The best day yet.

Midnight. Just back to the hotel after watching Femi Kuti, local afrobeat celebrity. Like Widespread Panic meets reggae in west Africa. He plays a double keyboard and three saxes (not simultaneously, but nearly), sings with passionate protest and directs his percussion and horn section, a couple guitars and a variety of rotating dancers (on stage and in cages, rather disturbing metaphorically but mesmerizing to watch). The energy, of performers and dancers and groupielike following alike, a Pentecostal service -- dervishes flying everywhere. This was just the *rehearsal* for his weekly Sunday show. Plenty of secondhand weed lingering in the air, too. I live in the wrong country ... junk that moves independently of what's below is celebrated here.

A neck-snapping study in contrasts from the rest of the day.



In the morning we drove to the lagoon, took speedboats out and visited three of the riverine villages. I just can't do justice tonight. Extreme poverty; multitudes of children and virtually no means of self-sufficiency. Fishing all but destroyed by the lagoon's water quality. One village did have some agriculture -- cassava, coconuts. One marriage proposal from an elder in one village, who laughed when I said, "Oh no, you don't want to marry me -- I'm too much trouble, and I can give you plenty of testimonials to that effect."

With deep white sand beaches and palm trees, it would take only a very little bit of work to improve these villages into primitive resorts, a means of bringing in money -- if only the water weren't so deeply and permanently polluted.



This is pretty much what the ground looks like everywhere, but most especially in the slums/villages:



Miz K, your pink skirt came along for the visit and I believe was not destroyed in the process. My favorite Diesel sneakers may not be so lucky.

That was eye-opening enough. Quick lunch at a fast-food place (another jarring juxtaposition), then off to visit Ajegunle -- possibly the largest "slum" (I hate using that word, but there's no getting around it) on the continent. At least 3 million residents in this neighborhood alone. The streets are dirt packed with garbage; in the rainy season they flood, sending sewage and filth into the homes. We passed through a couple of long, low, bunkerlike buildings filled with rooms about 10 by 10 feet; entire families (mother, father, several children, probably extended relatives) live in a single room.

Our leader, John, had just commented on the bus that we'd become so gradually acclimated to the filth and poverty that we hadn't really had an "Oh my god" moment yet. Then we turned the corner, literally, in Ajegunle; behind the falling-down buildings is a pile of garbage and sewage, playground to countless children and the occasional dog, backyard to millions. It's hard to know what to say about it. I can't fathom how people with so little justification for hope manage to continue waking up each day.

My biggest regret is failing to buy an extra battery and card for the camera; it gave out on me just after the lagoon visit, so I have no personal proof of the slum visit. I'm hoping the others will be generous with sharing; Stephanie in particular ought to be a professional photographer. What I do have, I'll post when I have a chance.

Pulling an allnighter, I think, because I don't want the night to end, but Ron, Bill and I apparently agreed to go on a morning TV talk show; leave at 6:15. I can sleep on the plane. It's coming for us all too soon.

Traffic in Lagos:



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Vicki: Happy Birthday and thanks for the news update!
Robin: Por supuesto I remember you! Glad you got my email and would love to catch up when I return.

William: The camera I just despise, frankly, for several reasons, but will try Miz K's ISO suggestion. I need to hire the both of you and *really* learn photography.