NIGERIA
I heaved a huge sigh of relief when the Virgin Nigeria flight touched down at 5:53 pm at Lagos International Airport after a short flight from Accra, Ghana on November 9, 2005. The travel agent, whom I bought the airline ticket from, had made me exceedingly nervous about travelling to Nigeria.
On our way back to Accra, after visiting the three Ghanaian village communities, we got caught up in a massive traffic jam in the sweltering heat. Our pickup truck had no air-conditioning. The air was stagnant and temperature hovered around the mid-80s. To make matters worse, there was no breeze and the humidity was quite high. The face cloth I carried in my satchel - handkerchiefs are of no use on field trips - was soiled with sweat and dust. Forget the bottled water; it had turned warm and provided no relief. The traffic inched past a travel agency and rather than sit and roast in the pickup truck, I decided that was good a time as any to purchase my airline ticket for Nigeria.
Mr. Owusu and I climbed a flight of stairs and entered the travel agency on the second floor. Most travel agencies are air-conditioned as the staff work in enclosed spaces all day. But that day, the travel agent by name of Pat informed us, the air conditioning had broken down and a ceiling fan was furiously circulating hot air at full blast. Booking that flight from Accra to Lagos was a memorable experience I will never forget. Never have I come across a travel agent as the one I dealt with in Ghana. I had wanted to go to Lagos very early in the morning, visit the villages and then get back to Accra later in the evening. Here is the conversation that took place between me and Pat.
"In that case, you will have to go with Belleview; they leave very early in the morning from Accra at about 7:00 am and return very late at night" Pat said.
"Hein? Belleview? Didn't their plane crash recently?" I asked.
"Yes, but only one of their planes fell down and they have not found the cause yet. Besides, all planes fall down from the sky; even the bigger ones fall down too," she assured me.
"Thanks but no thanks. Please book me on Virgin Nigeria," I requested.
"OK, but Virgin Nigeria hasn't fallen down yet. Who knows; their turn too might come," she added.
Some travel agent!! Talk about a sensitive and reassuring travel agent giving you all the information
about air travel, including planes falling down! I swear, at that point I didn't know whether to fly to Nigeria or not. But since "The Butcher of Abuja" (General Sani Abacha, a former military despot) was dead, though not from a plane crash, I decided to chance it.
The Virgin Nigeria flight for Lagos was fine. The crew was professional and we landed in Lagos without incident. The team of local coordinators - Thompson Ayodele and Thomas Adedayo - were at the airport to pick me up. As I carried no check-in luggage, we hurried out of the airport into a battered white Toyota Hitach van.
Thomas Adedayo and Thompson Ayodele
After introductions and the exchange of pleasantries, we headed for the Lagos Airport Hotel, where I checked in for the night. We had a hectic schedule ahead of us the next day. At dinner, we went over our plan of action: Names and locations of the village communities we were to visit the next day; how to get there, what to take along with us, etc. etc. After dinner, the team escorted me to my hotel room.
We all gathered at the hotel lobby at 9:30 am on November 10. Leaving early would have landed us right smack in the middle of Lagos' infamous traffic jams. I checked out of my hotel just in case we accomplished what we set out to do that day. Then we all bundled into the van for an hour and half drive out of Lagos city.
Driving in Lagos is not for the faint-hearted; it requires a nerve of steel. Never mind the air, which is always choked with pungent odour of exhaust fumes, rotting uncollected garbage and open sewage festering in the sweltering heat. There are no traffic lights in Lagos and no lane markers on the roads. Jungle law rules. It is a battle for space between huge trucks, taxis, motorcycles and pedestrians. It is also a battle for survival between machines and frustrated drivers, impatient to get their destination at break-neck speeds. Tempers flare easily, insults are hurled amid wild gesticulations. Every vehicle on the road was banged up or carried a patched up dent on its body - even the new ones. The yellow-painted buses that offer transportation to the public are in such dilapidated shape: Windscreens and doors missing; a hanging muffler dragging along the pavement; a whole side bashed in, etc. The vehicles looked as if they were dug up from Dracula's grave or, better yet, came out of a demolition derby.
We drove to the outskirts of the city and exited from the main trunk road. After navigating through a traffic circle, which keeps traffic flowing in lieu of traffic lights, we dropped the van off at a parking lot and trekked by foot toward the shores of the Lagos Lagoon. We trudged through a dirty, make-shift market set up under the road overpass. We got to the shores of the Lagos Lagoon, where half a dozen wooden canoes were berthed. After intense and protracted negotiations between Thompson and a canoe operators, we clambered aboard one. Most were fitted with outboard motors; the rest used oars for propulsion.
Aboard a Canoe for the Trip
After a sharp tug at the toggle line, the outboard motor roared to life. We sailed over the Lagoon, which was choked with rusting remnants of shipwrecks and other pieces of metal jutting from its depths. We also dodged floating debris and water-borne plants. After a 20 minute ride, the hazy outlines of a village island community poked into view. As we approached, the operator cut the power and we glided onto the beach.
The Outline of the Village Communities
