The sunset chase in lagos

It was 4:32pm on a Saturday and nothing was happening. You were in Surulere, phone at 14%, NEPA had taken light since morning, and the fan was just blowing hot air. Your group chat was dead. Twitter was boring. Then your friend Tolu called. “Bro, you’re wasting your life. Let’s chase the sunset.” You: “With what money? And where?” Tolu: “We’ll figure it out. That’s the point.” 10 minutes later you were both in front of his uncle’s old keke. It smelled like petrol and pureza. You chipped in — 300 from you, 200 from him. 500 naira total. One bottle of water. No plan. Lekki* Traffic was punishment. 1 hour to get to Lekki Phase 1 and the beach was packed. Couples, picnics, loud music. Not it. Tolu looked at you. “Plan B?” You checked Google Maps. “Epe is 1hr 20min. Sun sets at 6:47.” “Let’s risk it.” The Wrong Turn* You missed the Epe exit because a truck broke down and blocked everything. By the time you rerouted, you were on some village road with no streetlights. Phone signal was doing 1 bar. The sun was already half gone. You were about to turn back when you saw it — a small opening between two houses leading to water. Kids were running there with plastic buckets. An old man was mending a net by the shore. He looked up, saw your tired faces and the dying keke, and just said: “You boys lost?” Tolu, out of breath: “We’re chasing the sunset.” The man laughed, showing gaps in his teeth. “Then God brought you here. This is Ojo-Igbede. Tourists don’t come here.” He pointed to a small wooden jetty. No railings. Just planks and faith. You both sat down. And for the first time all week, it was quiet. No honking. No generators. Just water lapping, gulls, and the sky doing its thing. Pink → orange → deep gold → purple. The lagoon turned to glass. Fishermen paddled back in. A woman was frying plantain and fish by a lantern. The smell hit you and suddenly you were starving. Tolu bought 2 plates for 1k. You didn’t have it, so the mama said “Pay me next time.” You ate with your hands, sitting on the jetty, feet dangling. A kid asked to see your phone torch and ended up showing you how to skip stones. *The Breakdown* Of course the keke wouldn’t start at 7:40pm. You pushed it. In the dark. Sweating. Cursing. Laughing. A danfo conductor saw you, shouted “Omo, wahala!” and his driver helped you jumpstart it with cables. You got home at 11:15pm. Dusty. Broke. Phone at 3%. Your mom asked where you were. You just said “outside.” Lying in bed later, Tolu texted: `Best boring Saturday ever.` You replied: `We need to do this again. But with more money next time.` Because the truth is, the adventure wasn’t the sunset. It was getting lost on purpose. It was the 500 naira plan. It was the stranger who fed you. It was realizing Lagos still has quiet places if you’re willing to get a little lost to find them. Two weeks later. You still hadn’t stopped thinking about that jetty in Ojo-Igbede. The quiet. The fish. The old man who said “God brought you here.” You texted Tolu at 2pm on a Saturday: `We’re going back. But this time we’re doing it right.` Tolu: `Define "right"` You: `Money. Food. And my phone with 100% battery. No keke this time.` *The Plan*This time you took a bus to Ojo, then a bike. 2k each. You packed: Gala, La Casera, power bank, and Tolu’s small camera he borrowed from his cousin. “For memories,” he said. The village looked the same. Same kids, same smell of smoke and lagoon. But this time you weren’t lost. You were coming back. *Meeting Baba Sanni Again*The old fisherman was there. Mending the same net. He squinted at you. “Ah, the sunset boys. You came back?” You smiled. “We did. We wanted to see it again. And... can we ask you some questions?” He laughed. “Questions? For what?” Tolu held up the camera. “To remember this place. People should know about it.” Baba Sanni shrugged. “Sit. But you must work first.” For the next 30 minutes you helped him pull in nets. Wet. Heavy. Smelling like fish. Your hands got rough. Tolu complained once, then shut up when Baba Sanni told a story about fishing through a storm at 19. When you finished, he pointed to the jetty. “Now. Sunset.” *This Time Was Different*You weren’t rushing. No breakdown panic. No 500 naira stress. You sat on the same planks. This time with cold La Casera and peppered fish Baba Sanni’s wife gave you. “On the house,” she said. “For helping.” The sky did the same magic. Pink to gold to purple. But this time you noticed the details: - The way the water reflected the lanterns - The kids playing “ten-ten” in the dark - Baba Sanni humming an old Yoruba song while he worked Tolu took pictures. Not posed ones. Just real ones. You laughing with fish on your shirt. The jetty. The sky. Before you left, you asked Baba Sanni: “Why do you stay here?” He looked at the water. “Because the city is loud. Here, God talks. And the fish listen.” *Going Home*On the bike back, your phone buzzed. It was your sister: `Where are you?` You replied: `Chasing sunsets. Be home soon.` You got home at 10pm. Tired again. But different tired. You uploaded one photo that night. Caption: `Found peace 2 hours from Surulere.` Tolu texted at 12am: `Bro... we should bring more people here. But not too many people.` You: `Agreed. Let’s keep it our secret spot.` Because some places aren’t for posting. Some places are for remembering who you are when no one’s watching. *The End

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