Living without the internet in Lagos sounded like one of those cute TikTok challenges. You know, the kind where someone goes, “Guys, no internet for 24 hours! So aesthetic!” But this wasn’t aesthetic—it was survival. With my phone on airplane mode, my router unplugged, and vibes as my only strategy, I prepared for the wildest 24 hours of my life. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t ready.
Hour 1: E Still Dey Sweet It started fine. I told myself, Shebi it’s just one day. I’d finally finish that book I’ve been pretending to read since 2022. So, I grabbed my novel, made tea, and felt like the main character. By Hour 2, I’d read the same page three times. The silence was so loud I could hear my neighbor blasting Fido’s latest song, screaming, “Joy is coming!” My hand twitched toward my phone, but I resisted.
Then, NEPA struck. No internet, no light. Double wahala for dead body.
Hour 5: Lagos Chaos Is Free Entertainment Bored out of my mind, I decided to take a walk. Lagos streets without scrolling Instagram is like entering a video game on hard mode. First stop: mama put. While eating my jollof and dodo, I overheard an auntie ranting about how her son wants to be a “content creator” instead of an engineer. “So he can be shouting, ‘Like and subscribe’ abi?” she hissed.
A man nearby added, “Na so dem dey start. Next thing, dem go dey sell waist trainer.”
I laughed so hard, I nearly choked. Lagos may not have Wi-Fi everywhere, but it has drama in abundance.
Hour 10: NEPA Light, But No Peace NEPA decided to restore power, but guess what? I couldn’t even Netflix and chill. I stared at my TV like it had betrayed me. To pass time, I attempted to cook. Let’s just say the indomie I made could’ve qualified for an Olympic worst taste competition.
My neighbor, Auntie Bose, knocked on my door to ask if I had seen her cat. “Auntie, abeg no vex, but is your cat on Snapchat? Because I’m offline o.” She hissed and left.
Hour 15: I Accidentally Joined a Local Vigil By evening, my boredom had reached shigidi levels. I wandered out again and stumbled into a street vigil. Apparently, someone’s generator had gone missing, and the owner was not playing.
The crowd was shouting, “Holy Ghost fire!” while I awkwardly joined in, hoping they wouldn’t ask me for an offering. They thought I was deeply spiritual; I was just looking for gist.
The suspense hit when one man screamed, “Dem don catch am!” Everyone ran toward the commotion, only to find out it was a false alarm. At this point, I missed Twitter’s chaos—it felt more predictable than this....Continue Reading Here
I Tried Living Without Interent For 24hrs In Lagos.. Here Is How It Went