My Story
MY SIX WEEKS IN NIGERIA – DONALD DEDE'S STORY MARCH – APRIL 2016
At the airport things went rather well until we arrived at the luggage pick up point which took another 2 hours or so. I collected and then proceeded to meet my sister, once outside there were hordes of people wanting to assist me some even try to grab my luggage away from me.
It was somewhat unsettling as I never experienced anything quite like that, but anyway as I insisted that I was waiting to be picked up they relented but one of them was so helpful that I decided to accept his assistance. He turned out to be the one that took me my sister and my niece home to her place.
As I said it was quite emotional and as we sat in the car it was quiet for a couple of seconds but seemed like ages. And then we started talking for real and it never stopped until we reached her home. At home I met all my relations that was emotional too. I was welcomed and received warmly by everyone.
Today Tuesday 22nd March 2016 has been a hectic day. I got up at about 5.30am wakened by the sound of the Muslims call to prayer and at 6am I was in the bathroom having a shower, the sun was already out, had some breakfast egg omelet, bread and coffee. Went out with my nieces to change some currencies. It was difficult getting a taxi from Badagri to take us to town but there were motorbikes that operated as cabs, it was quite an experience sitting precariously on the back of the motorbike me sitting behind my niece barely a space to sit on. We were taken to another area were we caught a local bus to the market.
THE MARKET
There is a definite sense of confusion on the road with the local buses, as every bus fights to get a customer. Sometimes it seems to the outsider as though people are been forced in to the bus. Believe me this is normal everyday behaviour. People shouting at each other as if they are about to have a fight but this not so, it’s just business negotiations and transactions at its basic. Ok, off to the money changing, as we walked along the market I felt as if all the eyes in the market were directed at us, it can be a bit unsettling.This market sells all manner of goods. The market is bustling with sounds of people touting for business. All of a sudden my niece stopped and started talking to two gentlemen in full Nigeria dress called Agbada.
This is a 'Black Market' for changing foreign currency so we had to negotiate for a better deal. It took a while but we eventually had one. I think Nigerians like the idea of bartering. It is never straightforward. You ask for the price and you are given a very high price. Now this is where the skill of bartering comes in to it’s own.
The better you are at bartering the cheaper you will pay for the goods. This system I think is very flawed, there is no honesty on the part of the trader, he or she is always looking for a way of making the customer pay more. It all depends on how skillful you are as a negotiator. Yesterday was also an experience, went to the market to buy a few grocery and as before took the local motorbike, as we arrived at the market there were lots of cacophony every body seem to be engaged in conversation with some one else. The trouble is that you not quite sure who is talking to who as they keep shouting, pointing to someone some where in the crowd. Then suddenly a voice booms back in reply with outstretched hand pointing towards the speaker. With so much confusion or excitement am not surprised that everyone had to talk at the top of their voice in order to be heard.
THE FIGHT
At the market I witnessed a fight between two traders. This fight was not like any fight you’ve ever seen. First it was a slanging march between two people but then it quickly turned in to fisticuffs but without actually hitting each other. One of men was much taller than the other, the shorter man sensing that he was at a disadvantage decided he needed something to even the score so he dashed across to the store next to him grabbed a pole broke it in half and went back to the fight. And again it was more like a threat without actually hitting his opponent and seeing that this man has a weapon the taller man did something that was equally bizarre. He stepped forward and drew a line on the sand and said to the shorter man cross this line if you dare but strangely enough the man with the pole refused to cross the line on the sand. This is what Yoruba’s call Shakara Oloje meaning you don’t really want to fight but to show your displeasure but this kind of action can sometimes be double edged and as the fight slowly died down and no one was hit or injured.
Just as the fight died down and the little man not wanting to fight any more he gently put the broken pole down. The shop owner then approached the little man who took the pole and was made to pay for it at a higher price of 2000 naira. This was an opportunity for the shop owner to make a profit there were no haggling this time the price was fixed. The little man with a look of defiance said to the shopkeeper ok I’ll pay for it and he promptly did and the matter was over and now every body is back pointing shouting.
THE BUSES AND MOTORBIKES AND THE ROADS
Today got the usual transport first the motorbikes known as ( okada ) that will take me to the bus stop were I was to pick up the local bus these are known as kia kia bus.
On the way to the bus stop it was nick and tuck whether I was going to survive the ride. It was dangerous and hair-raising as the rider tries to negotiate the potholes that litter the road from end to end. Holes big enough to swallow a small family car. Dodging the incoming traffic he weaves from side to side with me holding on for dear life. At the bus stop we (me and my mate) got the bus ( damfo) to the city and surprise surprise this wasn’t any better than the motorbikes. The buses were like the ones you see in Bombay India.
To tell you the truth am not sure which is the worst. These vehicles smells of petroleum, it is as if it was dipped in petrol. Their condition was absolutely disgusting, some had no number plate and some had bits falling off them, others tied with cords of some sort.
There seem to be no direction on the road, one way is no longer valid because of the state of the road as drivers try to find a gap amongst pot holes, excuse me if you don’t understand the situation don’t worry I don’t either. The bus conductor’s job is rather precarious. From the off he the conductor is constantly shouting pointing and banging on the bus. I on the other hand have no idea what the hell he is saying and suddenly he jumps off the moving vehicle banging and shouting at the same time. There was a woman standing by the roadside he dashed off to her picked up her belongings and all this time the bus continued moving, he then went after his bus shouting at the woman who was at this time well behind him, and shouted to the woman. “Run madam run,” and she in return responded with a smile on her face ran after the bus. As she got on the bus she said thank you to the conductor who retorted by saying hold on madam as the bus sped away.
THE BUS, THE MAN AND THE RUNNING PRIEST
There is this man who at about 5.30 am with his loud speaker in one hand and bible on the other decides it is time to wake people up with the words of God. No complaints from the residence as the preacher blast his message in to the early mornings. Just the other day while traveling on the bus at one of the stops I heard something that sounded like someone praying, I looked around to see where it was coming from to my surprise a man was holding on to the conductor as the bus gently start moving away he was praying for the conductor and as the bus increased its speed a bit this man started jogging along side the bus holding on to the conductor and his prayers were now frantic as he tries to conclude his prayers, prayers finished the conductor thanked him and handed over some cash and off they went their separate ways. This is not unusual, as you may think in a country where God is mentioned in every first or second word. Usually the Christians worship on Sundays while the Muslims worship on Fridays and now the Muslims have decided that they too will worship on Sunday as the Christians, the Christians themselves don’t mind as it proves that they are the right choice.
TRADITIONAL WAYS AND THE CHURCHES
Nigerians are very clean and healthy people; they take pride in their appearance, looking at them one cannot tell who is having a hard time. The people are not the problem it is the system, they have been neglected for so long they no longer believe in their governments both past and present. In Lagos the Yorubas don’t believe in one Nigeria as a result the city is run in their traditional way, they have people known as Omo Nile these men act as hooligans Christians and making the life of the non Yoruba’s a misery. Just imagine this, you buy a piece of land and decide to build a house on your land, then the so called elders tells you that you must pay them to bless the foundation. You did not ask for this service, it is forced on you and you can not refuse . You then try to erect a wall to protect your home the so called omo ni le tells you that must pay them money too in order for you to erect the wall and this is the land you bought and paid for and now this practice has spread all over Nigeria.
It is as if somebody or something overnight hypnotized the whole nation in to religious madness. The churches in Nigeria don’t do politics instead they concentrate all of their efforts in convincing their flocks that the reason for their poverty is because they have move away from God. They are told that the devil is very alive amongst them turning to god is the answer.
DRACULA, FRANKENSTEIN & HARRY POTTER
A woman came to visit my sister and I overheard what she was talking about. She was telling my sister that Europeans believe in Dracula, Frankenstein and Harry Potter. I couldn’t say anything then so as not to be rude, but later when she left. I said to my sister. You don’t believe all that crap do you? It is not true. They, Dracula etc. are only stories. People peddle this rubbish over here as truth when in fact they are only stories or fables in books!
People are deeply religious practicing Christianity, Islam, and African Traditional beliefs all jumbled up. There is extremism on all sides in everything.
GOD WILL SAVE US
It is strange how the people put their hope in God to get them out of their predicament. No one has trust in the government, corruption is everywhere in the system it has made the lives of the people hard. This is an oil producing country but you will not think so judging by the price of petrol. The prices keep going up daily and this is a headache for Nigerians,no one benefits in this type of situation. Not businesses who need the fuel to grow their business and employ more people or domestic use that needs it to power their homes in a country that have little or no electricity. This is a vicious circle that benefits only the corrupt officials and no one else. The price of food is ridiculously expensive to majority of Nigerians like the fuel, the price of food keep going up daily making the lives of people even harder. It is as if this a deliberate strategy to frustrate the lives of the people. No wonder the people have turned to God for solution instead of their government. The evidence is there, the church or the religions of all kinds are the only booming part of the economy.
In the words of one Nigerian GOD HELP US.
NIGERIA, A COUNTRY FULL OF INCONSISTENCIES
Nigeria is a country full of inconsistencies. On one hand you have the politicians and the other religious establishment and then the traditional beliefs and practices. Like the sixteenth century in England when we had the reformation there were multitude of religions, there were the Catholics, the puritans and many more. The difference is that while in England it was about core beliefs between those who believe that the church (Catholic church) is moving away from the teaching of the bible. These men and women of their time challenged the church and this resulted in a religious revolution.
In Nigeria it’s not so much as a revolution but explosion. The country should have been called religions country. There are churches of all kinds in every corner. Even the market place is not immune with blaring loud speakers, people are told to embrace the bible and that’s the way to riches.
THE CHURCH ON THE RUBBISH DUMP
POVERTY
The poverty is extreme and everything seems to be in hundreds of naira. Just the other day on Sunday in fact, I was sitting inside of my sister’s compound watching my sister tend her vegetable garden when a smartly dressed gentle man walked in through the gate and said good morning to me and my sister we responded in kind. Then he said something that was rather sexist, I think I better talk to the man because this is a man's talk. We moved over to one side, he then introduced himself and told me about his situation, how he has been laid off as a truck driver. He said that his situation was desperate and needed some help. He explained how he hasn’t eating for couple of days. I felt some empathy for him, he is a man of about 53 years old clean looking but doesn’t know were his next meal was going come from, there was no doubt in my mind that he was telling the truth. Oh I did consult my sister to confirm this and then gave him a few naira to my surprise and embarrassment he was on his knees tanking me for my good deed but before he could finish his praises of me, I stopped him and told him that it wasn’t necessary, I am glad to assist and help him to his feet. But as he was going out the praises keep coming until he was out of the compound.
THE SMELL OF SPICE AND THE HAWKERS
Today the sun is blaring hot in Lagos as usual, it’s 7am and the streets are buzzing with the sounds of traffic and people going about their daily business. There is smell of spices in the air like a strong perfume smell that never goes away. Then the hawkers who are everywhere selling all manner of goods. These hawkers are experts at dodging the traffic cars and motorcycles. On one occasion the hawker was selling to someone on the local bus and suddenly the bus started moving without warning but the hawker wasn’t paid yet, so he ran after the bus weaving his way through the traffic to catch-up and suddenly money started dropping out of the bus, he stopped chasing the bus and went after his money which at this time was all over the road, he then repeated the move all over again just to collect his money, am glad to say that he survived the ordeal. The street hawkers live a dangerous life never knowing weather they will survive the day or not as they try to scrape a living. They are usually young men and women of all ages from twelve years to thirty something