Somewhere in Nowhere

Hollywood is reputed as the hub for excellence in imagery, preserved under deliberate motives, celebrated details and scripted transitions; a feat that could be compared to the magnificent show staged by Karl Lagerfield, one of his best in Grand Palais, Paris. A monochromatic eighteenth century formal French garden; complete with three working fountains, where he employed an 80-piece orchestra playing classic symphonies amidst a procession of creative designs and wearable pieces at realistic prices. With such measure of successful contrast, one can’t help but switch the “CHANEL” of one’s wardrobe to Karl’s audacious work of fashionable art. At Mania magazine, the comparison seems same with an ‘Investment Issue’ intended to be a guide for women looking for their money’s worth on all budget. The cover had to speak this tense with uncompromised elegance, hence, the location for the shoot had to look uncelebrated, smarmy and negligible yet malleable. A number of locations came to mind within the country, but Makoko community in Lagos became our prime option. Where in heaven is Makoko you might ask…somewhere in nowhere we gladly reiterate.

Our cover girl is a thoroughbred Lagos chic, a TV personality, entrepreneur and philanthropist. A queen of adventure, fearless and firm in disposition but also compassionate, attending dutifully to the whims of the less privileged hence her Non-governmental organisation. The choice of our cover girl was simply a function of her malleable personality, which can balance luxury with cheapies. A media magnet that could place an order for bespoke shoes at Nordstrom and Macy’s and yet tolerates cheap belts and straps from the infamous Yaba railway market; a stretch from two distant social strata. 

Just after the drench on a faithful Tuesday afternoon, we (Dimeji Alara and I) employed the service of a cab driver to Bnatural Spa, GRA, Ikeja where our cover girl was being pampered with the best beauty therapy money can buy. With five clothe changes each from two promising designers- Kemi Solomon and Bridget Awosika, we swung through the branded glass doors of the newest beauty haven in Lagos. The comfy ambience is a rich blend of nature with a whiff of scented incense littering the perimeter. We were at ease with the female Chinese receptionist whose dentition said more than ‘welcome’; she quickly directed us the salon where our cover girl was having a session. We exchanged pleasantries with the team while our subject barely turned to see our smiling faces. She excused herself from the team while we asked for a changing room to fit the clothes. “My battery just ran out, how are we going to take pictures”; Dimeji asked me in whispers. I quickly went to our Chinese friend and requested to lend a blackberry charger; she directed me to Lola, another attendant at the beauty studio who checked around for the device. The phone was charging while we outspread the clothes in a makeshift fitting room with each designers clothes on either sides of the spreads in the room. Our subject walked out to a large mirror at the reception looking stunning and sexy on every piece. We quickly took pictures of each dress and considered four each from both designers. 

 While we noted which clothes made cover statements, we also noted clothes that needed further pin-ups on location. We packed our bags, ejected the charger from the phone, ready to leave but had to say a quick ‘Hi’ to Lola Maja who is principal at the makeup school of the multi-functional spa. The newly wedded bride to the Ojekovoh’s walked into the reception with such glow that typifies a beautiful personality. We took turns dabbing cheeks accompanied with a friendly hug. “What a lovely place”; Dimeji exclaimed, “Yeah! Have you gone round the facility”, Lola enquired. “We would love to”; Dimeji replied. We took a rounded tour of the beauty haven with pockets of information on each section of the facility. The highlight of the impromptu explore was a visit to the Moroccan Haman, a cosy mud like abode tucked behind the provision. Its history dates to Egypt where it is still being used as a postnatal rejuvenation home. We ended the tour with warm sips of strawberry and vanilla flavoured herbal tea bags respectively, at the waiting room to the spa. Having observed a few locations at the facility for future photo shoots, we hoisted off our seat to join another cab. We thought we had had a long day.

  

 At about 11pm, we got a beep from Ugo Igbokwe (Make Me) calling for a scripted procession of the next days cover shoot. We took off almost immediately on shorts, tee shirts and slippers. Jumping at the next bike in sight at the junction because no cab was in sight, we alighted and took a tainted danfo bus heading towards ojota. We arrived our bustop looking for a bike to the office; fortunately we found one ready to ride Anthony village at a hiked price. We got to the office at about 11:15pm with the eight clothes certified for the shoot wrapped in my arms. Exchanged pleasantries (Kelechi Amadi-Obi, Ugo Igbokwe, Dimeji Alara and I), I quickly got a rack to display the clothes. We all starred at the simplicity of the designs while Dimeji spotted the cover options to the team. The Make Me boss, inspired by the clothes he had seen quickly asked the stylist cum editor- Dimeji Alara for hair styling direction. “I want a short hair with a slated impression from the back to the front meeting the chin” Dimeji replied. Kelechi was stealing away sketches of boats on a paper trying to find his photography direction. “Let’s google Makoko” Dimeji quipped. “Beautiful, I am sure we will find some interested images”, Kelechi adds, looking expectant like he couldn’t wait to see documented pictures of this unsung Lagos slum. He’s face lit as the pictures buffered. “Beautiful!” he kept reiterating; from this pictures informed angle directions from the sun, number of boats to be used and locations on set to shoot from. While kelechi was summing his judgments, Dimeji  stated the makeup direction for the shoot amidst this cerebral exercise: red lips and soft eyes, Strong eyes and plain lips alternating at different exposures. “I have a photography direction now”; Kelechi submitted. “ While on water, we will employ three boats, one for the cover girl, the other for the lights with my assistants and another from which I will shoot from. “I will also take exposures from the shanties and the school, then behind-the scene-contributors credit shoot”. I was busy jotting this details whilst nodding my head listening attentively to the exchange of ideas in an office gust with passion from three FAB award winners- Kelechi for Fashion Photographer of the year, Ugo Igbokwe for Hair Stylist of the year and Dimeji Alara for Fashion Stylist of the year. How justified!

We wrapped up the meeting at about 11:47pm in high spirits with a snug dress code- Tee Shirt and Shorts, to enable us wade through the slum. Dimeji and I left in high spirits looking forward to a beautiful shoot as we muttered and smiled at the level of professionalism and detail the shoot is earning. Strolling down the dark and lonely streets of Anthony village, we tried to buy some confidence to walk the night but there was no shop in sight, just security guards dressed like it was winter in Lagos. A few metres from the office, my editor’s havaianas slippers wrecked leaving him in a slight limp while he walked. I couldn’t imagine Nigeria’s number one stylist in such. I humbly exchanged my pair with his, bearing his cross and walking faster to the bus top for a cab.

Call time for the shoot was 9pm; in another hour we had all assembled at the office looking casual but preppy, ready for an adventure. Kelechi was unusually boyish with chinos shorts on a green tee shirt with a coffee brown pair of sandals; his glasses separated the whites on his hair and beards, which are his strongest facial features. Dimeji had on a black tee shirt, a comfy short and addidas trainers, which he wore with an ankle socks. Ugo was the peak of the pack with an out of New York look; three quarters baggy jeans, a large sized red tee shirt and a dog tag. I was most casual with a purple tee shirt, Patrick branded beach shorts and a slippers.  Our cover girl soon walked in beaming a honeymoon smile on a skin tone that looked like a steal from early morning sunlight, supple and tender even from a distance. She was draped in a black beach hat on a blue sleeveless top with the print ‘Lagos Beach Carnival’, a pleated white mini skirt and red pumps. “Anybody ready to have some fun” she exclaimed, the boys replied with a session of XOXO, taking turns. We moved to the studio foyer, which had makeup ready mirrors, bright fluorescent lights and a cloth rack and a restful sofa. Dimeji and I paired the clothes to a range of exquisite shoes by our cover girl while Ugo was setting up for the short-slated hair do.  Minutes later, we got a call from Ituen Basi suggesting we could use a piece or two from her new collection for the shoot. On Dimeji’s consent, I dashed to surulere to pick up the clothes. Lace collection they were with a few Ankara pieces. On my return, Ugo had almost finished his routine while Bayo Haastrup was getting his brushes set for some creative face painting. In no time makeup was applied while we gathered all necessary equipment and apparatus needed and drove in a convoy for this scripted cover shoot.

At about 2:23pm, we arrived Makoko community. Our gallant entry was quite intimidating with dwellers starring too hard for comfort. Our logistics aide ensured our vehicles were safe and easily accessible while we strolled in a single file along a narrow path leading to the water borne community. We were welcomed by an array of sweeping eyes and naked kids who felt most fulfilled waving at our parade. I noticed a few older kids waving at the only celestial figure amongst us, with chants of Yavo! Yavo! Yavo! Which means Whiteman in the native egun language; apparently my editor- Dimeji Alara, looked more like a young French expatriate sent by the consulate of France to propose developmental strategies. *Winks*. We soon arrived the busy boat park where arrivals and departures were uncelebrated. A few old men were drinking away while the younger male folks were our drivers…more or less paddlers. Our cover girl and a few of us were first to ride the murky water in a special green and white boat while a remainder of us joined another provision. The two boats emptied us into another transit boat, a bigger and better rider carrying our 14-man orchestra in comfort to our first location. As we paddled away from visible land, we were trilled at the peace with which this people live amidst a museum of dirt, sewage and metabolic wastes and an unhealthy breed of stingy insects. As we willowed through what looked like a soft sheen of engine oil, we met a company of paddlers, mothers selling prepared food- Iya Basira on water, kids hawking biscuits and confectioneries, video rental service, phone accessory sales and a range of entrepreneurial activities all in the water and shanties held about 15 inches from the wet. 

Our first location was the Baale’s residence, ‘a double pine wood terrace suite’, fit for royalty. We engaged our hands and wits, setting up lights and dressing our subject for the shoots that would make cover options. Satisfied with two cloth changes, we shot two other exposures, both amidst the activities described above. As the sun began to set, we jumped in two boats on which we rode to the next location- the school. We hurried four excellent exposures, changing makeup and styling options to script. Kelechi Amadi-Obi is a legendary photographer whose whiz at image rendering is unparalleled. His signature grin at intervals signifying a brilliant picture he loves, just keeps you lit up like a 50-watt incandescent bulb.  The shoot ended at about 6: 49pm with credit shoots for all contributors and a few kids and aides on the shoot. As we waded from the school to the boat park in the dark, I couldn’t help but notice how accustomed we had been to the peaceful water logged hideout in Lagos. Though our clothes wore smells of smoked fish, which is the primary trade of the female folks in the community, we jumped into our cars feeling fulfilled we just included a forgotten people on the map.     

Words: Godson Ukaegbu