Archive for June, 2013

Her Rusty Elegance

The lonely lady standing at the intersection

The lonely lady squating at the intersection

On Saturday 22nd June, I did the heavily herculean task of not attending a friend’s wedding ceremony just to take a time out and relax. Not like a party junkie, but I seem to have a lot of weddings going on around me these days that turning them could be deemed as inappropriate; I had to do the inappropriate.

Living in Lagos has robbed me of a lot of sanity and creativity, that it became imperative for me to cool off. What better place to cool off than the intersection of the elements, earth and water. I’m a beach enthusiast and I desperately wish I could have my wedding at the beach for some reasons I can’t explain. It makes for great photography too. I went with a niece and a nutmeg, metaphorically speaking. It started as a borefest until we decided to make the best out of the situation. Oniru beach right now is a situation, a pathetic seemingly victimless shady condition almost devoid of any visual appeal. The high tides have eaten deep into the shoreline that what used to be a fancy beach now looked a distressing specimen of what it was. But out of the nothingness came one of the most awesome moments I’ve ever had in my modern day mobile phone photography endeavour.

I revel moments and not substances; not necessarily. Walking down the encroached shoreline towards the extreme left, wading through coastal deposits of poop and slippers within packets of twigs, I stumbled on something really stunning, an abandoned ship. The beauty in the dead beast would be oblivious to the naked untrained eye, but the consistent hitting of the tides on her over and over again made it suicidal to climb on it and enjoy. I didn’t plan to die on Saturday; I didn’t. But leaving the abandoned ship behind, she looked lonely and deserted, as the words “Celtic navigator” spread across her rusty face.

I turned around and took a random picture, and my word! The best picture these hands have ever taken; at least to me. I was moved at the loneliness of the Celtic ship; so rusty, unkept and deserted, yet would delight the disappointed lot who would venture to Oniru beach. In its solitude, it provided a moment of pure joy: A gift given to me by the situation of the ship, as she sat at the intersection between land and water. A bridge between the elements it seem. I missed the wedding, but not the Celtic Navigator, in her rusty elegance.

Present in almost the most inappropriate beach dressing you would ever see.

Present in almost the most inappropriate beach dressing you would ever see.

The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe. In no particular order.

The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe. In no particular order.

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