Conflicted

A week or so ago Lagos showed another facet of its personality. It was a British Council film screening and it showcased the outcome of a project bringing West African amateur documentary makers together with UK film makers. They all made documentaries about aspects of African or UK life.

The one that struck me the most was a beautiful short film about a young man and a 101-year old in Sierra Leone, the poorest country in the world. A simple story, two main characters, stills of Freetown, accompanied by soulful tunes and stunning scenery, the way poverty and decay can look scenic [only] on camera. The protagonists told touching tales in pigeon of the hardships they experienced during the civil war that tore up their nation. They had both lost their loved ones – the old man was looking for support from the wall he always sat by, it had become his only companion and family; and the young man, intelligent and ambitious but unemployed and without any possibilities to get work, told of the desire of many of his countrymen to go abroad. He himself was conflicted about the prospects of a better life in the west: “Who would take care of my country if everyone left to go to another man’s land?”

There was another interesting film about a young inventor in Kano who worked on developing technologies that utilize solar energy, but lack of funds had put his project on hold. Those that did approach him were all interested in getting the blueprint of his invention, not to contribute investment so that he could develop his ideas. He highlighted the huge impact of no electricity on people’s productivity and ultimately their way of life. And it is true: the power goes (several times a day) and at once all industries come to a standstill. Machines will not work, computers stop functioning and people, for lack of options, just go to sleep in their shops or offices or loiter around to pass time. Once you get into the habit, it is hard to get out of it. Amidst these conditions there is so much talent that gets wasted. It may be a development agency slogan, but capacity building and funding really is key, we are just so privileged in our well-organised North, never having to battle against institutional and infrastructural barriers of such magnitude.

I have a thing for outdoor cinema and the fact that the films were shown outside, in the shady garden of the British Council, far away from the smells and sounds of the street made it a very relaxing evening… But I think I was getting ahead of myself! Later I found out that both CFC’s drivers were rounded up by the police when they were on their way home after having driven us back to the office. Emanuel, the poor thing, was even arrested, for no reason whatsoever and Chichi, one of my colleagues at the office, was woken up at 5am in the morning by the police saying “Madame, we need money.”. It is that blatant - when they are running low on cash, they just detain as many people as they can and hold them till they pay up! Outrageous! And Yemisi had a few stories to add about police corruption. When one of her security guards drowned in their pool, the police came out to investigate and tried every trick in the book to squeeze money out of them, upon seeing their big house. They even had her husband, who is a lawyer, and her 60-year old mother in-law locked up in a cell, on the grounds of suspicion of murder. It is only after a few phone calls to various high officials the family knew, that they got released without having to pay bail!

Connections is a must to get anything done in Nigeria. Getting a land line installed or a new electricity meter from NEPA can go in a blink of an eye, but only if you make the right phone calls. Otherwise they ‘419’ you, as they say – an expression for cheating and scamming. And this cuts across all segments of society. We recently found out, the mechanic CFC always has used, has for years charged triple the actual price of some car spare part. Well, he was not in my good books anyway since the clutch story but apparently they are all the same, so the attitude is ‘better the devil you know’.

I have just returned from a lavish holiday to the Niger Delta. 5 days of relaxation while Nigeria was counted… I went with Temi, a cool girl who’s lived all over the world and has been travelling in Central America for the past few months. We swam in the river, had good food, chilled on the grounds, rode bikes and visited some of my friends from VSO, Roseanne and Simon, in Umutu, a nearby village. The trip showed the Africa I had dreamt of: lush scenery, crystal waters, the sounds of nature surrounding you. But it is only granted for a precious few, those who can afford it. Generally Nigeria is full of noise and people and the notion of privacy is non-existent. For example when we visited Roseanne, we found out that the other neighbours of her compound just come and gather round her telly every day, 4-5 people popping in and out, they make themselves comfortable and keep her company whether she needs it or not. One of the guys in fact diverted all his calls to her phone because his was charging and he expected to be in her place anyway. I think I am lucky to live alone, even if it does get quiet at times.

Speaking of the sounds and creatures of nature – Nigeria may not have the zebra herds or buffaloes of Kenya, but it certainly is not lacking in wildlife! I have seen the largest cockroaches ever... unfortunately a bit too close… one was on my skirt, and I lost my cool and spilled all the wine I had out onto the tablecloth trying to shake it off. And just the night before I got a proper scare. We were sitting by the riverside and Roseanne said “Don’t move, there is a big black spider near you” I froze and imagined it crawling somewhere on my body. Then she said “It’s got black fangs, maybe it is poisonous” In my head I could already see the headlines ‘Girl stung by lethal spider in the delta, ends up dead’. As it turned out, the ‘spider’ was a black scorpion, so certainly poisonous, but at least it was not on my body, just crawling under my chair. The gate man at the river resort killed it with a stick and the next morning I took a close look at it once I was sure it was dead. I told the story to some of Roseanne’s musketeers and they laughed it off saying, it will only swell a little if they sting you. I think not! But there is a laissez fair attitude to personal safety on all levels. Like when someone just left their luggage in the waiting lounge and wandered off at the airport in Warri yesterday. As Warri is a hotspot for kidnappings, rebel activity etc. it is not all too impossible to imagine that someone would like to blow up the airport, where a lot of oil execs transit, into bits. But the security guards were not fazed by our request to locate the owner of the bags and even other passengers thought we were ridiculous because held our ground. Eventually a very frustrated lady appeared to claim her bags - she could not believe why the oyibo was stressing. But little by little I will change Nigeria, believe you me :)

A month-old in Nigeria

Time must be flying because I realized I have been in Nigeria for a month now. On Friday I had my first beer by night in Lagos. Not as exotic as one might have hoped – a visit to a pub called the Londoner in Ikeja GRA. This is the nice part of Ikeja, where government officials’ housing used to be, but now well-to-do Nigerians irrespective of profession live here. The GRA has a few bars and clubs but most of the nightlife action seems to be in VI, which means an hour’s drive on the notorious bridge. Looks like I will have to make friends with some VI expats, so I can spend the night if out late.

Not the original, but the current-day, Shrine is in Ikeja, and so is Lagbaja’s club Motherlan’. Fela’s son, Femi Kuti, apparently plays at the Shrine when he is in Lagos and that is a definite must. On Saturday Chantal stayed at my place and we cooked and had a meal in the garden. The weather was balmy and there was lovely music floating around in the air till late. It sounded more like calypso or some other Caribbean type of rhythm and I got so curious, I found a ladder in the garden and leaned it towards the fence to climb up and try and see where the music was coming from. I couldn’t locate the sound, but got talking to the neighbours and they said Kingstine Joe was the bar hosting the performance. If Kingstine is meant to be Kingston, as in Kingston Town, then it even makes sense. Chantal and I decided we would investigate further next weekend and do a bar crawl in Ikeja.

The secret ingredient to making this plan come true is finding a local musketeer to accompany us – it is not entirely relaxing to go out just two white girls to bars or clubs. I will have to ask one of my colleagues. But they are mostly married and sadly during the time I have been here two of the staff’s close relatives have passed away - one’s father and another’s sister - so naturally this further restricts the pool of interested people for a night out. They bore their grief with such dignity and both colleagues came into the office same day they got the news to make sure nothing was left at a loose end. Already a few days later they were back working. I think faith is an important factor in the grieving process here. There is a deeprooted acceptance in the ‘lord giveth and he taketh’ spirit. Noone mentions what the cause of death is when someone has passed away. But a lot of things go through one’s mind, pondering the fragility of life. So many die prematurely here for all sorts of reasons.

Today I was talking to a Ugandan VSO, Julius, who works with HIV/AIDS awareness raising and testing and he confirms that the disease is very stigmatized. Officially 5% of Nigerians are infected, which makes them one of the most affected countries in the world. However, the truth may be much much more chocking than that. Julius’ organization finds that 22% of those tested are actually HIV positive. In some subsegments of society HIV is carried by the majority – for example young mechanics is a huge target group. They often have money and, sadly, buying sex is a well-entrenched custom, as is having many girlfriends on the side, even though married. As the most populous country in Africa this has devastating consequences, yet funding available to combat the disease is only a drop in the sea and cultural barriers and ignorance continue to stand in the way for proper prevention.

Poverty strikes on so many levels – lack of education translates into ignorance about vital issues concerning health, sanitation or the environment. And to make things worse people have become jaded and cynical, distrustful of the establishment. In fact a big dilemma in Nigeria today is how to reach the most vulnerable groups. Lagos, not unlike Rio, has some of the largest and most notorious slums in the world. Patrolled by ‘area boys’ they are dangerous to enter and this makes outreach and advocacy almost impossible.

CFC is in the starting phase of getting involved in a project that would entail empowering slum dwellers to document the issues they face living in such poor conditions. To tell the story their own way, they would get a camera and help with editing their shots into a 20-minute documentary, which will be shown at a UN-backed conference in Canada. This sounds like such an exciting project, but the challenges to find someone who is willing to open up and who wants to affect social change are enormous. Most people who have had contacts with this segment of society warn that youth in the slums want money for any kind of participation, even if it is meant to benefit their own situation. And why should they not be disillusioned and callous? Time after time society has let them down or forgotten about them. To a large extent this is the problem in the Niger Delta as well. The locals feel that they are being stripped of their main resource without any investment going back into the local community and they perceive that the rest of Nigeria and the world are reaping the fruits of their hard labour.

Now back to my micro cosmos. Earlier in the week I visited Chantal in Ojota, a neighbourhood not too far from me by Lagos standards. In the morning I tested getting to work by public. Ojota bus stop is a rowdy place. By now I am quite used to the shouting and staring, but in Ojota they were pulling and grabbing me and that is not on. I was under the impression there was a riot, even though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. The crowd was huge and spilled into the road, having very little regard for the ruthless traffic. I have often wondered how come not more people are run over or bump each other. But I think the whole organized chaos of Lagos works on some sort of fragile equilibrium, where pedestrians and cars perform an intricate dance: people ducking away in the last minute or cars screachily coming to a halt seconds before they actually bulldozer you down. All the while beggars and streetsellers are zigzagging between the vehicles, making it impossible to concentrate on what is going on in the traffic. The number of people with deformities is unbelievable, and they push themselves around amidst traffic on little skateboard-type constructions: invalids with deformed limbs, stumps instead of legs, humps on their backs, twisted, crooked extremities. The walking bridges over expressways are a favored spot for them to beg as they are quite narrow and it is hard to get past. But what can one do? There is a new invalid/blind person/malnourished child at every corner and I am already noticing that I am beginning to become immune to all these people in great need.

I went to Lekki market with Chantal on Saturday to find the film, City of God. I wanted to put on a screening at the office to kickstart the slum dweller project. To my disappointment they did not have City of God in the pirated DVD stalls – however they did have about a 1000 copies of White Chicks… and most of the other blockbuster American movies that are being released on the other side of the pond. The pirate releases of these films often concur with the actual US premiere - if there is one thing Nigerian’s have mastered it is how to get fake anything, from DVDs to computers to passports. Nevertheless the market was good fun and I ended up buying lots of things I don’t really need: little brass pendants from Ghana, peanuts and earrings.

And today the shopping spree continued. We went to the beach, Tarkwa Bay, which is a 25min boat ride from VI. I was hoping for a quiet day on the beach but the beach sellers decided otherwise and in the end it was quite fun to bargain from the comfort of a beach chair and be presented with jewelry, sarongs, cold drinks, fruits and handcrafts. I bought a flowy batik dress and a turquoise sarong for a total of 600 Naira, which is less than $5. Then a funny but a bit too persistent sand shark insisted on buying me some bracelets and a necklace so I came back to the mainland with quite a bounty.

And the list of well-doers continued. I got on a bus that ended up going somewhere different than my destination. So a bossy African madame, who basically got everyone on the bus involved, told off the conductor for not dropping the white woman at the right spot and she ended up taking me along in her taxi and would not let me pay. She was wonderful – as soon as she got into the bus, she asked one man for 20 Naira because she needed to pay the street vendor who’d sold her some yam, another was told to hold her shopping bags while she was rearranging her head tie. It did not occur to anyone to disobey her, and eventually all her ‘assistants’ were all rewarded with a “Godbless”. Who says Africans are patriarchal? Some women certainly are calling the shots.

I finally had to take a bike from the bus stop to my house and the okada driver said he recognized me from the neighbourhood. He said ‘I see you every day around Allen Avenue. Like you I am a foreigner as well, so I cannot accept any payment’. Isn’t that something? Nigeria has such a bad reputation for dishonesty and people trying to squeeze money out of foreigners every step of the way, and then I meet all this hospitality and generosity, from people who do not have much themselves. I think we should all remember not to give in to stereotypes and generalizations: there are good, competent, clever, warm-hearted people everywhere in the world irrespective of nationality.