Killing me softly.

So here I am in sunny Lagos. As ever there is the usual mix of excitement and trepidation. Having arrived on a Saturday there was no drama at the airport but the usual drama at the hotel. Here is what happens. My company books in advance. They confirm. I arrive. They look at me like "yes what do you want? Why are you standing in the front of our desk with luggage like say you want check in? Your room never ready. Oya Yakubu, Oga has arrived oh. Go and tell that woman for Room 210 say the person wey get the room don arrive so she have to vacation immediately. Oga please do you care for coffee while you wait?" By the time I have had coffee, tea, biscuit, amala and efo and just about to move on to suya the room will finally be ready. No point asking why it cannot be ready before I actually arrive. That would be logical. Not the kind of currency you can spend in Naija.

So the last two times I have stayed here there has been no hot water in the morning for my showers. Each morning I wake up jump in the shower only to jump out 2 minutes later to finish bathing myself oyinbo style - wet towel wipedown. So for this booking I send then email say if no hot water then no money. Full and final. No discussion. So this morning I am already calculating the credit they will have to put on my credit card when I switch on the shower only to start singing like Mariah Carey. I turn tap left, na boiling hot water. I turn am right. Na scalding hot water. So hot even my clothes wey dey hang for cupboard no need ironing again. Men. These people. So I come to figure out that if I stand for the other end of the bath just dey let the steam stroke my body I can still be fully cleaned and leave with some skin still left on my body. I am tempted to complain but I already know what their response will be. Oga, no be you send he-mail say you want hot water for baff? Wharrehell?

My regular mode of transport is car hire taxis. Normally this is a Camry. But over my last two trips the Camry boys have been acting up and have been kicked to the curb(pardon the pun) by the hotel. So this morning I found myself in a Mercedes. Let me clarify. It had a Mercedes badge on the back, I am sure it had a Mercedes engine and I am sure under close examination Mercedes themselves will admit they made a car that resembled it back in 1970 but other than that it was a kabu kabu. Now call me Ajebutter oh, I don't mind, but I must have AC in Naija and this car had something. It wasn't exactly AC but let's call it AA. Now this thing had the dial you use to set the temperature but I soon got to understand that I could either be hot or cold. No in between. Ok. Pneumonia it is. Off we go.

I am sitting in the front as I always do ( u don see mumu abi). Siddon for back make robbers come think say na one oga pata pata. Na lie oh. Once I knack my glasses me sef I am like security guard for front. Come and try your luck. So I entered the front of the car and tried to move the sit back. I then learned that you can either move the seat back and actually be sitting further back than the people in the back seat or you can leave it where it is and kiss the windscreen every time an okada crosses. I chose the home boy option. So now they are very big on people wearing seat belts in Lagos for safety reasons. And a lot of people in Lagos do wear their seatbelts for safety reasons. The safety of their wallet. Because once the boys in Purple, Blue, Orange , Beige or Green nab you (Lagos has more traffic uniforms than any other city I have been in) , you can speak all the grammatical that your papa sent you to Jand for however you must still pay anything from N3k to N12k. On this basis I decided to use my seat belt. See I should have known when I saw the first plume of dust coming from the hole where the seatbelt is pulled from. But I was not paying attention so that is how I now ended up with a stripe down the front of my suit and shirt from all the dust accumulated there when I strapped myself in. You live you learn. Next time I will sit in the back and take my chances with the armed robbers.

So meetings here and there, igba , awo, the driver then tellls me that Oga he has to go and buy petrol. I say petrol? I have seen the queues. When will you be back. He says tomorrow. Hmm let's take some time to think about this. You picked me up from VI. We are now in Suru- Lere. You want to go to VI to buy petrol. How the hell do you think I will get back to my hotel? Oga in that case I suggest we better go. Oya.Oya. Quick. Quick. In the car he then tells me he had a full tank this morning oh. Hard to believe as we had only been in VI for a couple of hours and two places in Suru-Lere. He then says and oh by the way we cannot use AC otherwise I will have to end up pushing the car. Emi ke? I beg wind down all the windows jare. Even open the doors sef.

As we are entering VI he then says Oga the thing don enter red oh and then he starts to cut up everybody on the road even outrunning the currency transfer mobile police with their blasting sirens and armed escorts (any minute I was expecting the bullets or the kobo kobo to start flying).

Anyway we made it to the hotel safely and he has now gone off to get fuel. I get to the hotel room and something just doesn't feel quite right. It then dawn on me that my mouth tastes like a sewer ( I imagine) and my breathing is rather laboured. I am therefore reduced to drinking gallons of water (actually small bottles of water. At N300 for the small bottles I am damn sure I cannot afford the gallon) to clear my mouth and throat and then lying down for a rest.

It then occurs to me that you often read in the papers about some poor sod dropping dead suddenly and wonder why. Now I know.

Btw- we are off again at 9 am tomorrow. Your prayers are most welcome.