To January.
To Moyo, and an amazing new year’s, complete with alcohol and new friends. To the most cold I’ve experienced.
To Nife, and bonding with his friends. To Joseph. To being alone in a city where one should have friends, looking forward to going home.
To February.
To being back home. To Timi, Jubril, and a new Lagos life. To moving into a new house, and doing it well. To spending the rest of the year living with the most inspiring, most supportive friends one can ever ask for.
To protesting, for nothing.
To Kachi, Tomi and Bobby, for letting me teach in my own way. To running an internship, and somehow managing to pull it off.
To March.
To Uganda, and to adventure. To Sheri. To Ugandan nightlife, and to being tall Nigerian men. To waking up on the other side of town.
To Willy. To sitting with strangers — now friends — talking about war in Congo. To banana beer, and to ATMs in Kigali that pay dollars.
To April.
To my mum, and to growing older. To responsibility, and to stepping up. To being there; to being a son she can be proud of.
To the most epic house-warming party. To the “unholy communion table”. To the friends that gave us their art. To the friends that bought.
To May.
To running consistently. To losing weight and feeling better about my body. To the disbelief (and subtle amusement) of childhood friends getting married. To supporting them.
To milestones. To Timi, his new car, and the beauty of progress.
To June.
To Nigeria. To Port Harcourt, Akwa Ibom, and to Calabar. To experiencing diversity with Jubril. To Cohan, and to the hilarity of karaoke.
To Abuja and drunken nights. To Favour and Rotimi. To the train that leaves on time to Kaduna.
To July.
To 25. To old friends, and new beginnings. To Tomi walking down the aisle. To Yinka, to Aisosa, and to everyone there with her.
To goodbyes at work. To seven days in Accra with my family. To reluctantly fasting. To realising my mum may have more energy for adventure than me when it comes to botanical gardens.
To August.
To returning to Lagos yet again, but this time ready for responsibility at work. To Paystack and how far I’ve come with Ezra and Loknan. To all the songs that now remind me of chasing sunsets on the Embarcadero.
To seeing Phardiga again, even when I told him — when we were leaving school — that it was unlikely.
To September.
To being young and getting what you want. To Jubril’s dream car and to VIP parking ever since.
To venturing out to Owerri on my own. To Tolu for doing the same by going to Dubai. To ferrying to the rivers that never mix. To hunting down 51, Iweka Road, Onitsha.
To October.
To Ire, first for being amazing, and then for Frontstack. To tech parties, and to birthday dinners at Crossroads.
Also to Craft, to Shrine, to Kalakuta, to Chefyvs, to Master Li and to Silverfox.
To November.
To cabin houses and to the gang. To Jola. To Ake festival, and to feminism.
To meeting young people. To new vibes with 90s babies. To new music with 90s babies. To new music that helps with work.
To Paystack. To growing so fast, and fighting to keep up. To figuring it out.
To December.
To Kachi. To swimming. To Tomiwa. To crypto. To cooking. To Idera. To playing the guitar again. To Them Dochi. To going out, a lot. To closing the year on a high.
To Daniel, and to Denny. To closing the year.
To retrospectives.
To you.
Cheers to the best fucking year of my life!
