.

On the news, whether at the offices or home, voices scream at you from the TV set. All you hear about is the president’s election and the noisy raucous of lobbyists, praise singers and ill tempered opposition members trading aspersions and counter-attack at each other; almost close to libel.

Just when I was hoping to rest before the children returned from school, an over excited neighbour blares discordant Naija jamz from pounding speakers at ear-splitting decibels that can bust your eardrums to shards of pummeled glasses.

Parents shout at their children who just returned from school, overwhelmed by their own lack of skill in managing their wards; the biting harsh economy notwithstanding, set their hearts racing.

I'm yet to adjust to all these, when just after dinner, I watch as men and women in dark suit walked into the estate, heading for another flat. You’d think they had come to visit, then what a surprise to hear them noisily call out at the top of their voices from 8:30 p.m. into the dead of night demanding, binding, casting and cursing the unknown enemies: perceived, real or non-existent.

As thought that was not enough for one day, disco and night clubs pump up the volumes into the streets; keeping awake tired citizens who have had a long and possibly unfulfilled day.

And I thought it was suppose to be a weekday!

Gosh! This Country is Noisy.