Nigerian people love church. They love going to church, boasting about which church they go to, which church they started, how many uncles they know are pastors – and of course – singing praise songs any chance they can get.
As a Nigerian, you already know this: any function is a function fit for God, so at your wedding, at your birthday, and at your graduation, you better be prepared for some worship. After all the guests arrive about five hours after they were invited, your zealous aunt steps up and says: “Today our daughter/son is a grah-jyu-ettt!” [read: graduate]. What begins as a normal speech slowly turns into: “… and we thank you Jesus for everything…” Which, of course, quickly becomes a chorus of everyone’s favorite: “… oh Lord I am very very grateful!” And so it starts. You cringe, because – wait, why is your aunt even singing? Saying she sounds “horrible” is a little harsh, but you begin to wonder if she can even hear herself. The song would be perfect if she was just… you know, on key.
When Nigerian women whip up their songs of praise, their marching, clapping and chanting, being on key is obviously not a top priority. For Nigerian people, the way no prayer is ever long enough, no song is ever loud enough. Even if your voice cracks and you start going off into another octave that no one has ever heard – it doesn’t matter. You better be singing. And have you noticed how your aunt, or the one singer who leads the pack, with the distinctive, high, grating voice always has to start out first? Why can’t it be your cousin – the one who can actually sing? I’m sure God would appreciate the change.
Naija people just dey invent their own octave, the sound/noise come fall between dying bird and baby wey just jump out from mama womb.