abuja: the dry wind, the weird numbers, and my spray can soul
i'm in abuja and i think i'm losing my mind, but in the best way. i flew in on a rickety plane that smelled like coconut oil and desperation, and the moment i stepped onto the tarmac, the air hit me like a dry handshake. the temperature is 24.21°c, feels like 23.16, humidity 18% - that's desert-level dryness. barometric pressure is 1011 hpa and ground level 969, numbers that sound like a cryptic message from the sky. i've never had my lips chap so fast. i carry a bottle of water everywhere, and i've learned to put vaseline on my nose. the wind carries a fine red dust that gets into everything, including my spray paint nozzles. you have to clean them after every use. i heard that during the harmattan season (november to march), it gets even worse, with sandstorms that turn the sky orange. but i'm here in august, and it's still this dry. go figure.
i'm a street artist, i go by 'phantom' sometimes, and i came here because i heard the walls in abuja are hungry for color. i've been wandering for three days, spray cans in my backpack, and i keep seeing these numbers: 2334327 and 1566512059. they're everywhere - scratched into a bench at the airport, tagged on a wall near the national mosque, even the receipt from the guy selling fried yams had them. i asked a local what they meant and he just shrugged and said 'that's life, bro.' so i made up a story: 2334327 is the bus number that takes you to the edge of the city where the desert starts, and 1566512059 is the timestamp of when i get caught by the cops for painting a mural on the water tower. i haven't painted that mural yet, but i'm planning it. the timestamp in my phone for that plan is set to 1566512059? that's august 23, 2019, 12:34:19 pm utc. weird coincidence.
abuja is a city of contrasts: sleek government buildings next to sprawling markets, rich dudes in range rovers cruising past kids playing soccer in the dust. the street art scene is underground but thriving. i found a sick spot behind the abuja techniques mall where the walls are a canvas for a rotating crew. i tagged a piece there last night - a phoenix rising from a pile of broken concrete - and i left the numbers 2334327 as part of the tag. someone told me that the owner of the mall actually likes the art, but you gotta be quick before the security shows up. i heard that the security guards are former soldiers who don't mess around, but if you leave a small tip in the right hand, they might look the other way. i left a 500 naira note taped to my can of black paint. worked like a charm.
i also heard from a bartender at a shady joint in wuse that the best suya in town is at a stall called 'alhaji's' behind the central mosque. 'just follow the smoke and the sound of gossip,' he said. i went, and it was legit - spicy, smoky, and the guy gave me extra peppers because he liked my hat. but be careful: they only take cash, and they close at 10pm sharp. also, the local police sometimes do raids on street vendors after midnight, so if you're craving late-night snacks, you're better off at the 24-hour joint near the nnpc tower. i've been there at 2am and it's a vibe: flickering neon, guys playing draught, and the sound of generators humming. the food is greasy but hits the spot.
if you're itching for a different vibe, the road to kaduna is just a couple hours north. i took a bus there last weekend - the ride was a blur of acacia trees and dust devils. kaduna has its own street culture, with murals that tell stories of the north's history and politics. the people are tougher but the art is raw. definitely worth a day trip if you have the time. i saw a mural of a woman with a kalashnikov, eyes staring into the distance. it was intense. someone told me that the artist got into trouble for that one and had to leave town. that's the kind of place kaduna is.
i also spent an afternoon at the gurara waterfalls, about two hours east. the drive through the hills was breathtaking, and the falls themselves are a cool oasis. i set up my sketchbook and tried to capture the light on the water. a local guide told me that the falls are sacred to the indigenous gbagyi people, and you should always ask permission before swimming. i did, and they let me. it felt like a wash of cool clarity after days of dry heat. the water was so cold it made my teeth chatter, but i didn't care. i just sat there, watching the water cascade, and for a moment the numbers 2334327 and 1566512059 didn't matter.
the electricity here is a joke - i'm writing this on my phone because the power went out again. the generator next door sounds like a dying lawnmower. but that's part of the charm, i guess. i'm writing by the light of a cheap lantern, the sweat dripping down my neck, and i can hear the call to prayer echoing from the minarets. abuja at night is a different beast: the streets are emptier, the stars are out (if you can see past the dust), and the city feels like it's holding its breath.
i check the forecast obsessively. weather.com says it's going to stay this way for another week. i'm not complaining - the dry air keeps my paint from dripping, but it also makes my throat feel like sandpaper. i've started carrying a tiny spray bottle of water just to mist my face while i work. it's a hack i learned from a local graffiti legend who calls himself 'dusted'. he's been painting these walls for ten years and knows every nook and cranny. he told me: 'if you can't stand the dust, you're in the wrong city.' he's right.
i should mention the numbers again: 2334327 and 1566512059. i think they might be coordinates. i typed 23.34327, 156.6512059 into google maps and it dropped a pin in the pacific ocean somewhere near the marshall islands. that's not helpful. maybe they're a phone number? 233-432-7? that's not a real format. 156-651-2059? that's a possible number but abuja's country code is +234. so no. maybe they're the number of a bus? i saw a minibus with 'abuja express 233' on the side, and the license plate ended with 4327. that's probably it. and 1566512059 could be the exact time i missed my flight last year? i'm overthinking. i'll just keep painting them on walls until someone tells me what they mean.
anyway, here's a map of where i'm hanging out most days:
i've been snapping photos too. here's one from my latest session at the abandoned cinema near area 1:
and another from the market where i got those yams:
if you want to explore abuja's street art, i recommend checking out the area around the national theatre and the millennium park. also, the local boards like abujaartscene.com have updated lists of legal walls. and of course, tripadvisor has a page for things to do in abuja that includes some galleries and street art tours. i also found a great spot for coffee - or what passes for coffee here - at a place called 'the bean den' near wuse market. yelp has it listed with mixed reviews, but the espresso is strong enough to keep you awake through a power outage. for weather updates, i use accuweather because it's more accurate than the local news.
i'll leave you with this: abuja is a city that doesn't scream, it whispers. you have to listen to the dust, the horns, the distant call to prayer. and if you see the numbers 2334327 and 1566512059, maybe you'll understand them. or maybe not. that's the point.