Caboose

I’m still enjoying all the things I missed while I was in Nigeria. I’ve also been occasionally looking after my nephew and niece:

Wandering around Stirling I’ve noticed a few things. The first is how few people there are on the streets. Outside the main shopping areas you meet few pedestrians, everyone seems to be in cars. Stirling town centre is also full of CCTV cameras.
(that’s Queen Street)

The second thing was how many signs there are. That’s official signs, rather than Nigeria’s profusion of advertising banners and political posters. Signs to warn you of penalties for not cleaning up after your dog, signs to identify lampposts, road traffic instruction signs and directional signs. Road signs in Nigeria are particularly bad, there are standard signs defined but various authorities each use different ones instead.

I spent the weekend visiting my Grandparents down in Norfolk, Eleanor was there as well. We took our usual walk down to Wroxham Broad:

Coming back from living in Nigeria there’s bound to be some reverse culture shock, I was expecting it. At the moment I’m actually just enjoying things like being able to turn on a tap and knowing water will come out.

A few things are strange:

1. Getting on a bus (capacity of around 50 passengers) and not only does it leave before it’s full but the whole bus is carrying fewer passengers than the typical Kaduna minibus (10+ people in a Toyota Liteace).
2. Bottled water: this seems ridiculous to me. Why buy bottled water in a country where the tap water is perfectly safe? Just think of the waste in producing, packaging and transporting it.
3. Signs: there are signs everywhere, many telling you what you’re not allowed to do, but also providing useful information like where you are and how to get to other places.
4. Greetings: instead of being expected to enquire about someone’s work, family and how they slept the usual greeting in a shop is a quick “hiya”.

I just went back and started updating the posts from my trip round northern Nigeria in July.

As well as a farewell tour I was being paid by Bradt to do the research for northern Nigeria for the second edition of their Nigeria guidebook.

I’m currently sitting in Schiphol airport, waiting for my flight to Edinburgh. I’m also in the slightly strange state of mind caused by not sleeping and eating meals at very odd times (dinner around 2330, breakfast around 0400).

One thing I’ve noticed on flights to and from Nigeria is that the Nigerians tend to wear Western clothes going to Europe and Nigerian clothes on the way back to Nigeria. I’m guessing that this might have something to do with the attitudes of European officials. For example, you may be less likely to get hassle from immigration if you’re wearing jeans than if you’re in full babanriga. On the other hand, Nigerian officials will treat you better if you look like a big man. I’m sure there are other explanations…

Later today I should be arriving at Edinburgh airport to be shocked by the change from hot and humid Abuja to cold and windy Scotland. Last I heard it’s going to be my sister, niece and nephew picking me up, should be fun. Will little Eve still recognise me?

I spent most of last night going through my house, deciding which things to take home, which to throw out and which to dash to people. Today is my last day in the office, so I’m tidying things up and emptying my desk. NTI have organised a send-forth dinner for me at the Arewa Chinese Restaurant tonight, so I’m going to have to pack my bags this afternoon.

So, next time I post here I’ll either be back in Scotland or on my way there. It’s goodbye to Nigeria (for now at least) and the end of my time as a VSO.

My next plan is a (short) round-the-world trip, the current itinerary is:

At the weekend I had a small goodbye party in Kaduna. Marion and Monique were around and Helen and Julia came through from Akwanga and Jos.

We went to the NAF club on Friday night; for a hike near NTI on Saturday; to PDP Saturday evening and had a lovely buffet lunch at the French Café on Sunday.

At the end of Saturday’s hike we were all hot and desperate for a mineral, so we stopped at a small shop in Rigacikun. Within minutes a huge crowd of children surrounded us, watching our every move with great interest. The shopkeeper occasionally tried to chase them off but they always came back straight away.

I’ll see if I can borrow some photos from one of the others to add to this post.

There won’t be any more pictures on this site until I get home, because some scumbag stole my camera. I may still be able to add the odd blurry and poor-quality picture from my phone though.

I had to travel to Abuja for a meeting with the new country director, so it was the usual early start to get to Kawo motor park. The Abuja car was almost full, so while we were waiting I hung around watching my rucksack in the boot. Thefts in motor parks are quite unusual but today I was being a bit more careful because mine was the only bag in the boot.

As soon as the last passenger appeared the staff from the NURTW (the National Union of Road Transport Workers, one of the major obstacles to effective transport in Nigeria) hurried us into the car and closed the doors. They left the boot open for a few minutes, during which time I couldn’t see my bag but could see uniformed union officials at the back of the car.

The journey to Abuja was uneventful, there was the usual morning delay at the expressway junctions for Kubwa and Dutse and the car was even more of a wreck than is normal.

Once I got to the VSO office I discovered that my little Sony Clié PDA was missing from it’s usual home in the top of my bag. I distinctly remembered putting it in there before leaving the house, so I was worried straight away.

A bit later I checked inside the bag, in case I’d put it there instead, to find an empty baby lotion bottle, an empty bottle of perfume and a broken Ericsson mobile phone! When I checked my camera case in the side pocket my camera had been replaced by an empty bottle of deodorant.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and the whole journey back to Kaduna fuming. I’m finding that living in Nigeria is making me an angrier person, today I was struggling not to give in to outbursts of rage. It didn’t help that all the union officials had cleared off home by the time I got back to Kawo.

As there’s a police station inside the motor park I thought I might as well report the theft, not expecting much from the Nigeria Police Force (except possibly an attempt to extract money from me). I was pleasantly surprised when the officer at the front desk was immediately sympathetic and helpful, hand-writing a form for me to write my statement and going out to try and find the union chairman.

It’s one of the problems of living in Nigeria, you hear so many bad things about the police that it’s a surprise when they do their job. The officers at Kawo have to put up with almost no resources and a crumbling, mosquito-infested station that has been half-demolished to put up a block of shops. The officer took my number and said he’d talk to the union officials and get back to me tomorrow.

Getting such a helpful response has calmed me down. I’m still angry but no longer snapping at people and growling.

The worst thing isn’t the loss of the camera or PDA, both were quite old and the camera was becoming unreliable and needed replacing. It’s the fact that the PDA contains my address book, so the thieves have access to that. If you get strange calls from Nigeria I apologise.

This coming after yesterday, when somebody tried to bribe me (can’t give any more details here). It’s like all the bad things people tell you about Nigeria have been waiting for my last month. At this rate I’ll be getting kidnapped next week!

I don’t hold out much hope of ever seeing my camera and PDA again but on a positive note I’ve discovered that at least one policeman in Nigeria is prepared to do his job without a dash.

We’ve finished our work at the South-South and South East zonal offices for now, so after an early start we got back to Kaduna around two o’clock today.

Returning to Kaduna was a little bit more interesting than usual. On the bypass – close to the Kronenberg brewery – a tanker had overturned, blocking one carriageway and most of the other one. A huge crowd had assembled, carrying plastic containers, presumably in the hope of getting some free fuel, some people never learn. The police and National Emergency Management Agency were just standing about, making no effort to keep people away from the spilled fuel.

Fortunately it didn’t smell like petrol, it might have been kerosene, so less likely to explode but still not something you want to hang around. The police directed us to drive right past the tanker, through the puddle of whatever it was. A few minutes later as we continued along the road a fire engine passed in the other direction.

Further round the bypass our driver discovered that he couldn’t change gear any more. We stopped and he fetched a mechanic. It seems that one end of the rod connecting the gear lever to the gear box had dropped off. While the mechanic was fixing that the driver had to change one of the tyres, which was pretty flat. Once the mechanic was finished I got to see how Nigerian mechanics clean oil off their hands, no Swarfega required. Just get your apprentice to remove the fuel line from the carburettor, suck out some petrol and spit it on your hands. The poor kid had to do this a few times before the mechanic was happy, I went and bought him a bag of water to rinse out his mouth.

Petrol (quite apart from being very flammable), is also not at all good for you.

I’m sitting in a hotel bar in Benin City, drinking Crystal beer brewed at the Bendel Brewery next door.

On the label it gives the strength as “5% +- 0.5%”. This is a lot more honest than other Nigerian beers, claiming to be exactly 5.2% when everyone knows it’s more like “somewhere between 2 and 8 percent”.

This week I’m down in Enugu and Benin City, continuing our work at NTI’s zonal offices.
I’m waiting for the carpenter and electrician to finish, watching TV. An advert just came on for a book launch: “100 Reasons Why IBB is a Great Man”. That’s IBB the former military dictator, looter of the Nigerian Treasury, political godfather and self-proclaimed “evil genius” (he’s half right). The book launching’s supported by the current Senate leader.