A
British Journalist and BBC reporter, David Hayward shares his
experience in Nigeria after a short visit here. Read the article below:
Earlier
this year, I was approached to do some media consultancy in Nigeria.
I’d just left the BBC after 18 years, to set up my own business, so this
seemed a great opportunity. I spoke to a number of friends and former
colleagues. I’d heard many stories about Nigeria, seen the reports on
Boko Haram and had my own impressions of sub Saharan Africa.
The advice fell into two camps:
a) Don’t go, you’ll get kidnapped or catch malaria. Either way, you’re going to die.
b)
Nigeria is a nightmare. When you arrive, you’ll be swamped by hustlers
trying to rip you off, steal your luggage and all your money. If they
don’t get you, the corrupt police officers and officials will.
I
was mainly to be based in Asaba, the capital of the Delta State, one
of, if not the biggest, oil producing states is Nigeria. In an attempt
to be a bit more thorough with my research than asking a few old mates, I
contacted the office of BBC Media Action in Abuja.
The
fairly pragmatic response was: “We treat the Delta State as a hostile
environment. It’s an oil producing area and there is a strong risk of
kidnapping. However if you have armed security, this risk will be
slightly reduced”. I took this to be reassuring and made sure an armed
security clause was written into my contract. I spent some time talking
to my wife Jo and children about the prospect of going to Nigeria.
Jo’s
attitude was: “For God’s sake, this is exactly what you love doing. The
more dangerous a place the better the stories. You’ll be able to show
off and bore people senseless about roadblocks, men with guns and how
brave you are”. Buoyed by this I accepted the work and prepared for
Asaba. I got my visa, all the vaccinations I could fit into my arm and
made sure I had a small mountain of malaria tablets.
I
really didn’t know what to expect from Nigeria. It’s easy to fall into
preconceptions that Africa is all about war, famine, corruption and
poachers killing endangered animals.
I
caught the overnight BA fli1around the site to cater for a mass of
cargo. About ten minutes drive away, just across the Niger Bridge, is
the city of Onitsha. One of the busiest markets in Africa. You can buy
almost anything there.
I
was to travel in and out of the airport several times in the next five
weeks. Each time something new was completed. The baggage carousel,
lacking when we first flew in, was fully operational the next time. So
were the check-in areas and the very plush departures hall.
The
next morning was the first venture out. Yinka and I decided to go for a
bit of a run. It seemed sensible to set off early because of the heat
and to avoid the risk of being kidnapped or shot at. So at 6am we were
off. About a minute into the jog we approached a group of somewhat hard
looking men with very big guns. They were guarding the gates to our
compound. This is not a sight I’m used to on my normal runs in rural
Leicestershire, in the UK.
Anxious
to appear as inconspicuous as possible I tried to sneak past, not
drawing too much attention to myself, convinced I was about to be
arrested. However quite the opposite. We were greeted with cheers of
“Good morning sir, well done, how far?”.
Once
I had composed myself from the shock, very nearly tripping over in a
sweaty heap, we continued our circuits. Every time we passed someone we
had the same greeting. It began to feel as though we had our own troupe
of heavily armed cheerleaders. (Or should that be troop?)
This
was quite an introduction to what, I began to realize, was one of the
most friendly countries I have been to. This is a genuine friendliness.
It is not a means to get to know you and rip you off.
The
following few weeks continued to surprise me – and to make me feel very
embarrassed about my initial preconceptions. I’ve been lucky enough to
visit a whole range of places in the Delta State. The TV and radio
stations need some work, but the staff are young, enthusiastic and very
hard working. Warri, the oil centre, is a thriving hub that is only
going to get bigger, with the construction of the largest business park
in West Africa. The sign at our hotel was a bit disconcerting. It asked
everyone carrying guns to make sure they weren’t loaded – which was
nice.
The
University Teaching Hospital in Oghara is as well equipped as any I
have been to in the UK or the rest of Europe. There are state of the art
CT and MRI scanners, a world class renal unit and 25 paediatric
intensive care beds.
The
journey to the hospital gave me the first opportunity to see a proper
Nigerian village. This was far closer to what I had been expecting. The
goats and cattle roaming the dusty roads, the food stalls cooking
chicken, fish and corn over open fires. Dozens of bars with dodgy
looking satellites, advertisingthe latest football matches live. When we
slowed down, or stopped the car we were surrounded by two groups. The
children pointing at me were shouting Oyibo, Oyibo (white man) and
teenagers trying to sell anything from palm wine to cola nuts, to the
latest mobile phones.
Now
I can’t be sure, but I don’t think the iPhone 5 I was offered for 5000
naira (about £20) was as genuine as it could be. All of this was done
with great fun and humour. If you chose to, you could buy everything you
needed from your car. If you didn’t, that was fine too.
About Suicidal Okada
The
transport system is far from perfect but all the roads we’ve driven on
are absolutely fine. The most interesting experience was seeing the
suicidal Okada motorcycle taxis in full force for the first time. They
have been banned in Delta State and replaced by three-wheel kekes. But
this is certainly not the case in Onitsha. It is about a fifteen-minute
journey from the centre of Asaba, but it could be on another planet.
You
drive over the Niger Bridge, enter the neighbouring state and a
different world. One where thousands of the small machines ferry people
and any goods you can think of around. We saw one driver with four
passengers, two adults and two children precariously balanced in front
and behind him. Oil barrels containing God knows what, weighing heavily
on the clearly inadequate suspension. I was told someone had seen an
Okada carrying a donkey, strapped to the driver as though he was giving
it a piggy back. I don’t know if I believe this, but, from what I saw in
Onitsha that day, I can’t rule it out.
The
drivers are quite mad. We were there for about a minute before our car
had its first near miss. We were to have many more in the next half an
hour, with the rules of the road, like driving in the same direction on a
dual carriageway, simply ignored.
The
noise is deafening. As the Okadas rev their tiny engines, they sound
like a swarm of very loud insects buzzing inside your head. You very
soon begin to choke on the fumes of burning oil and petrol. It was quite
a relief to cross back over the bridge into the far more serene and
calm home ground of Asaba. The welcome I have had everywhere is
stunning. On one occasion I interviewed a senior state commissioner. It
turned out it was his birthday. He kindly invited me to his party that
evening. I didn’t really know anyone else going – so felt a little
uncomfortable. No need. When I arrived he insisted I sit with him.
He
made sure my glass was never empty and my plate constantly filled. I
was introduced to everyone and made to feel an honored guest.
There
was a downside to this. The comedian who anchored the programme took
quite a shine to me….. “Ahhh give it up for the white man, where are you
from”?
This
was followed by ten minutes of him royally taking the **** out of me. I
understood about one word in ten, but by the reaction of everyone else,
it was obviously very amusing. So much for being inconspicuous.
About the Premier League
But
the worst was still to come. People began standing up and paying
tribute to the Commissioner. He is a very popular guy. Halfway through
the speeches the comedian spotted me once again. “Does the white man
want to speak”. I stood, said a few words and wished he would see his
children’s children and his children’s children’s children. This
appeared to be the toast de jour and went down very well. The evening
ended with lots of photographs being taken and many new good friends.
The
one thing you cannot escape in Nigeria is the love of the English
Premier League. I have so far failed to meet another Leicester City fan,
an obvious shame, but there are millions of diehard Manchester United,
Arsenal and Chelsea supporters.
Watching
the Liverpool v Man Utd game at the Asaba viewing centre, with
thousands of people wearing the respective replica kits, was one hell of
an experience, although my eardrums may take some time to recover.
There is no doubting their passion. They may not have been to Old
Trafford, The Emirates or Stamford Bridge, but the passion they exuded
was clear. I’m not sure what ‘come on ref,’ or ‘what was that you idiot’
is in pidgin, but I heard it several times that day.
The
viewing centre was created by the governor of Delta State, Dr. Emmanuel
Uduaghan. He is an Arsenal supporter. I met him once while playing
tennis. For some reason he didn’t seem very impressed by my love of
Leicester City. I simply don’t understand why.
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