Hello from corruption-ridden Nigeria,
I left Nairobi on Kenya Airways flight #432 on 12 September, the day after
the NY-Washington terrorist attack. All flights out of Nairobi that day left
late. In the confusion they over booked our flight and assigned two
people my seat in the economy section. When told I must to squeeze into an inside seat, I
protested noting I had deliberately arrived three hours early to make sure I'd get an aisle
seat for the long flight. The Purser asked me to stand by while they got
things sorted out. Finally as we were about ready to take off, he motioned
me to follow him into the first class cabin.
What a joy. Much later I wondered if my
U.S. nationality might not have been a factor in deciding who would get
the upgrade. Seated next to me in first class sat the manager of a
supermarket in Legos. During our long conversations he invited me to visit his store should I need
assistance from someone local while in the country. Needless to say, first class is easy on the
psyche and I arrived in Legos ready for anything... or so I thought.
Nigeria is a haven for corrupt officials, confidence men and
opportunists of all kinds. First, there are the money laundering schemes-scams involving supposedly
frozen Nigerian oil company assets. I and many of you have gotten
letters or e-mail messages offering us unbelievably large sums of money
for merely allowing our domestic bank accounts to be conduits for all these
asserted ¨frozen account¨ funds. I don't know any one stupid or gullible enough
to have fallen for them. The CIA reportedly gets a hundred calls a
day from American victims or would-be victims.
Then, there are the illegal entry schemes leading to extortion payments
¨required¨ to arrange exit from the country. I made sure I had an
appropriate visa before going in. That did not eliminate hassles at the
airport, however. First, the immigration officer was playing some sort of
game with me that involved setting my passport aside for twenty minutes
while he processed all the other travelers on the pretext of calling my
name without response... as I stood expectantly and directly in front of
him the whole time.
Next, the gauntlet outside the baggage area for arriving passengers
surpassed even the horror stories I'd been hearing. Money changers, taxi
touts, would-be "friends," hotel "representatives,"
and the menacing curious swarmed around me, so close to my body I felt
certain someone had managed to pull something from my pockets. Twisting,
turning, slipping this way and that, all the while trying to make it clear
in poor French and English that I wanted no help from any of the scruffy
and menacing. Even that didn't seem to discourage the more determined of
the hoard.
Finally, a heavyset woman approached me and the crowd thinned a bit.
She claimed to be a government employee... yea sure. I asked to see some
identification and she had none (on her), but asked me to follow her back
to her "desk" where she kept it. Reluctantly, I followed. As it
turns out, she actually did manage a sort of government Travelers Aid
service for confused foreigners. I consider myself an experienced traveler
who has seen almost everything, but her help in locating my new friend in
the airport bedlam could not have been more welcome in this country.
Thinking back on the experience I realize the most intense sense of any
actual danger only lasted a few minutes. My own mind magnified the whole
intense affair.
I'd met Sanjeev Kamar, an Indian oil worker while waiting for the
flight to board in Nairobi. Upon learning I had no one waiting for me, nor
even a local contact in Nigeria, he insisted on giving me a ride into town
from the Legos Airport. He had told me vivid horror stories about the
dangers of unlicensed taxi drivers who never get you to your destination,
of people who disappeared while walking alone in Legos and of the hassles
to expect at the airport. He also told me that ex-pats of all nations look
out for one another while in Legos.
As I discovered first hand his predictions about the airport proved to
be right on. He had his driver meet us at the curb in a Mercedes limousine
and we were off in minutes. The half hour ride to town included an
attempted detour around some traffic congestion. As our driver deftly
wound his way through back streets and finally under an unpaved section of
the on-ramp, some guys had blocked the way with a ten foot log and
demanded tribute to pass. Without a second thought the driver swung his
car around and zipped back out the way he had come, muttering about
extortion and worse in the city. The driver spoke English and corroborated
all I had been hearing about Legos street crime.
Later at the U.S. Embassy I got the same advice with graphic
descriptions of some actual recent killings of Americans. Carjackings,
muggings and simple robberies all figure in the colorful stories everyone
is anxious to tell new comers. Apparently, well-informed foreign visitors
don't come to Nigeria with out solid contacts in the country to look after
them, often police or military escorts in the case of diplomatic
employees.
When we finally reached Victoria Island Sanjeev had his driver take us
around to several of the better hotels, all of which were fully booked.
Desperate, I settled for the first over priced ($90 cash only) rattrap we
had seen with a vacancy. As we parted, Sanjeev urged me to I take his
phone number in case I got into any trouble and needed a local contact.
Grateful as hell I thanked him for all his assistance and gladly took the
slip on which he had written his phone number.
At breakfast the next morning I shared a table with Gerado who works
for the Spanish Embassy in Legos. Again, he inquired who my local
contacts/protectors were. When I told him of my unbound expedition of
serendipity across Africa, he shook his head in disbelief adding that
Nigeria might not be the best place in Africa for that sort of free
wheeling travel. As I described my plans for the day he insisted I make
use of his car and driver until lunchtime (14:00 for the Spanish in
Nigeria). Trying to find another hotel, get around to all the consulates
on my list and investigate onward travel options should not be attempted
on foot, or even by taxi he told me. Again, he gave me his phone number in
case I got into trouble and needed a local contact. With all this very
welcome assistance I found it difficult to find fresh ways to express my extreme
appreciation.
I did find another hotel, the Kuramo Lodge ($100), an inexpensive annex
to the more expensive Meridian Hotel. Immediately after saying "good-bye" to
Gerado's driver I began exploring on foot, first in the vicinity of the
four star hotel, but later farther afoot. Eventually, I left the
relatively save confines of the island and ventured out into the
"dangerous" surrounding areas. Frankly, I saw nothing more
hazardous than crazy drivers. Near the hotel itself of course, there were
the usual predators and opportunists. But, even these were far tamer than
many others I've seen elsewhere in African. Eventually I wandered with
impunity. Nothing in my personal experience suggested I need be any more
vigilant than in any other normally dangerous large city. I did notice
that few people on the streets seemed to be happy, a lot of somber faces
as I passed.
The few cyber cafes I checked wanted the equivalent of $8 to $13 per
hour for Internet access. The English language newspapers published in
Nigeria all seemed to be written by ¨writers¨ who certainly would have
flunked my sixth grade English Composition classes. I couldn't believe how
illiterate the writers were. Embarrassing.
My efforts to get visas proved fruitless. The representative in the
Ghana consulate told me directly that visas for Americans could only be
obtained in our home country. That effectively blocked my onward ground
travel north along the coast of West Africa. Consulates for the other
countries I intended to visit in West Africa were all closed on the day I
had use of the borrowed car. As they were all located far from my hotel, I
never did manage to actually check them for visa availability.
None of the travel agents I contacted had modern information systems
and none could help me with flight alternatives. Finally, I resolved to
just go to the airport and take the first flight heading in the direction
I wanted. By now, I felt fed up with the whole country and decided to get
out as soon as I could manage. At the airport, airline offices open for
only a few hours on the day of a flight. I sat around the airport for most
of the day I left waiting for someone to sell me a ticket. With great
relief I left on the short flight to Abidjan Ivory Coast late in the day.
Peace,
Fred Bellomy 12 September 2001
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