🛌🏾✨ The Weekend Gambit: Sleep vs. Soukous
The alarm blared, a cheerful, if somewhat insistent, synth tone. But instead of the usual groan of resistance, a smile touched Ada's lips. It was Friday. Not just any Friday, but a Friday that promised the sweet, delicious embrace of sleep or the vibrant, intoxicating chaos of an owambe.
The week had been a relentless sprint of deadlines, urgent client calls, and meetings that could have easily been emails, leaving her drained but, crucially, not defeated. She had crossed the finish line.
She stretched languidly, pushing against the crisp cotton sheets and feeling the delicious, deep pull in her muscles a prelude to the weekend's indulgences. Her mind immediately began to waver, caught between two equally appealing scenarios.
On one hand, her bed. It called to her with the seductive voice of forgotten responsibilities, a fluffy, downy cloud promising hours of uninterrupted slumber. She pictured herself burrowed under the duvet, sinking into the mattress, the world outside lagos traffic, phone notifications, and the general clamor of the city reduced to a distant, gentle hum, until she woke naturally, feeling truly refreshed and revitalized for the first time all week. That was luxury.
Then, the other image flashed in vivid, sensory detail: the pulsating, infectious beat of Fuji music, the kaleidoscope of vibrant ankara and lace fabrics swirling on the dance floor, the air thick with the irresistible aroma of smoky jollof rice and perfectly roasted goat meat. It was the joyous, uninhibited celebration of women dancing with graceful abandon, their movements speaking volumes.
An owambe party. Mrs. Adebayo's daughter was getting married tonight, a major social event, and Ada had the perfect peach lace outfit the one with the intricate silver embroidery—hanging patiently in her wardrobe, waiting for its moment to shine. She imagined the laughter, the warm hugs and catching up with friends she hadn't seen since the last major wedding, the rhythmic, hip-swaying dance moves, and her elaborate, perfectly starched gele (headtie) sitting atop her head like a regal crown. The thought sent a jolt of energy through her veins that sleep simply couldn't offer.
The choice was a delightful dilemma, a true test of spirit versus exhaustion. To succumb to the siren call of rest, allowing her body the recovery it desperately craved, or to dive headfirst into the exhilarating energy of celebration, feeding her soul with music and fellowship?
She finally pulled herself out of bed, walking over to the window to let the morning sun stream in. As she gazed out at the city awakening, a deep, contented chuckle escaped her. "Another Friday, another weekend," she murmured, pulling back the curtain. "The possibilities are truly endless." The day was just beginning, and she had hours precious, uncommitted hours to decide which path her weekend would take. For now, the sheer, profound joy of knowing she had a choice, that the weekend stretched out before her, ripe with potential, was more than enough. The world could wait.