Lagos is not my home; I'm just passing through. By Kunle Adegunoye.





We hold these truths to be self evident; that Lagos with its warmth is a city to all, yet for none. Fused with metallic hustlers, it bustles each new day to traffic and  brisk pedestrians.

Lagos has never been, will never be and has never aspired to be like Ondo or anywhere else for that matter. Lagos has been indisputably itself but you would not know this if you've not been to Yaba, Idumota, Bariga, Mushin or Oshodi, places where you walk with full concentration to avoid been pick-pocketed, meet different people of different tongues and tribes working hard to make ends meet.

Evident it is, that Lekki is the part of Lagos closest to heaven, that after such a brutal week, we deserve a weekend with weddings, parties and festivities. Yet, it just doesn't interest me. If it isn't Ondo, it can't be Ondo.

That Fashola did the work with Tinubu behind him, that  Allahu Akbar no dey disturb revival. Yet, Ondo did not have a governor like Fashola and two religion almost head to head but my love for it is undiluted.

Colloquialisms like "One nation" under Fela, "Eko o ni baje" under Fashola and "Itesiwaju Eko lo je wa logun" under Ambode proposed developments. Yet, Ondo's "ibi amu yangan" supercedes them all.

I love Lagos but it's not mine. I have a place of pride to lay my head.

Each passing day, Ondo pacify itself saying "weep not, for your children come back to you". Today, man gathers his luggage and behold the triumphant route, the route to the sunshine state.

Lagos might be my centre of excellence, but Ondo is where my sun shines when darkness looms.

Home is where I belong, home is where I go. Ondo is my home.

Charles Cresol writes from Oyingbo, Lagos.

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