(For any non-nigerian who has happened to stumble unto this blog,
asoebi is, literally, "the clothes of the family." In traditional events
from weddings to funerals, family and close friends of the 'celebrant'
commonly wear clothes made out of the same fabric.
That fabric is sourced and sold by the celebrating family.)
I grew up hearing about how unneccesary asoebi was. But I only had one non-society mother and no sisters, so I had no reference point.
When my friends' relatives started getting married, asoebi was ankara and cost all of N1,500, which used to be $10 but is now more like, 5. (Or 3.5). So, again, I didn't understand what the fuss was. I even bought aso for the weddings I crashed; that's how cheap it was, so I didn't understand why my father would occasionally say, "spending money on asoebi is frivolous." I mean, it cost less than a meal and a drink at TFC.
So, when we started getting married, and asoebi cost N15,000 (starting offer) I didn't understand why, exactly. But I figured, only close friends and relatives would consider taking up the cost of this emotional investment. But 15k became 20. And then 25. And then 30. And, when a dear, dear friend charged 40k for her aso, I finally began to realise the dangers of forming close friendships.
The real issue is not (entirely) that families force their friends and relatives to shell out uncomfortable amounts of money in order to dress a specifically dictated way to celebrate with them at their celebration. It is that they do so with such wild disregard, knowing fully well that a refusal to purchase such fabric would be interpreted (by the dictator) as the equivalent of serving familial divorce papers.
When I was younger, I wondered how it was logically or emotionally possible for someone else to demand that you make use of your money in the exact way that they demanded. That's what bullies and dictators did, and friendship was the opposite of that.
And, though, to be technically accurate, no one has ever threatened to stop being my friend if I didn't buy their aso, the subtle "But how would it look if her close friends didn't wear her aso," was just as effectve.
So, everyone buys aso, and everyone complains about the cost of aso, and the cost of getting the fabric made into the desired outfit, which is typically worn once and forever discarded (there are several sub-issues in here that I will not delve into.)
With the recent decline in the Nigerian economy (a temporary on, by the grace of the Lord God Almighty), one would have thought that there would be a tightening of purses.
One would have imagined that, with the same force and focus we as a people have dedicated to railing against the ineffective government (made up of people who also believe in the asobei principle), we would have applied a little force and focus to cutting unnecessary costs.
That has not been the case.
On the one hand, the celebrating family says, "Everything is so expensive, the economy is bad," and on the other hand they say, "our asoebi is 40k, please understand, it's those market people who keep hiking their prices unfairly." There's the expectation that the traders would reduce their prices, and the expectation that family and friends would be willing to increase their spend.
So, even though Pure Water is now ten naira and poverty is increasing faster than the economy is growing, the traders should starve?
Ladies and gentlemen: cognitive dissonance.
And, even as I type this from my moral high ground, what does it say of me that I have bought almost every asoebi that has come my way? The asoebi conundrum has led me to realise that the problem of Nigeria is not the declining naira, neother is it not our poor electricity supply: It is the ability for a people to unfairly demand things from others that they are not willing to do themselves. And isn't that what corruption is?
We live in an asoebi economy, driven by fame, fortune, pressure and perception.
It's not rocket science: if acountry person spends more than they earn, they'll be broke.
That fabric is sourced and sold by the celebrating family.)
I grew up hearing about how unneccesary asoebi was. But I only had one non-society mother and no sisters, so I had no reference point.
When my friends' relatives started getting married, asoebi was ankara and cost all of N1,500, which used to be $10 but is now more like, 5. (Or 3.5). So, again, I didn't understand what the fuss was. I even bought aso for the weddings I crashed; that's how cheap it was, so I didn't understand why my father would occasionally say, "spending money on asoebi is frivolous." I mean, it cost less than a meal and a drink at TFC.
So, when we started getting married, and asoebi cost N15,000 (starting offer) I didn't understand why, exactly. But I figured, only close friends and relatives would consider taking up the cost of this emotional investment. But 15k became 20. And then 25. And then 30. And, when a dear, dear friend charged 40k for her aso, I finally began to realise the dangers of forming close friendships.
The real issue is not (entirely) that families force their friends and relatives to shell out uncomfortable amounts of money in order to dress a specifically dictated way to celebrate with them at their celebration. It is that they do so with such wild disregard, knowing fully well that a refusal to purchase such fabric would be interpreted (by the dictator) as the equivalent of serving familial divorce papers.
When I was younger, I wondered how it was logically or emotionally possible for someone else to demand that you make use of your money in the exact way that they demanded. That's what bullies and dictators did, and friendship was the opposite of that.
And, though, to be technically accurate, no one has ever threatened to stop being my friend if I didn't buy their aso, the subtle "But how would it look if her close friends didn't wear her aso," was just as effectve.
So, everyone buys aso, and everyone complains about the cost of aso, and the cost of getting the fabric made into the desired outfit, which is typically worn once and forever discarded (there are several sub-issues in here that I will not delve into.)
With the recent decline in the Nigerian economy (a temporary on, by the grace of the Lord God Almighty), one would have thought that there would be a tightening of purses.
One would have imagined that, with the same force and focus we as a people have dedicated to railing against the ineffective government (made up of people who also believe in the asobei principle), we would have applied a little force and focus to cutting unnecessary costs.
That has not been the case.
On the one hand, the celebrating family says, "Everything is so expensive, the economy is bad," and on the other hand they say, "our asoebi is 40k, please understand, it's those market people who keep hiking their prices unfairly." There's the expectation that the traders would reduce their prices, and the expectation that family and friends would be willing to increase their spend.
So, even though Pure Water is now ten naira and poverty is increasing faster than the economy is growing, the traders should starve?
Ladies and gentlemen: cognitive dissonance.
And, even as I type this from my moral high ground, what does it say of me that I have bought almost every asoebi that has come my way? The asoebi conundrum has led me to realise that the problem of Nigeria is not the declining naira, neother is it not our poor electricity supply: It is the ability for a people to unfairly demand things from others that they are not willing to do themselves. And isn't that what corruption is?
The Asoebi Conundrum:
We live in an asoebi economy, driven by fame, fortune, pressure and perception.
It's not rocket science: if a
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