I touched down in Abuja on the 1st of April; it was balmy and strangely luminous, like everything and everyone had a light shimmer to them. From the dust covered fan that creaked while it rotated inconsistently due to the fluctuating current to the two immigration officers that checked my passport, wearing fake smiles and looking incredibly bored. I’ll attribute the glow to the excitement that flowed all through my body; and even while stuck in traffic at Lugbe going into the city, I smiled at the passengers jostling to get into buses and taxis; I smiled at the policeman who wasn’t quite sure what he was doing in the middle of the road; I smiled at two drivers arguing with each other while parts of their recently crashed cars lay on the road, oblivious to the horns of the other cars around them. I smiled at the sun rising and warming this beautifully flawed city, this beautifully flawed country.
I’m here to make a film about a poor, married hairdresser who through a brief homosexual encounter is able to muster up courage and stand up to her inattentive husband and ask for better. I have strange illusions of grandeur that are rooted in reality; I’m here for a project that addresses sensitive issues and themes. I’m hopeful, but I’m also aware of the difficulties that I will inevitably come across. My only wish is that this beautifully flawed land be kind to me- be more beautiful than flawed