In his work Nigerian artist Emeka Ogboh records the sounds of Lagos, particularly focusing on the noise of danfo and molue buses, and installs his soundscapes in the milieu of other cities. This essay examines the political implications of this gesture. I argue that Ogboh's practice doesn't just celebrate the vibrant urban sounds of Lagos but foregrounds the medium of sound to reflect on the African city as a space historically shaped by and entangled in economic, social, and cultural interrelationships with the rest of the world.

Ogboh's sound installations focus on Lagos—the city in which he lives—exploring what the artist describes as its "history and aural infrastructure." In galleries, he usually installs the work in booths where audiences listen to the recordings through earphones. Sometimes he places speakers and megaphones blaring with Lagos sounds in the streets of cities such as Cologne or Helsinki in order to initiate dialogue on globalization, migration, and multi-culturalism. One could read Ogboh's practice within the context of Camerounian philosopher and critic Achille Mbembe's Afropolitanism: a cosmopolitan understanding of Africa as a dynamic cultural hybrid, a "world in movement." Afropolitanism describes Africa as a product of continuous "itinerancy, mobility and movement" of diverse peoples from all corners of the globe into and out of the continent and within its geographical boundaries. Present day Africa is a mixture of Asian, European, and indigenous peoples and cultures which have been in political and economic interrelationships for millennia. Mbembe uses the term "afropolis" to refer to major African cities such as Lagos, Cairo, and Johannesburg, cosmopolitan spaces implicated in and shaped by complex, skewed, and asymmetrical global flows of ideas, goods, capital, and people. Following this framework, the essay examines how Ogboh inserts the sounds of Lagos into the soundscapes of Western cities to highlight the socio-political imbalances and contradictions of globalization, focusing on two sound clips titled Lagos by Bus and the installation Lagos Soundscapes in Cologne: Reception of Strangeness and Consumption of Difference.

The Italian critic and curator Marco Scotini observes that, due to globalization, "the city, and not the state, is the strategic place of economic dynamics, migration, ethnic and cultural change, and the demands of civil society." Lagos, which was once the administrative capital of Nigeria, now its economic and cultural capital, offers Ogboh an appropriate space for understanding the socio-political dynamics between the south and the north in the globalized world. The history of Lagos begins before the first Portuguese settlement in the fifteenth century, but the city was also shaped by the trans-Atlantic slave trade, colonization, post-colonial and neo-colonial cultural, political and economic factors. For example, in its relatively recent economic history, the Nigerian oil boom of the 1970s—whose tragedy continues today—stimluated migration from rural to urban regions of the country and also attracted migrants from the United States, Germany, and Japan to Lagos making it a one of the richest, most populous and culturally diverse metropolises in Africa. It is the idea of Lagos as a locus where myriad cultures and variegated subjectivities intersect that underpins Ogboh's practice.

Lagos is a metropolitan beast whose voice and soul manifest themselves in a cacophony of roars and growls of blaring horns, vehicles, rumbling electric generators, muezzins, street music, and rowdy vendors clamoring to sell their merchandise. Through its sounds, Ogboh manages to capture the Lagosian cityscape in its diversity and complexity. But the work transcends merely recording and celebrating the sounds. From such a diverse range of metropolitan sounds, Ogboh selects danfo and molue noises and situates them at the centre of his poetics as a metaphor for addressing issues of migration and related topics. This practice stems from Ogboh's recognition that urban sounds are not neutral. Cultural theorist Helmut Draxler points out that, like the tactile and the visual worlds, the audible world is shaped by and politically implicated in capitalist modernity. Urban sounds, from rumbling production machines to supermarket muzak, are all products of capitalism. To an extent, therefore, Ogboh does todanfo and molue sounds what artists such as the Beninian Romuald Hazoume and the Ghanaian El Anatsui do to found products of African modernity such as jelly cans and bottle tops.

Danfo and molue comprise Lagos's major mode of transportation. Danfo, which means "hurry" in Yoruba, is the local name given to the yellow Volkswagen minibuses of Lagos. Molue, which has its roots in the English word "maul," are the locally fabricated 44-seat buses that ply the roads of the city. Danfo andmolue are ubiquitous on the streets of Lagos and therefore contribute to the city's perpetual traffic jams locally referred to as "go slows." The noise from danfo andmolue horns and the verbal "maps" from their call boys pollute the overcrowded streets of the city. Referring to the verbal route maps chanted by bus conductors as a unique feature of the Lagos sound that particularly drew his attention, Ogboh has stated that, "the verbal maps are the acoustic cartographic mapping of Lagos by its bus routes and destinations, and by bus conductors." In addition to the horns and the route chants, a polyphony of dramas is enacted as Lagosians congregate in these overcrowded buses in their daily journeys to and from work. Ogboh records the voice of Lagos in this cacophony of bus horns, chanted route maps, and brawls. The idea of the fast-paced city and its aggressive mercantilism are embedded in the terms danfo and molue themselves, whose meanings conjure up the polyglot spirit of the metropolitan jungle and its laws of survival, i.e. "Just keep ramming on" to borrow from Lagosian street lingo.

An eight minute and ten second clip entitled Lagos by Bus offers the listener a detailed audio landscape of Lagos. In the clip the Pidgin chatter of travelers intermingles with the clinking of beverage bottles, music from a radio, and above all the pervasive and cacophonous hooting from danfo and molue buses. The most discernible of the conversations in Lagos by Bus is a pre-departure sermon and prayer by a peddler hawking drugs for diabetes and glaucoma to commuters. Vendors in danfo and molue buses are known to coax travelers with prayer to buy their merchandise. As one listens to the sermon, the music in the background becomes discernible as a popular song by the eminent late Nigerian musician Fela Kuti titled "Coffin for Head of State." The song—which also starts as a desperate prayer to Jesus Christ, Allah, and other deities for mercy—is also an essay on the grim socio-political reality of Kuti's contemporary Nigeria. "Coffin for Head of State," which was recorded after the Nigerian military invaded Kuti's Kalakuta republic in 1977, narrates his personal ordeals with the Nigerian government, and decries the wanton corruption, political oppression, crime, and dehumanizing poverty across Africa.

Danfo and molue embody the cosmopolitanism of Lagosian soundscapes. From the hybrid origins of Pidgin, the language of Lagosian commuters, to the political concerns in Fela Kuti's song and the pervasive influence of Christianity and Islam, one notes in danfo and molue a confluence of the triple heritage of African cultures described by Ali Mazrui in The Africans; A Triple Heritage. They are representative of Mbembe's afropolis. The whole danfo and molue "ambience," as featured in Ogboh's soundscapes, emblematizes the hustle and bustle of modern life not only of Lagos but of many post-colonial cities.

Passenger buses of the danfo and molue class are not unique to Lagos. Most African cities share similar public transportation systems promising similar travel experiences to the commuter. For example, the Tanzanian transport system has the Dala dala; Zimbabweans ride the battered Tshova; Congolese streets are teeming with the noisy Fula fula; Ugandans and Kenyans pack themselves in the claustrophobic Matatu. While in their physicality danfo and molue are unique to Lagos, the multifarious sounds offer Ogboh a springboard to explore issues of more widespread relevance.

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