SWEET MEMORIES ♥️
Yesterday I remembered an event I graced in August, 2019. It was a Lawyers’ conference. How I put up an appearance still is a surprise to me. My mother told me to accompany her because she needed someone to carry her bags(because she lodged in a hotel for the event). I was very enthusiastic about accompanying her, so I visualised how the conference would unveil in my mind—the superfluous sight of lawyers breezing in and out of the dais, the all singing and dancing of lawyers.
We left church early in order to meet up with the appointment my mother already made with the hotel workers. We got to the hotel which was directly behind my mother's law firm. It had a name embossed on it, which read—IGANDO. As at this time, the name stroke an analogy with a city in Osun my friend Damilola Adejumo told me about. We entered the hotel room—it was a little too small with an air-conditioner on the wall, and a toilet. We began to offload our bags getting ready for the lawyers’ cocktail party at Victoria Island. We both took our bath and tailored ourselves in nice outfits. We stepped out of the hotel, and on the spur of the moment, a tricycle wheeled us to the venue at Harbour Point, Victoria Island.
Upon getting to the venue, there were barges of soldiers manning the road that led to the event hall. My mother and I held hands as we ambled to the venue. We were then directed to the hall which had embossed on it—Kayode Eso. They were still cleaning up so we were directed to another place to sit while they finished up. While we were waiting, one lawyer from Kano came to sit with us at table. She talked with us a bit before the party began at full swing. The background music set my spirit high; I was so happy to be in the midst of lawyers. Later on, they brought snacks and malt, of which we all took. Then they brought grilled chicken and turkey and more malt. We were all satiated. Soon they turned down the background music and started playing trumpet—it was at this then I leapt for joy. One particular lady, in a black gown, robust, was wagging her buttock; her waist was in continuous movement as a guitar man played ceaselessly.
My mother danced away to the dead end of the hall with young lawyers she did not know, videoing her and sending the videos to her on WhatsApp afterwards. One lady in hijab told me to call my mother to come and rest because she was dancing too much. They brought more meat and one spring roll I liked (it was not really a spring roll; it looked like a spring roll, but sweeter than a spring roll). I could not stop feasting on it until I ate about 15 in total. While my mother was yet away I conversed with lawyers about the requirements for admission into Law. One lady and her friend, the one I mentioned on hijab, told me that she called to bar in 1993, 25 years ago. I was awed, amazed and impressed, all at once. She told me I need Literature, History, CRS/IRS, and English language as core subjects for admission into this discipline. We chatted for a while until she patted my back that she was leaving, my mother was yet to come back to her seat. I basked in the melodious trumpeted sounds spiking the hall until I almost fell asleep.
My mother finally returned, motioning me to pack our bags as we were going. Outside the hall was a BRT, wheeling lawyers to the various destinations. One lady shouted at me for trying to enter the bus before her meanwhile she was not looking.
The next day was the formal programme. We headed to Eko Hotel, still on Victoria Island. They started checking Identity cards and denied me admittance. I appealed but they remained dogmatic until one lady, fair as egret, came with her little daughter, said a few words and she was given admittance into the hall. I reprimanded them for doing that, so they, ashamed, told me to go in. I could not locate my mother; she was further ahead. I tried calling but she did pick, but texted me that she was at the back. I begged one lawyer to give me his phone. Another man in spectacles scoffed saying, ‘What are you even doing here? In fact, we should know that we are not to bring kids here now!’. I ignored him and went to the man who asked for my number, and immediately wired airtime into my SIM. I called my mother but she could not hear me above the noise of the background, so she texted, ‘I am at the back’. It was at this point I became confused. The landscape of the hall was winded. And to think I could walk through the long aisles scared me.
Just when I gave up I saw my mother seated on a chair. She told me to get a seat—so I sat near her. There was no food until about 12pm when I had to hustle for food myself in the midst of lawyers jostling to grab a plate of rice and turkey.