You didn’t waste it. You wore it with pepper, joy, and your belly out.
There’s a kind of silence that settles in August. The sun is still shining, but the light has started to linger like it knows its time is nearly up. The wind changes key. The laughter gets a little slower. And somehow, without anyone saying it, we know we’re entering the soft ending of the season.
If you live abroad, you feel it deep in your chest. This summer the one that’s not just about heat, but relief is starting to pack its load. The warmth that made you bold enough to show knee, rock shorts, grill meat with no apology… it’s slipping. And you’re not ready. Because you needed more time. More sunlight. More space to breathe.
Summer abroad isn’t just a season it’s therapy. It’s the one time of year when cold doesn’t humble you and joy doesn’t need permission. When you can eat puff-puff in the park like you’re not on a budget, wear Ankara with your full chest, and play Burna loud without feeling like you owe the neighbours an explanation.
Let’s be honest your plans for this summer were wild. You were going to enter September with abs and affirmations. You downloaded two fitness apps, promised yourself no carbs after 6pm, and declared this your “wellness girl” era. By July, you were drinking Fanta with boli and asking your plug if they still had space at the BBQ.
But hear this: you may not have gotten the body, but you got the belly laugh. The gizzard. The park rice. The sweet awkward joy of seeing your uncle in sunglasses and linen shirt behaving like he’s in Banana Island, not Birmingham.
And for those back home? Don’t think we’ve forgotten you in this gist. If you’re reading this in Lagos or Owerri or Minna, you too know the ache of something good winding down. Maybe it’s not “summer” the way the UK people measure it, but the feeling is the same. That thing where the days are long and the evenings stretch, where you eat roasted corn by the roadside, gist late into the night, and pretend August won’t end.
Because whether it’s suya under the bridge or fish foil in Peckham, the spirit is the same. It’s laughter with spice. It’s grilled joy. It’s that fleeting but fierce Naija magic that comes when the world lets you exhale for a moment.
So if you still have one more party in you go.
Wear the ridiculous outfit.
Drink the thing.
Take the walk.
Kiss the person.
Laugh until your stomach hurts.
Because summer is ending. But you? You’re still here. Still glowing. Still full of stories and sweat and small belly joy.
You didn’t waste this summer.
You wore it with pride, with pepper, and with all your chest
Tell us the one thing this summer gave you food, feeling, memory, or moment.
Use #EgogoSummerAche and let’s send it off together Naija style.
