Ebb and Flow. Here I go.

And so to London. I land with the usual mix of sadness and moroseness. I am sorry there is just no comparison between landing at MM in Lagos and Heathrow in London. In London I know exactly what is going to happen from the minute I land till I open my front door. In Lagos, well landing at all is usually the start of the unexpected. Surely this is what makes life exciting?

As usual we were greeted by the minimum wage, barely literate, immigration staff and their four legged friend – the drug sniffing dog. I would not be so resentful if not for all the ass sniffing. And as for the dog….. I then go through the charade of getting my passport checked. Yes it does look a bit scruffy. Yes there are bubbles under the plastic cover. Have you have been to Nigeria?. You will find that it is hot. Just like India or Pakistan where you come from. The heat and humidity have caused the bubbling. No I have not tampered with it. No I have not changed the photograph. If I had do you not think I would have chosen someone with a more chiselled jaw? Abeg my taxi is waiting.

The last few days in Lagos were a blur. Firstly my cousin’s wedding which unfortunately was overshadowed by the area boys posing as musikshans. One of the candidates for Lagos Governor made an appearance and all hell broke loose. Which is surprising as we were already in the company of two IGs (current and retired). Firstly he was travelling with his “security detail” consisting of area boys in suits. Secondly his aide was walking around with a big red bag from which he was dishing out packets of money to various wedding guests for whom the wedding became a side issue. It was not long before the sight of crisp notes led to all sorts of altercations. At one point this huge lady had the money man pinned against a table having brushed aside both the armed and unarmed security detail. Where is my share? she demanded leaning her full weight against him. The boy did not have a choice. This was a matter of life or breath.

I tried to engage the people on my table in discussion as per “do these people realise that this is the money that should be building their streets, providing water, electricity, food, education, healthcare that is being squandered like this? They all made the right noises but I get the feeling they were disappointed our table was not the beneficiary of a nice crisp packet of thousand naira notes. They were nodding in approval at my comments but their eyes were like this Tokunbos and their yeye talk talk. Please carry yaself back to London before you come and spoil show for us. Road ko. Road ni. Abi is it road we are going to eat?

To be honest the candidate looked embarrassed and ill at ease with the hoopla but then why travel around with a bagful of cash and a cabal of hoods? On the way to the wedding as we were coming into Awolowo road I had observed a convoy wherein one of the cars had security hanging on to the OUTSIDE of the car as they were zooming past us in the opposite direction. I had first though maybe it was OBJ but I then recognised these morons at the wedding. As the candidate was leaving they performed this same trick again. Can anyone tell me why it is necessary for them to ride on the outside of a speeding car in rush hour traffic? Who exactly is after their man? What has he done to warrant this sort of extra ordinary protection? Or are these guys just living in nolly land. What happens if\when he actually becomes Governor? Will they ride on top of the car? Of course nobody says to them Oi twat. Stop being silly and get down from there.

Coincidentally we were leaving the wedding at the same time as your Highness and the boys were up to their usual tricks. Much revving of engines, much running around pushing people here and there. Yours truly was watching all this as I was walking beside them when my family started shouting “tokunbo, jo kuro legbe won. Were ma lawon eleyi. Jo ma sumo won oh” (Toks please move away from them. These people are mad . don’t go near them oh). Naturally this was like a red flag to a bull. I am Aries after all. So I started mouthing as to how this is my country, I can walk wherever I like, we cannot allow these touts and their hooligans to take over and we be cowering like tenants that have not paid rent etc etc. So now my sister and mother are exchanging looks like hmm are we really sure we should be encouraging this one to come home? E be like say this Oyinbo people don enter hin head pata pata. Will he be able to survive in this environment? Olurun ma shanu wa oh. (God help us). I fully expected them to drop to their knees and start calling on Allah right there such was the look of pity on their faces.

As previously mentioned the PDP really was bring held at the same day in the same area. You would have thought therefore that it would be one of the safest parts of town. But hell no. I am led to believe that the area boys and banditos were out in full force within the very vicinity of the Nigeria hierarchy and their massive security details. So where were the police and what were they doing? I soon found out when I got back to the hotel to be met by all sorts of luxury cars and 4x4s with blacked out windows and no number plates. On the first floor of the hotel there is a little reception area in which there were gathered about a dozen heavily armed policemen. Is the President staying here I wondered? Oh no. It is the WIFE of a party big shot (name withheld to protect the erm idiotic). So if she has a dozen you can bet your ass that her hubby must have two. If he has two then you can bet your ass again that somebody has three and so on. So ordinary citizens of Nigeria when you read about all these robberies and people getting killed willy nilly and you wonder where the cops are please let me guide you to a little hotel in VI or Abuja. (separate post on Police to follow).

The band that was booked for the wedding reception showed up just as the last of the guests were packing their bags. As usual they had a barrage of excuses but we all knew that they had double booked and had gone to play at another occasion before making their way to us. This is way these clowns always want their money up front so that they can screw you with impunity. No brake, no jam , no morals. Abi no be so? Oya, let the owanbe begin.

In the last week in Lagos I was driven around in a BMW X5, Merc ML320 and a Range Rover Vogue. The owners of these cars were all relatives, under 40 and self employed – legitimately - so please don’t tell me there is no money in Naija. My man with the RR is a property developer. He showed me around some of his places in Lekki and Ikoyi and I can honestly say that you could have picked up those properties and moved them to London and New York and they would have fit right in. The standard of work was just superb. The doors and walls were even straight for goodness sakes. The others are a lawyer and a petrol dealer. So my peeps things are happening. Don’t believe the hype.

So how was the trip? As usual it was an eye opening. What we in the diaspora go through in a year you can sometimes go through in a day. From the boys that dig up the roads to slow down traffic so they can sell their wares or at night rob you to the young guns (pardon the pun) that are saying damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Naija is not perfect but then where is? Everywhere you turn there are opportunities. The zeal for entrepreneurship in Najia is the highest I have ever come across in any part of the world. Doing a deal is a daily part of life ( I was in the toilets of a high class hotel in Abuja and noticed that the pot idol working there was running a side business selling what I assume are left over toiletries to the security guards from a plastic bag under the sinks. I mean come on. Genius or what?)

One final thing. I get a call from my sister as I am in the airport lounge. Apparently she has just read in the paper that the Minister is predicting that blackouts are imminent. As in, coming soon, which is my understanding of the word imminent. Unfortunately someone forgot to tell the minister that most parts of Suru- Lere had not had regular , if any electricity for over a week. Imminent my ass. Oga it is already here oh. We both laughed our heads off about this for some perverse reason. Naija does that to you. Perversity and laughter. You can’t help it.

And so it was that two weeks passed like a blur and I am now back in the UK watching the minute hand of the clock crawl its way around. I can hear something ticking. It is not my biological clock. It is my Naija clock calling me back home. I cannot wait.