Not One Abuja - by Xallyheart

On one side is a party where a woman in a beautifully dressed gown, laughs under chandeliers. Her makeup took two hours. Her small chops sit untouched. The DJ shouts Abuja, we outside! and the whole of Maitama seems to glow. Light here does not blink, Water runs, Security salutes.Phones come out for photos not for flashlights In this room, money smells like perfume. You wear it so people know you belong. Outside of the town, another lavish party is going on Men in big agbadas and senators sink into gold chairs arranged like thrones Hennessy sweats in crystal. The asun is hot, the jokes are louder. Between bites, they are discussing how many new bundles they’re going to spray this week. "That file go move Monday,” one says. Double it for the boys on ground another answers. No one asks where it’s coming from. No one checks the price In this room, money sounds like power. You spray it so people remember your name.Ten minutes away, a woman ties her wrapper tighter against harmattan. She arranges bottle water on a wooden table by the roadside at 10pm. This is her second shift. The first was in someone’s kitchen in Wuse. She waits because this is when the SUVs leave the parties. The big madams buy water for their drivers. The big ogas buy it to wash their hands after asun. Her own dress is also beautiful green ankara she saved three months to sew for church no one photographs it. Her light is a kerosene lantern and the headlights of cars that never stop. One of the SUVs from the senator’s party splashes her stand. The driver doesn’t slow down. In this roadside, money feels like hunger. You chase it so your children sleep. This is why no state in Nigeria reflects the realities of classism more starkly than Abuja.You can see all three worlds in one 15-minute drive. No bus needs to take you to another state to see inequality It’s all on the same map The city planner drew estates with high fences facing settlements with no drainage. One side has a private transformer. The other side has “we go manage.” The contrast is not an accident. And the divide is only widening.In the mind The woman in the gown gets home, kicks off her heels, and opens Instagram. She checks the comments. “You pepper us". She smiles, but her chest is tight did she look rich enough?The senator gets home, loosens his agbada, and opens his bank app. He checks the balance. He frowns. Is it rich enough to keep the seat next term? The woman with bottle water gets home, counts ₦1,800 on her mat, and opens her pot. She checks the rice. Is it enough for tomorrow? Three people. One night. Three different versions of fear. That is status anxiety. Abuja teaches everyone that peace has a price, and the price keeps rising. In the pocket Last year, the woman in Mpape paid ₦5m for one room. This year her landlord said ₦7m because “Abuja don cost, my dear.” Her salary did not move. The senator bought land in Guzape for ₦40m in 2020. Today that same plot is ₦200m. He made ₦160m by sleeping. She lost ground by waking up. The wall between them keeps risingIn the future her 10 year old son hawks when he returns from school. He has learned the phrase “we go manage.” The senator’s 10 year old son has a French tutor. He has learned the phrase “Daddy’s office.” In ten years, one boy will write policy. The other boy will queue to beg for the policy to change. They will never sit in the same classroom, bus, or hospital. That is Humanity gap When you never share space, you stop sharing humanity. By 1am, the parties end. The woman in the gown posts “What a night” and takes sleeping pills. The senator’s convoy drives past three police checkpoints that wave them through. The woman with bottle water packs her table, walks 40 minutes home because taxi fare is now ₦500 and soaks her feet in hot water.Three people One city The same sky.One acted out joy ,One acted out power, One acted out survival.None of them will speak the entire truth tomorrow. The gown will say I had fun. The agbada will say “We were planning for the people.” The wrapper will say “We thank God.” That is the classism. That is the psychology. Nowhere represents this more than in Abuja and the gap just grows and growsBecause the separation is not merely about houses anymore is the separation between worlds. And every day,it grows louder.

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