[Lagos, Nigeria] I had just narrowly escaped a throttling for taking too many liberties in the kitchen of an Ajegunle bukateria when I stumbled into painter Joshua Mays in a back alley. All anguish from the tragic egusi stains on my jacket sleeve was momentarily abated when I noticed that Mr. Mays had recreated the towering landscape on a nearby wall.
This was a Lagos that would be unfamiliar to our grand-parents. The image of a city captured years after the Great Crude Explosion: a day when oil bubbled through the Makoko slum floors and flowed freely in Ikoyi’s streets, effectively transforming Lagos into the richest city on the planet. Now, the once-sullied aspects of Nigeria’s reputation lay discarded and forgotten, and the world's citizens climbed over themselves to dock their dreams at Lagos’ shores. Transfixed, Mr. Mays and I looked up at the ever-growing spires of New Lagos, painted against the blue horizon, and knew: Our children would never have reason to look down again.