Every year, between June and August, Nigerians start asking the same question: “Why is it raining like this? Isn’t this supposed to be summer?” You’ll be on Instagram seeing people abroad living their best lives at the beach, meanwhile you’re in your house wrapping yourself in a duvet and chasing mosquitoes with insecticide. One second you’re planning brunch outfits, the next you’re deep in gutter water because the rain had other plans.
But here’s the thing, Nigeria doesn’t even have summer. We’ve been borrowing the word from people that actually have four seasons. Over here, we only have two: dry season and rainy season. That’s it. No spring. No autumn. Just sun or rain, pick your fighter. From November to March, we get dry season, sun that can toast bread, and maybe small harmattan in December if the weather is in the mood. Then from April to October, it’s pure rainy madness. Heavy clouds. Thunder that sounds like it’s dragging generator with the sky. Rain that falls like it’s punishing everybody for something they didn’t do.
So when people in the US or UK are shouting “summer loading!” and showing skin, that’s because they’re coming out of cold, snowy weather. Their June to August is sunny, warm, and break time from school, so it makes sense. In Nigeria, yes, students are also on holiday during this time, but the weather is not here for enjoyment. It’s giving muddy roads, cancelled events, late deliveries, and clothes that refuse to dry for one week straight. You can plan picnic, but if rain no gree, your meat pie go soak for nylon.
This year feels worse. Like the rain is extra intentional. One week, you won’t see the sun at all. Just clouds, water, and more water. You carry white clothes to wear, rain will embarrass you before you even reach junction. Even the thunder is louder than normal. Sometimes you’re in the middle of gist and boom! Your light disappears and everyone goes silent like the sky just entered the room.
People are frustrated. Events are getting cancelled last minute. Owambe is now “owambe with extra umbrella.” Delivery riders are going AWOL the moment clouds gather. And don’t even get me started on the street floods, you’ll be doing high jump to avoid getting swallowed by Lagos drainage. It’s not giving “hot girl summer.” It’s giving “survival.”
So what do we do? Honestly, I’ve accepted it. I no longer try to fight it. I just move with wisdom. My umbrella is my handbag now. My shoes? Rubber-friendly. I’ve swapped poolside dreams for movie nights and pepper soup. And when I see one glimpse of sunlight? I take the picture I need to take and go back inside quickly before the weather switches again.
At the end of the day, yes, we call it “summer” out of habit, but let’s be real, this is peak rainy season. So if your calendar says summer but outside looks like Noah’s ark is about to sail again, just know you’re not crazy. That’s Nigeria for you. Still, enjoy the break, rest well, eat good food, and slay when you can.
Just do it with an umbrella in hand because our own summer comes with thunder, not tan lines.
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