Even though it’s been 2 years since I last went to Lagos, Nigeria, I somehow saw myself there today.

And no, I wasn’t imagining it. I was right there in a taxi on Eko Bridge heading towards Victoria Island.

The traffic was at a standstill. I paused to breathe, looked out the window, and caught a glimpse of the ocean or a part of it

My Uber driver seemed off. He was playing a song from a foreign language I knew nothing about. I thought it was weird. Hardly would you find anyone in Lagos listening to a song in a foreign language. Yet, somewhere in its middle, someone was.

I couldn’t tell what language it was but the music sounded sorrowful.

I was struck by the strangeness of the human experience. I didn’t have to ask but I knew that the song was meant to evoke emotions. I mean all songs do but this one was simply different. 

What was the singer possibly talking about? I took a wild guess and landed on love.

Love.

Maybe someone broke his heart and now he was singing about how they should both move forward. 

I suddenly found myself asking the driver – “What language is that?”

“Oh, it’s Persian.”

“Do you speak Persian?”

“No. But I enjoy the song.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“He’s talking about a girl. They were lovers but not anymore. He’s saying they’re meant for each other and they should be together forever. “

His explanation hung in the air.

I thought about love. Love to me has always been a choice. The act of choosing someone fully.

I thought that was interesting.

Loving someone is important and hard. So hard that sometimes, you just have to let go. I mean the greatest act of love is to want someone to be happy and that includes the painful realization of wanting them to be happy even if it’s not with you.

I wondered what happened to Mr. heartbreakee (or maybe breaker) and his lover. I hope they’re fine.

I finally arrived at my destination. It’s just as I’ve always known it. I entered the building for my appointment.

Face extraction is painful. Very painful. But necessary. Or at least, I should rephrase. I think it’s necessary for me. I don’t think there was ever a time I did an extraction and didn’t cry.

My extractor would always apologize, pet me and every single time, ask if she should stop while with eyes filled with tears, I’ll always respond  “keep going, it’s fine.”

But it was obviously not fine. I was in a lot of pain. I wonder why I pay to subject myself to pain. Lol. Am I even okay?

As much as I’d have preferred a pleasant experience, one thing that keeps and has kept me going with extractions is knowing that the short term pain and tears I get are nothing compared to the long term benefits that come with it.

It’s the long-term benefit that makes me choose this pain because, in the end, pain is inevitable. It’s a human experience that we sometimes receive from loved ones, and maybe those we may not love as much.

My extractor finished with so much pity and sadness in her eyes for me.

It’s ironic but I thanked her for inflicting pain on me.

I headed back out. I needed to get to the mainland, which I like to call the downtown of Lagos, as soon as I could.

As I stepped out to meet the driver I hailed, I looked up and around.

It wasn’t Lagos, Nigeria. It was Etobicoke, Canada.

I could have sworn I was in Nigeria a minute ago. Was my mind playing tricks on me?

Maybe it was. But I thought it was a good trick because at the end of the day, home lives in my heart, and my heart lives at home.

It’s what makes me who I am.

It’s what makes me see Lagos, Nigeria, in Etobicoke, Canada.