I'm On A Boat

A few weekends ago, Christine received an invitation on behalf of all four of us "Americans" to enjoy a Saturday afternoon "get-away" at the Lagos Yatch Club. Since none of us are really the "yatch club" type, we were a little reluctant to go but, when faced with the alternative of doing nothing all day at the apartment, we half-heartedly called a cab. Little did we know, "Lagos Yatch Club" is actually code for "private villa on an island in the Lagos Lagoon" ....

We showed up at the Yatch Club and looked around with disappointment; hardly any one was around and, those who were around didn't seem that engaged in anything. On the plus side, there was a bar and, with a bar, there is always the potential to drink some excitement into any given situation. Our host arrived in a white polo shirt, white shorts and boat shoes and said "Lets go for a ride on my boat." We got into his boat - a speedboat, mind you - and prepared ourselves for a short jaunt around the bay. Hence my surprise when the boat sped past the bay, past the cargo ships, and into the lagoon where small fishing villages and palm trees took turns hugging the water. I thought maybe we were being taken on a silent tour of Lagos water ways...

Lagos Island from the water

A speed boat rushes past a fishing village

A random pier in the middle of nowhere

In true African style, a full family can fit on an ATV

A kind little cooler courier - working on the weekends to pay his school
fees. 

And then the boat stopped, at a random pier in the middle of no where. We got off the boat and followed the children down a well-worn dirt path through the palm trees. I asked them where we were going and they pointed into the trees - and, seeing nothing but trees, I assumed we were visiting a bar-b-que pit for a hidden beach picnic. And then, just like that, the trees parted and there was a row of private, thatched beach villas.

Beyond the pool, the Atlantic Ocean

A small piece of thatched paradise

Children playing near an abandoned fishing boat
(If you're wondering what those clear-ish-white spots are on the ground...
those would be plastic bottles that have washed up on the beach)

Looking over fences to the shipwreck in the distance

At the kind expense of our host, we enjoyed a traditional Nigerian lunch of jolof rice and snails accompanied by several bottles of French Champagne while we listened to some R&B rap music. It was such a wonderful change from Lagos: peaceful and quiet, no traffic, fresh, cool air....a pool.... and we felt totally relaxed.

Then, half an hour later, the party arrived on an ATV from a neighboring villa. ... And that's when we got to see another side of Nigerian culture: how marriages really work among the too-rich-and-almost-famous.

Lucky for us, we had to be home before sundown.

Fishing with the cargo ships at sun set

Another sinking ship... I see a trend

Cargo ships in the setting sun

A souvenir from the occasion... (click here) 

Political Posters - With a Side of Information

It's election season in Nigeria and, as political candidates rush to assure voters of their promise and potential, I've enjoyed taking pictures of the many campaign posters and billboards all around town. However, in order to understand the pictures I've been taking, I've also been asking questions, listening to informal political discussions, and doing my own minor research on the current Nigerian political race. Here's what I've found so far:

1. Babatunde Raji Fashola - also known as "BRF" - is the current Governor of Lagos State and is running for re-election. Unlike a lot of the politicians in Nigeria, Fashola is beloved by the people as he has actually made good on many of the promises from his first campaign. He's actively working to improve the local transportation networks through both extensive road repairs and the construction of a new light rail system. He is also credited with launching a new line of big red (and blue) buses with specially dedicated lanes and, even though these are official called "Lagbus"es, everyone I've talked to calls them the "BRF Buses." Not surprisingly, Fashola uses the sides of these buses as prime real estate for his re election campaign posters.

Fun Fact: the Nigerian name "Babatunde" means "his father has died" and is given to children whose father dies while his mother is still pregnant. Looking around at the campaign posters, I've actually been quite surprised at just how many "Babatunde"s are in politics.

A BRF Bus with a BRF Poster

When we first arrived in Lagos, walls looked like this....

2. Because many Nigerians don't own a TV, the majority of political campaigning seems to be done by print either in the newspaper or through billboards and posters. Funnily enough, the politicians alternate between posters where they're pictured in "traditional" dress and posters where they appear in a western-style suit and tie. Although it isn't zoomed in, the picture at the left is a pretty good representation of this need to appear as both modern (read: westernized) and traditional (read: Nigerian).
  



2 (b). There doesn't really seem to be a strategy to the way in which posters are pasted around town other than sheer volume. The picture below shows no less than 14 identical posters of Governor Fashola side-by-side. I'm not entirely sure if this is a proven strategy... perhaps it appeals to the sub-conscious.



.... Now, days before the election, walls in Lagos look like this.




Endless Fashola... under an overpass

3.   Nigeria is a relatively new democracy and this upcoming election will be third election held since the last military regime was over thrown in 1999. The current "ruling party" (for want of a better term) is the PDP (People's Democratic Party) which is represented by the symbol of a red, green, and white umbrella. (Yes, an umbrella. ... Like donkeys and elephants are really any better). According to some of the Nigerians I've spoken to, the PDP rigged the last election and, as such, many are suspicious they'll do the same again. It is worth noting that the current President Goodluck Jonathan belongs to the PDP although he wasn't exactly elected as he became President when the former, elected President Umaru Yar'adua died last year.

The other main political party in Nigeria is the ACN (Action Congress of Nigeria) and their symbol is a hand holding onto a traditional Nigerian broom (which, to most Americans, probably looks like a pile of twigs) - once you know what it is, its not hard to imagine that this symbolizes "cleaning up" the Nigerian political system.


An ACN banner flying from an electricity pole



Govenor Fashola is an ACN candidate and is, by far, the most prominent (and popular) person on the party's ticket. It is my sense (although I'm not entirely sure) that many of the other ACN candidates will be riding on Fashola's popularity to try and secure a majority in the National Assembly. The ACN candidate for President - Mr. Nuhu Ribadu - is the former govenor of Sokoto State (near the national capital - Abuja) and is well-known for his participation in anti-corruption efforts in Nigeria. Although he seems to be well-supported by many of Nigeria's youth (especially the one's with some education behind them), I don't think he has enough wide-spread popularity to out-shine Goodluck Jonathan. In fact, for all the whispers about his political party, Goodluck seems like a tough man to beat.

Although there are many political parties in Nigeria, the PDP and ACN seem to take up the majority of political discourse with one exception: Muhammadu Buhari.

4. Running on the CPC (Conscious People's Congress) party ticket, Muhammadu Buhari wants to be President of Nigeria. For those of you who are perhaps not very well-versed in Nigerian history, allow me to explain why this is strange. Buhari has been a politics a long time - under the oppresive military regime of Obasanjo in the mid 1970's he was a "minister," after a coup he became head of the armed forces and then, after yet another coup, he became President ("Head of State") during his very own oppressive, corrupt military regime in the mid 1980's. As if Nigerians could forget all of this and be persuaded to elect him democratically, Buhari ran for President in 2003. However, his platform was that of "extreme, radical Islam" and, if elected, he promised to ensure that Nigeria became an official "Arab State." As you can imagine, in a country where 50% of the population is not Muslim, this didn't go over well and, thankfully, he was not elected.

This time around, Buhari is taking a slightly more balanced approach. Although he is still clinging strongly to his Islamic ideals, he has picked a running mate - Tunde Bukare- who is Christian. Bravo. The hiccup comes, however, when it is discovered that Bukare is himself an extremely controversial Pentecostal minister who often appears on television and says strange things. And, of course, I suppose we shouldn't consider it odd that, although Bukare is part of a presidential race in Nigeria, he lives in a multi-million dollar estate in Atlanta, Georgia.



Maybe I'm imagining things, but I think Buhari actually
looks as crazy as he sounds.



Buhari Poster on a rusted shack in Agege

5. In order to avoid the unrest and violence that so often seems to mar elections on this side of the world, there is a fairly strict law in effect that bans the use or operation of any transportation systems between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm on election days. Luckily, Nigerians should be registered to vote at a polling station within walking distance of their homes so this (hopefully) won't effect voter turnout. It will, however, effect our ability to leave our apartment and for the next 2 Saturdays - April 2nd (National Assembly Elections) and April 9th (Presidential Elections) - we will sadly be trapped in our little apartment in the middle of the Nigerian semi-ghetto. Still, it has been interesting to see democracy in action in a country where democracy is still a fairly new idea.

I have been told by multiple Nigerians that I have nothing to worry about and that elections will come and go without violence. However, these same Nigerians have also told me that its "probably better to stay inside all weekend just to be safe." Although I am not personally worried about my safety, I am worried about my mental sanity if I have to spend 2 entire weekends trapped inside the four walls of an apartment with limited electricity, no kerosene (with which to cook), and a small selection of frustrated Americans.

Lets hope, for everyone's sake, that the election passes without incident, that Nigerians are given a free and fair election, and that I'll get to leave the apartment at least once this weekend.

Number 4

Yesterday, the "girls"and I decided to take the afternoon and do something totally unrelated to Nigeria or Small Business Development (in emerging markets) and so we went to the large mall / cineplex in Victoria Island - the posh side of Lagos - and, for a grand total of $5.00, took in a c-rated American movie

Of course, I'll be one of the first to admit that there have been few good movies out in theatres lately but this particular gem - "I Am Number 4" - was especially feeble. Just in case any of you are still keen on seeing it, I'll spare you the details. However, I will say that this "cinematic masterpiece" is about a handsome American teenager who is really an alien warrior sent from another planet to save the earth from destruction by an especially ugly group of other aliens called "Morgs." Along the way, he saves a nerd from a school bully and falls in-love with an "artsy" girl who is really just another cheerleader. And, of course, he saves the world without disturbing his chiseled, out-of-a-catalogue good looks.

Um... yeah. Like I said, c-rated. At best.

But, despite the poor quality of the story-line and the laughable acting, seeing "I Am Number 4" certainly provided an important and necessary distraction from the small (and sometimes large) frustrations of day-to-day life in a country and culture that aren't ours.

One line from the movie's exceptionally cheesy dialogue that I not-so-secretly liked was as follows:

"A place is only as good as the people you know in it."

And I found it to be very fitting. Lagos, for all its pollution and traffic and corruption really isn't as bad as people make it out to be... and I believe this to be true because at the heart of this city, there are still a few decent people who have treated me well and who will not be forgotten.

In any case, something as simple as seeing a movie, even a bad movie, was enough to refresh our spirits and brace us for the week ahead which will, somewhat-unfortunately, include elections. Here's hoping the Nigerian people are allowed fair and equal opportunity to participate in their country's elections ... here's hoping that this alone will be enough to avoid violence in the days to come.

Wish us luck.

Can You Imagine?

Another strange Nigerian conversational "ism" : "Can you imagine?"

For example:
We're stuck in traffic and another crazy mini-bus driver cuts us off. (This is daily occurance). At this point a Nigerian in the car will undoubtedly gesture to the offending mini-bus and say:
"Can you imagine?"
And I feel like saying "Yes, yes I can imagine...because it just happened....just like it does every single day."
But instead I say nothing.

Another example:
We're at work for 5 hours and the power is off, thus preventing everyone from doing their jobs while simultansously encouraging everyone to sit around and talk about how the lights are all off. As I'm sitting reading a book, waiting for the power to come back on, a Nigerian sits down next to me and says:
"Sorry, the power is off"
And I say "Its ok. That's how it is."
To which the Nigerian replies "Can you imagine?" (in reference to the lights being off)
And I want to say "Uh... yes. I can, in fact, imagine because this happens every single day in Lagos."
But instead I say nothing.

............................................


And, like Forest Gump, "that's just about all I gots to say about that."

A Sea of Yellow

This post is dedicated to my father who is always interested in mechanical things and, thus, always asking me about how I'm "getting around." For the rest of you, discussing the many modes of transportation in Lagos may not seem that interesting at first but, trust me, this is not your average Western time-tables-and-organized-bus-stops kind of a situation.

During the week, I am ferried from home to my part-time "job" or the office in a Mercedes Benz. It sounds fancy, I know, but consider first that this particular vehicle, circa 1980-something, is falling apart due to the general abuses of Nigerian roads and drivers. As I have mentioned before, the A/C unit is broken and thus, when driving about in 90 degree + heat, we use "Nigerian A/C" which involves rolling all the windows down for a chance at a partially-fresh-mostly-polluted gust of warm air coming into the car. Beyond this, which some might consider little more than a personal comfort issue, the car seems to intensely dislike running at 5- 10 mph consistently for more than an hour and so, during the inevitable traffic jams either to or from work, it stalls out at least a handful of times and has to be switched off and restarted a few times before the engine catches and we can move forward again. Finally, our car is a rather hideous shade of maroon-ish purple and I am convinced that this in combination with the generally poor driving practices of most mainland- Nigerians makes us a target. We've be scraped and bumped by several other cars and motorcycles and, earlier this week, a passing motorcycle knocked the driver's side mirror clean off the side of the car without so much as an '"I'm sorry, my bad" courtesy wave.

On the weekends, this de-luxe vehicle is "off-limits" and so it is up to us to suffer through calling an air-conditioned cab with a polite driver who will take us wherever we want to go. Of course, unlike riding in the maroon Mercedes, we actually have to pay for the cab but, for roughly $7 per person, the hour and 1/2 ride to Victoria Island (and every luxury we could think of) is pretty darn affordable. Of course... in Lagos there are different kinds of cabs. We prefer the slightly-more-expensive-yet-considerably-more-comfortable-and-safe Red Cabs which are regulated by the government and thus less likely to have drivers who drive like morons (a surprisingly common occurrence in Lagos in general) or kidnap us.

The other alternative in the cab world are the Yellow Cabs. Here again there are subtle yet important differences - Yellow Cabs with a multi-colored stripe over the top of their hood and roof tend to be better maintained than their stripe-less counterparts and, even though they're cheaper than the Red Cabs,  they're still somewhat safer than the "other" Yellow Cabs. The other Yellow Cabs are about on par with if not worse than our maroon Mercedes and all seem to be in various stages of falling apart and, indeed, many of them frequently seem to lose parts or break down in the middle of traffic. Coupled with the frightening fact that many of these "other" Yellow Cab drivers are aggressive in both their driving and their treatment of their passengers, I try to avoid taking these at all costs.

Although I certainly prefer the "car" variety of transportation, most Nigerians operate on a tighter budget and are therefore left with other, more cost effective modes of transportation.

The first and what I assume most luxurious way to travel around Lagos on a budget is on one of the Big Red/ Blue Buses which are, again, government regulated an thus fairly well maintained. They even have their own special lane on the highway so that, during busy traffic times (any time between 5 am and midnight), they can move along at a reasonable pace. Of course, many other people try to take advantage of these special lanes (especially on the bridges between the mainland and the Island) and so sometimes this isn't always as effective as it could be. In fact, in order to attempt to put an end to this lane stealing, the government has installed small lane walls on some sections of the freeway.




A Blue Bus utilizing its special, walled lane



After the big blue and red buses, the next cheapest transport option is, most likely, the small yellow mini-buses which we used to call "bush taxis" in Niger. Although the ones here in Nigeria are, for the most part, in slightly better condition than the ones North of the border, they are driven so aggressively that one might assume that the drivers either have a death wish or believe themselves to be invincible. Although clearly an unsafe choice for someone unaccustomed to this style of driving, these mini-buses are a fairly popular transportation option with Nigerians and often times the road is taken up by an agitated herd of these mini buses jostling with a few yellow taxis for control.

A single yellow mini-bus in a long line of other yellow mini buses

Of course, of those people wishing to travel in a more individualized manner, there are plenty of tuk-tuks to be found. Nigerians call these "Napep"s and they have yellow ones - which can legally seat up to three (plus the driver), or green ones - which can legally seat up to four (plus the driver). As the yellow ones clearly outnumber the green ones, it is not altogether un-common to see a poor little tuk-tuk filled to the brim with people, produce, and animals (yes, I once saw someone bring a live chicken into one of these tiny little machines). Due to issues of power (and, I think, general comfort) it is my understanding that the Nigerian tuk-tuk is best suited to short distances when you have more friends with you than a motorcycle can reasonably accommodate.

A Nigerian tuk-tuk parked by an open Nigerian sewer

And, of course, one cannot talk about transportation in Nigeria without mentioning motorcycles. In fact, someone told me the other day that motorcycles out number cars... and to drive the streets of Lagos, this doesn't surprise me at all. In Niger, we called them "Kabo- Kabos," in Nigeria they're called "Okadas" and, in any language, motorcycle taxis should be known as an absolutely insane way to travel anywhere. They constantly cut through traffic, between cars, between oil tankers, between each other and each Okada driver seems more intent than the rest on getting himself to his destination in the fastest possible time regardless of whether or not his passenger arrives alive. In fact, of the multiple accidents I've seen since being here, well over half have involved an Okada. One of my Nigerian co-workers told me that she would never ride an Okada herself unless she was certain she was about to miss a flight or a very important meeting. She claims their erratic driving is the result of gasoline as, she claims, groups of Okada drivers will do "shots of petrol" to prove their manliness to one another. She says that, if I absolutely MUST take an Okada, then I should choose one driven by an old man reasoning that an old man is likely to have children and, since he will likely want to see these children grow up, he is less likely to drive like a man high on gasoline. Although it may sound like quite a feat to find one such man, okada drivers tend to hang out in clusters on street corners or in high-traffic areas and in each group of young-and-crazy okada drivers, there is always at least one older man sitting slightly to the side and waiting patiently for his next sensible, safety conscious passenger to come along.

A group of okada bikes resting between death rides.

Of course, the Nigerian government realizes that okadas, although cheap and therefore popular, are notoriously unsafe and, in order to try and fix their "machine of death" image, they have passed laws requiring both okada drivers and passengers to wear helmets for the entire okada journey. However, this law is only loosely followed in most cases. Some people choose not to fasten the helmet chin strap fear it to be dirty (it probably is), some people (especially women) don't want it to mess up their hair and so, rather than wear it on their heads, they hold it over their hair like a helmet-shaped umbrella, and, of course, some people don't wear the helmet at all. This is perhaps a great idea of a well-intentioned law failing to accomplish anything at all. .... well, except for maybe the sale of helmets.



Safety first! Always wear a helmet when driving
 against the flow of rush hour traffic




Yes, in the highly likely event of a crash, the back of the bike will be well
protected. Sadly, we can't say the same for your skull.

 Aside from the wide range of street-based transportation options, Lagos also offers railway travel. Unfortunately, with only one line (straight from the outermost suburbs in the North to the heart of the city in the South), traveling by train isn't taken quite as seriously here as it is elsewhere in the world. Still, prices are affordable (or so I've heard) and, if you're lucky enough to live close to (or, in our case, right next to) the rail line, a cool ride on the top of a gently chugging locomotive beats the heck out of sitting in a 2 hour Lagos traffic jam.



Although not to the same scale, Nigerians seem to enjoy
train travel in the Indian Style.

 In talking about transportation in Lagos... in fact, when discussing anything to do with Lagos at all...one cannot give enough emphasis to how absolutely outrageous traffic is here. And, as the population is expected to grow exponentially in the coming years, it is only going to get worse. However, I have to give credit where credit is due: the current governor of Lagos, Babtunde Raji Fashola has been busy as work designing and trying to put into effect an improved transportation system which includes expending the current 4-lane highway to a 10-lane highway as well as the construction of several new above-ground rail lines - the first of which seem to be constructed to run East-West... which is a start. I admire the intentions behind the project and think that, if carried off successfully, it will make a world of difference in how the people of Lagos do business and structure their lives. Of course, there's the minor issue of finding the space in which to construct something as large as a 10-lane highway .... but never mind.

In the mean time, while Lagosians are waiting to be saved from their traffic nightmare, visitors and residents can expect to be greeted by okadas, nepeps, minibuses, taxis and buses... all merging together in a Nigerian sea of yellow, honking smog.



A Lagos side street



"Normal Environmental Challenges"

On Monday we drove all the way out of Lagos State to visit Fati Boluwaji, a small business owner who owns a small fish farm in Ogun State.



Fati Boluwaji - Fish Farmer extraordinaire -
Owner of "Agric Business"


On our way to see Fati and his fish farm, we were stopped by Ogun State "Officials." These men, with little more to identify them as "officials" beyond their neon orange vests and their sheer audacity, informed us that we were not displaying the correct tax sticker and, as such, we would have to pay them the "tax sticker fine" which was, if you can believe it, $114. By now, this situation is starting to become all too familiar to me. For half an hour, we (the 2 Americans) sat parked in a hot car while our 2 Nigerian colleagues argued with the "officials" about how, as a non-profit organization, they are not required to pay taxes least of all "taxes" that weren't for their state of residence and, most especially, "taxes" that are really bribes. Finally, my supervisor called Fati to come down to where we were being held up to explain to the "officials" that we were only there to visit him as "business consultants" who would only be passing through for, at most, an hour and that, as such, requiring us to pay such "taxes" would be a detriment to his business. Finally, they were convinced that we would not pay the bribe and they let us go.

By the way, this makes occasion number 6 that I have been harassed by police/ '" officials" since being in Nigeria for a little over 6 weeks.

After our encounter with more of Nigeria's "finest," we followed Fati to his small fish farm where he kindly showed us where and how he raised catfish.




Catfish tanks - Agric Business, Ogun State, Nigeria

  During our tour of his small operation, Fati explained that the ph content of the water was essential to the success of a fish farm and, with a ph level of .7, this location was deemed "unacceptable" for the fingerlings (baby fish) and had instead been selected for his "older" fish. The fish are raised until they are about 4 months old and then they are sold 100 kgs (bulk-buying Nigeria style) at a time to local buyers.

Fati also told us that one of the problems he had faced in fish farming was that the foreign (American) brand fish food had inconsistent quality - it promised 70% protein and yet, when he had it analyzed, it only contained 50% protein. Such a relatively small difference in protein levels can have an extremely high impact in fish size and weight and, therefore, selling price. To combat this problem, Fati decided to make his own fish food so that he can control both the type and the quality of its ingredients.



Foreign fish food




Home-made fish food


As the pictures above show, the foreign and homemade fish food look remarkably similar and yet, Fati claims to have had great success with his own brand. In fact, he has found that its actually cheaper for him to manufacture his own fish food than it was to purchase the other, foregin brand. Fati now makes a surplus of his own fish food which he than packages in 15 kg bags and sells to other fish farmers for a profit of roughly $7.50 per bag.

Fati also explained that, although business selling his catfish had been good, most buyers were purchasing his fish in order to smoke them and sell them, in turn, to the street vendors who sit in the hot sun and sell them as they are pictured below.


Catfish sold on the streets of Lagos


Seeing this process as both unhealthy and potentially profitable, Fati has decided to begin smoking his own catfish on-site which he then intends to package in hygienic bags and sell to smaller vendors thereby increasing his potential customer base. Sadly, one of the obstacles he faces is an in-consistent electricity supply. Although a generator will suffice for the time-being, Fati knows that his product would be better if only the power would stay on.

As a very enterprising business man, Fati has also been considering other ways in which to diversify his business further. He explained to us that he's been sampling his target market and has discovered that many young, newlywed women are not acquainted with the traditional way of using catfish in their cooking - most especially in pepper soup. As such, he feels as though he's missing out on a growing slice of his target market. In order to address this issue, Fati is experimenting with a way in which to provide these customers with "instant catfish pepper soup" whereby his less-knowledgeable clients can simply purchase a can of his catfish, add water, and have themselves a delicious catfish pepper soup meal. Sounds tasty, doesn't it?

In our discussions about Fati's fish farm we also asked him about the challenges he faced as a small business owner and, like almost all of the other entrepreneurs and small business owners we have spoken to thus far he listed access to financing as his primary challenge. According to Fati "[In Nigeria] you have to do everything by yourself" as there is no one to support you. When we pressed him further he talked about a time when a particular bank promised to be his business partner and lend him the capital he needed to launch his small business. However, as time went on, the bank began to have "issues"- not with his project but within the system - and ultimately could not find the money within their institution to lend to him. That's right: a bank ran out of money.

Although this was certainly difficult to hear, I was more interested in what Fati said afterwards:

"Other than that [financing issues] all my issues are normal environmental challenges."

"What do you mean by "normal environmental challenges?" - I asked

"Oh, you know" - he said "Corrupt police. Like the ones you saw today. Sometimes they stop my truck drivers and, when the live catfish are inside the truck, they die in the heat."

I felt sorely tempted to tell him that "corrupt police" don't qualify as "normal environmental challenges."

But then it occurred to me that this is Nigeria... Corruption is considered inevitable and, thus, part of the natural environment.

A Passage to Nigeria

"Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and the talk that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their existence." - E.M. Forster in "A Passage to India"

Yesterday at work, the power went out .... for the entire day... and, although my "job" of traveling out to see entrepreneurs in the field doesn't really depend on the electricity in the office, my supervisor was hesitant to leave for whatever reason and, thus, we didn't leave for our one and only visit until 1:00pm. As you can imagine, this gave me quite a bit of free time which I used to catch up on my reading.

I've done quite a lot of reading since I've been here as I seem to have quite a lot of time on my hands due to power outages, late drivers, and a simple lack of anything else to do, really. Of course, intelligent human being that I am, I unpacked several of the books I had originally planned to bring with me as my suitcase was overweight and I idealistically thought "Well, I'm sure my time in Nigeria won't be much like Peace Corps...  I'm sure I won't have anytime to read." After I burned through both the books I brought and one of the books that someone else brought in the first week and a half, I was left with what was on the bookshelf in our humble little home which, I'm sad to say, are all preachy business books written by brilliant business men who are all, as it turns out, horrible writers (yes, Sir Richard Branson, you may be a world-class adventurer and millionaire but you can not - and should not - write a book to save your life).  Luckily, I was saved when I found the place where I work has a small library with both fiction and non-fiction books for sale. True, the selection is less-than-fabulous with nothing worth reading more recently published than the 1980's but, at less than $1 a book, I won't be complaining.

 Over the weekend I finished "Pride and Prejudice" and yesterday I finished "Robinson Crusoe" (which, I must say, is not quite as bad a book as everyone makes it out to be) within the first 2 hours of work. I was at first sad by the thought that there was nothing left for me to read but Danielle Steale novels until, lo and behold, I found "A Passage to India" hiding out of order in the non-fiction section.

For those of you who are unacquainted with older literature, "A Passage to India" was written by E.M. Forster and first published in 1924 - yes, I told you the selection wasn't exactly recent. Although certainly written long before my time and about a country I've never been to, I have found the story within "A Passage to India" to very easy to relate to.

The story centers around a young English woman who travels to India with the intent of deciding whether or not she should marry an Englishman who has been appointed judge of a small town in a province which, I assume, would be part of present-day Pakistan. Although the side-bar about marriage certainly doesn't apply to me, the young woman, Adela, is desperate to "see the real India" outside of the colonial gatherings and yet, whenever she attempts to do so, she is met with scorn by her colonial colleagues - who call her naive and "disrespectful of her own race"- and resistance by the Indian "natives" - who distrust her motives and assume she's just like the other English, un-interested and insincere.  I find this extremely easy to relate to.

My interest in Africa has certainly set me apart from the majority of Americans and I find that many cannot understand or relate to my desire - my need - to return to the continent time and time again. Many have called me naive and I accept this somewhat willingly because I believe that what most mistake for "naive" is actually "optimism" without which, Africa - and myself-  would be without hope. However, it is harder for me to take the criticism that I am "disrespectful of my own race" or, as people generally say in this day an age "turning my back on the people in America that need help." Of course, it bothers me that people in my own country struggle to survive and that many are without food, shelter, and hope even as I write this. One day I hope to be able to help them in some small way but right now I am being called elsewhere. And, as long as my heart is in Africa, I see no good reason why the rest of me should not follow.

Of course, although it is difficult for me to take criticism from Americans, it is harder still to feel distrusted or even un-accepted or misunderstood by the very people that I'm trying to accept and understand. Being in Nigeria has certainly been an odd experience for me and, unlike any other time in my life, no matter how much I try to understand the language, culture, and business environment, I seem to be falling short. I feel as though I vaguely comprehend little pieces here and there but cannot see the forest for the trees.

 Although there have been a great many kind, understanding Nigerians who have gone out of their way to make us feel welcome, few have taken the time to explain important parts of their culture and customs. In fact, many of the wealthier Nigerians I have encountered seem tempted to abandon their own culture altogether or merge it with a strange version of pseudo-American culture. This is very confusing for an outsider and I cannot decide if this is being done for my benefit - because they assume that I prefer all things American - or because they are  truly attempting to become more western - or, sadder still, that they do not trust me enough to tell me about the way things really are.

In any case, I certainly feel as Adela in "A Passage to India" in that I'm desperate to see the "real Nigeria" and yet, for all my efforts, I am failing to find (or perhaps see) it. Of course, as E.M. Forster tries to point out, Adela's insistence on "seeing the real India" seems, in some ways, to be a slight towards what she's been shown - as if she doesn't believe that the "real India" could be modern. I certainly don't mean to imply that Nigeria could not be modern or that Nigerians could not possess or be in desire of possessing modern things but, without someone to explain the context to me in its entirety, I struggle to believe that Nigerians are without history and a unique culture that is free from these western influences.

Perhaps, like so many things, the Nigerian culture has evolved so much over time that even Nigerians themselves even know what their culture is anymore and so when others ask them to define it, they are unable to do so.... or, in a more likely scenario, perhaps its right in front of me and I haven't known that I've been staring at it the whole time... Maybe, I've been too caught up in the day-to-day task of surviving in Nigeria and thus I have not been alert enough to understand something as subtle (or important) as culture.

"Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend"-    "A Passage to India"

R-E-S-P-E-C... oh forget it

For those of you who don't know, my living accomodations in Nigeria are far from lux and, simultaneously, far from "bush" (a.k.a "Peace Corps -style"). In fact, its probably somewhere in the gray-area in between.

 I share a 3- bedroom apartment in Agege, (a slightly less developed neighborhood on the outskirts of Lagos) with 2 American women who came to Nigeria with my program, 1 Togolese-American man who is also here with the "Frontier Market Scouts" Program, and 2 Nigerian men who are the in-country representatives of the company that brought us over here. Just in case you've lost count, plus me, thats a grand total of 6 roommates. In this 3- bedroom apartment, there are 4 beds. I'll leave you to do the math.

The apartment itself is half of the top floor of a solid, concrete structure within a walled, gated compound which is, in turn, situated inside of a larger GRA (Government Reserved Area) "estate" which is also walled and gated. There is no paint on the external walls which gives off a less-than-friendly although by no means "un-livable" impression. The other house within our individual compound is under construction which means that there are always miscellanous workers coming and going and hammering and constructing and scratching themselves and going to the bathroom in the "yard" at all times of the day and some of the night. Not that I'm necessarily complaining, mind you. It is far too hot to be venturing outside the apartment walls most of the time anyway. Did I mention we also live within a stone's throw of train tracks? Did I mention that the train runs every 20 minutes or so from 5am to 10pm every single day? - Of course, anyone who has called me since I've been here knows this. Again, I'm not necessarily complaining... After the first week, I learned to sleep through it or simply plan my sleeping time around it.

 Thanks in part to the faulty electricity supply of the Nigerian Power Company NEPA and the subsequent burden of having to pay for and fetch a daily supply of deisel to operate a small generator, we usually have power between 6 or 7 pm and some time around midnight when the generator runs out of fuel and we are left to sweat the night away. Although I would personally love to just approach this problem "Peace Corps Style" and set up my mosquito net outside for a cool-ish night under the starts, the generators from  the neighboring compounds make it sound as though Top-Gun jets are hovering near-by. Hind-sight is a miraculous thing because at around 12:15am when I'm am wide-awake and sweating in our hot-box house, I find myself longing for the cool Niger air...and the sound of squeeky children and braying donkies.

For the most part we have running water in our apartment although occassionally, for whatever reason, the taps fail to produce fluid. Most recentlty, we have found we have running water in every room but the kitchen. There seems to be no answer as to why this is and, further more, no one has been called in to make repairs. I will admit, however, that it is a nice change to not have to fetch water from a well twice a day. Meals are cooked over a single-burner, open-flame propane stove which, although I don't mind, is certainly a step below Peace Corps. In Niger, I may not have had electricity but at least my propane tank was hooked up to a 2-range stove-top. As for refridgeration, well, there is none so whatever isn't eaten immediately must be thrown away otherwise it becomes food for Franklin (which is what I decided to name the large black rat that has taken up residence in our kitchen).

Of course, in such living conditions, with Nigerians, Togolese, and Americans together in such tight and perhaps less-than-ideal quarters, cultural misunderstanding and conflicts are bound to arise... especially given that we all not only live together, we work together. AND, adding to the tension, the two Nigerians fancy themsleves as the "boss men"- despite the fact that the Frontier Market Scouts program has us clearly listed as "collaborators and consultants" not "pee-ons and subordinates."

I have been quiet on this matter until now prefering to stick to neutral topics so as not to disrespect, offend or upset anyone but, after a rather unfortunate confrontation last night, I have found that all respect seems to have gone out the window and, as such, I feel as though I am free to describe my surroundings and give voice to my feelings.

Although the background on this whole "respect" issue is certainly lengthy, I will summarize by saying 2 things:

1. While it is true that "respect"  is defined differently from culture to culture, it is also true that, based on body language, tone, and the comparative effect of how other people in that same culture treat you, there is an obvious difference between "cultural differences" and "disrespect."
2. Give respect, get respect and, in the same sense, respect is earned, not given. If your culture expects respect to simply be given by virtue of your gender alone while also allowing you to treat others as lesser human beings by virtue of their gender alone, you should articulate this to foreigners sharing your living space otherwise expect them to operate under the above mentioned principle.

The following scene is an excerpt which I have copy-and-pasted from an email I sent to back to my graduate institution. For the sake of privacy and my own safety, I have done some selective editing to remove names. I hope that, even without a deeper understanding of the history of conflict within our household, it will strike a chord with you as well:

"It is clear, after several weeks of being in-country, that despite being educated individuals who are willing to work hard and help whenever and where ever possible, we are considered little more than window dressing and are therefore unworthy of respect. When we make suggestions, we are ignored. When we ask questions, we get no response or, in some cases, are yelled at in a most unprofessional manner. When we voice our concerns, we are accused of being "impatient", "rude" and "culturally ignorant." When we ask for help, we are left to our own devices. Still, there continues to be this claim that they view us as "sisters" and "respect us like family." - if this is the way in which they "respect" members of their own family, I am shocked and, quite frankly, horrified on behalf of their families. In a previous email I listed examples of why I think this lack of respect is not merely a cultural disconnect. Allow me to add one more, recent example of such blatant disrespect:

Last night, person X stormed into the living room and immediately began rushing us to the dining room table saying that we needed to have a meeting immediately. It is worth noting that he did not ask us if we were busy or if we had time - he told us we were meeting immediately. Once we were all seated at the table, he said he wished to discuss 3 issues:
1. our patience with him as he adapts to our "criticisms" 2. issues of cultural understanding and
"appropriateness" and 3. issues of respect.
The first issue was of no real note... The second and third issues, however, blended together and stemmed from a small incident that had occurred earlier in the afternoon.

When preparing to leave the office earlier in the day, person A had come to me and asked for the key to the office. I simply asked "why" in a polite and, what I intended to be, nonthreatening and non-confrontational manner. The reason I asked this simple question is because I was in possession of the only existing key to the office and, as there had been a previous accusation of my losing a previous key, I wanted to be sure that I was not going to be further accused. Furthermore, as we all live and work together, I was wondering what the reasoning might be behind my handing over the key to person A. In any case, I still do not consider it an unreasonable question. He said "It doesn't matter. Just give it to me." To which I said "Yes, but first I would like to know why." This back-and-forth continued for a few minutes before Person A finally said "Because I need to give it to the cleaning lady so she can come in and clean the office before an interview tomorrow morning." It was a simple enough response and, as such, I gave him the key.

Once the meeting had progressed, it reached a fever's pitch regarding the above mentioned incident. Person X some-what-calmly informed me that, in asking "why" person A needed the key, I had disrespected person A in a most terrible way to which I again asked "Why?" because I am a stranger to the culture and did not understand my error. At this person A stood up and began yelling directly at me in a very loud and threatening manner, shaking and pointing his finger at me. When we tried to calm him down he increased the volume of his voice and, when Christine tried telling person X that person A's behavior was extremely disrespectful and unprofessional, person X smiply said "It's his turn to speak. Let him speak"... (notice he said "speak"...yelling is not speaking, it is attacking),
And so, person A continued to yell from a standing position for several minutes. During this display, he never once explained why my behavior had been disrespectful in the cultural context... he merelt accused me over and over again of not showing him the respect he "deserved." At first all his anger was directed solely at me and he accused me of being disrespectful in both the case of questioning his
need of the office key and in suggesting that he should be responsible for taking notes on the next weekly meeting - something else I had not realized was culturally disrespectful as we had all previously taken turns taking notes at other meetings.  However, as his high volume rantings continued, he accused all of us for not "appreciating" the "sacrifices" that he and person X make for us such as riding public transportation home - and, as in the case of yesterday, taking public transportation home in the rain. (Its is also worth noting that we, the Scouts, never once asked person X and person A to take public transportation on our behalf. As I understand it, this decision was reached by members of the company staff as, with 4 scouts, 1 driver, and 2 members of the company, there is sadly not enough room to accommodate everyone in a single, 5-person car. Again, the lack of a second vehicle is not the fault of the Scouts and I find it insulting that anyone would imply that I forced them to suffer through public transport on my behalf. In fact, I would be more than willing to take public transportation myself if I were shown how and told where to go.)

After his rant was over, none of us were allowed the opportunity to respond, least of all me and although, after many more minutes of lecturing from person X, I was finally allowed to apologize to person A for any perceived disrespect, I was cut-off as I was trying to explain that I personally find it disrespectful that person A would not tell me why he needed to key - especially as it was for so insignificant a reason. At this point, I was informed that it "wasn't right" that I thought it disrespectful and although I had apologized, I never received an apology in exchange although I was certainly offended by not only his accusations but the way in which he sought to physically threaten us by standing over us, yelling, and pointing his finger violently. Needless to say, by the end of the meeting, I was extremely upset and remain so even to this point.

All of this is to prove the point that this is not simply an issue of cultural misunderstanding but a lack of respect. Although Nigerians appear to, in general, be a rather verbally expressive people, I have never once been yelled at or, in fact, spoken to in such a manner by anyone else. I believe this is because many other Nigerians recognize that, for people outside the Nigerian culture, this is incredibly rude and disrespectful and that, as guests in their culture, we are allowed a certain degree of compassion, patience and understanding. Clearly, we get none of these things from person A or person X."

Although I keep telling myself this is all part of the learning experience, I am also reminded that this is, unfortunately also a daily experience for me at both home and work. In fact, if it weren't for the support of my fellow Americans (and American-Togolese), I think I might be more tempted to look for a more homeward-bound solution to this situation. 

And, of course, all of this somehow makes me look forward to my time in Togo all the more. I'm sure there will be cultural misunderstandings and I'm sure than, in time, people may even disrespect me there to but, in Togo, at least I'll have been trained to know what "respect" is in their cultural contect. And, more importantly, if everything goes to hell, at least my own house, my own space to disappear to when I just need a break from it all.

Count-down to Togo: 2 1/2 months.

Why?

The last few mornings on my way to work, I've been struck by the following billboard:

As it was taken out of my car window, it may be difficult to read.

At the top of the billboard it says:

''Conversations to Change the Nation''

Below which it asks:

''Why?:
- are we poor?
- is there no electricity?
- are we importing fuel?
- is corruption so pervasive?''

And every time I've seen this billboard I've thought: ''Yes...Why?''

I'm not an expert on Nigeria in any way, shape, or form but, now that I've been hear about 6 weeks, I feel as though I have a vague idea as to why some of these problems exist.

Corruption is so pervasive because, quite frankly, the majority of Nigerians seem to have accepted it as inevitable. This includes both the average citizen and the appointed officials - including police personnel (as I discussed in an earlier post) and so both the givers and the takers accept it as a way of life. It doesn't have to be. Wole is proof that, if you simply don't pay, the opportunity for those in the position to be corrupt is severely diminished.

Nigeria is importing fuel because they have few (if any) facilities in-country with which to process the vast quantities of crude oil coming out of the ground in conflict-ridden regions like the Niger Delta. It is well within the capability of the government to invest in oil processing facilities and yet it seems as though foreign interests dictate that Nigeria's political leaders should continue to out-source what they are perfectly capable of doing themselves. In this case, political will ought to be influenced by the will of the people and yet, as electoral corruption has previously been common in Nigeria, those in political power did not necessary come to be so by legitimate means. Idealistically, I would like to say that, if the Nigerian people decided to no longer stand for it, to demand free and fair elections, and to require that their leaders represent their interests, then things would change. Although great change and sweeping social movements have taken hold in much of the Arab world recently,  I fear it will be far more difficult for Nigerians to assert their demands.

There is no electricity (or, I should say, no reliable electricity) in Nigeria because the demand far exceeds the supply. Unfortunately, the Nigerian government also sells its electricity to neighboring countries such as Niger and Benin and, as such, an already scarce supply of power is further diminished. As such, the majority of Nigerians relay on diesel-operated generators to provide their homes with electricity. In conversation with a Nigerian at work the other day, I was told that, as long as there are generators, there will never be a solution to the electricity problem; the generator manufacturers make too much money and Nigerians are complacent with what they have. Until Nigerians suffer with no power at all, they will lack the motivation to demand changes be made. I think this is all related to a lack of political will although, to his credit, the current President Goodluck Jonathan has said that it is possible for Nigeria to have a fully functioning, reliable system of power by the year 2015. As my colleague pointed out, he said it was possible - he didn't say he would make it happen.

As to the question - ''why are [Nigerians] poor?'' - I fear the answer is more complicated than I am qualified to address. Education seems to be a strong priority for Nigerians and, although the public school system is clearly broken, at least there is a drive for the youth to be educated. In fact, beyond basic education, there are training programs for any manner of task or profession - from accounting to janitorial work- in high abundance all over the country. Furthermore, Nigerians are tremendously enterprising people and it seems as though everyone I meet has a business or an idea with the passion (although perhaps not the initial funding or capital) with which to execute it. With the combination of education and the drive to succeed, it is sad to me that so many Nigerians struggle to survive.

To be truthful, however, there are other issues at play here.

 Nigerians are not renown for their money management skills - as it is a cash-based society, few people have bank accounts and thus, few people are able to save. Furthermore, culturally-significant events such as weddings and births demand that relatives and friends literally shower each other with money and so, if saving exists outside of banks, it is usually forgotten for the sake of maintaining cultural expectations.  And, of course, high value is placed on status symbols such as designer clothes, imported cars, and sprawling houses-come-mansions.

Beyond a lack of savings and a culture that seems to diminish the importance of ''sensible spending,'' the persisting poverty of these hard-working people is the lack of real employment opportunities. In fact, just the other day, we got into a cab driven by a man with an MBA... Still, I feel it is hardly right for me to point the finger at the Nigerian government for failing to provide its own, educated, hard-working citizens with opportunities for decent employment. After all, the American government is also struggling with its own increasingly educated, increasingly under-employed / un-employed population. And, as am sure many would argue, '' it isn't the government's job to provide people with jobs.'' I find this to be true, to some extent. I would, however, argue that although we shouldn't ask the government to just ''give its people jobs,'' it isn't unfair to ask that government to make investments and policy decisions that encourage the growth of new sectors and businesses and programs and projects which would, in turn, give all of us un-and-under employed people a chance to work, to pay back our student loans, to support our families, to improve our position in life, and, more simply, to DO something with our lives. Oh, and, the banks need to be straightened out - it seems absolutely ridiculous that Nigerian banks demand 40% collatoral in order to get a loan to start or grow a small business. As one business owner said ''If I had 40% collatoral, why on earth would I need a loan?!''

Of course, this is all easier said that done. And, one can hardly expect the Nigerian government to overcome its obstacles of unemployment and poverty if we, the ''all-knowing Americans'' struggle to come to terms with it as well.

What impresses me, in all of this, is that Nigerians are bothering to ask ''why?'' - why are there problems. And, one can assume that, once someone asks ''why?'' it isn't a long leap to asking ''what can be done?''

I strongly believe this is the first step to improvement.

The Other Side of the Tracks

Yesterday, we went to visit Detola, a Nigerian entrepreneur and small business owner, who lives in a part of Lagos known as "Oko-Oba." As we got closer to his combination house-workshop-office, it became apparent that he was from a lesser-developed part of town - in American terminology, "the other side of the tracks." Although Oko-Oba is by no means a slum, I think it may qualify as a shanty town or, at the very least, a poorer part of town than our own (slightly) ghetto neighborhood- Agege.

The following is merely an attempt to capture what I saw.



Oko-Oba, Lagos, Nigeria




Fresh produce... displayed over an open sewer




Trash and open sewage trickle down the street




We were told that few people visit this district during the rainy season -
as with much of Lagos, the rain water floods the open sewers and,
 in this neighborhood, the absence of paved roads means that everything is
turned into a muddy, sewage slush.




Clothes line on the railroad tracks



Why did the goat cross the railroad tracks?
To get to the sewage-fed grass on the other side, of course




Trash in the foreground, broken-down trash truck in the background.
I should note that Lagos in general has a trash problem but this particular
instance was especially bad.




Detola - the owner of "Wapa Apparel" - at the sewing machine with his son.




Detola's assistants pause from their work to pose for my (annoying) camera.


The purpose of our visit to Wapa Apparel in Oko-Oba was to follow up on Detola, a FATE Foundation alumnus, and see how his business had been doing since his attendance at one of Fate's "Emerging Entrepreneur" training sessions. Like all of Fate's alumni, Detola had nothing but warm things to relate about the positive influence of the FATE Foundation and the success of their training programs in "opening [his] eyes" to the way business is supposed to be done - especially, in his case, when it came to attracting the "right customer base."

Through Wapa Apparel, Detola targets companies and businesses and he specializes in the design and manufacture of uniforms and "workwares" - ex. oil and gas industry jump suits. His average order size is 500 although he told us that he had set his minimum order size at 50.

Unfortunately, access to financing is a huge obstacle to the growth of his business. In Nigeria, although banks claim to be "SME Friendly" ("Small and Medium Enterprise"), they often have strict, inflexible policies and demand an often outrageous amount of collateral up front before agreeing to lend any amount of money. Furthermore, banks often fail and, when they do, they take their customers' money down with them. In the case of Detola, he invested 30% collateral in one such bank in order to get a loan only to find that the bank failed immediately after telling him he was eligible for financing. He has yet to have his 30% investment returned to him.

 Detola would like to purchase more technologically-advanced, digital cutting equipment so that, instead of cutting out 4 or 5 uniforms at a time, he can accurately and efficiently cut out all 500 at once. Once he can find better financing, Detola has big plans to move Wapa Apparel out of Oko-Oba  and into a "better location" - a better neighborhood with a more constant supply of electricity and with closer proximity to potential clients. As it is now, Detola claims that business has been slower then he would like which he links to the fact that few people can find him so far outside of Lagos and so deep into Oko-Oba - the "other side of the tracks."

Despite many obstacles to his success, Detola remains hopeful that things will change eventually and, when they do, he hopes to partner with American businesses and prove that "Nigerians can produce much better work that the Chinese.''

The Rat in My Kitchen

"The Rat in My Kitchen... 

and Other Things That Make Me Re-Evaluate My Decision to Come Here"

I think this may qualify as another less-than-positive blog post but, at the same time, it also qualifies as a I'm-human-too blog post so perhaps I will be forgiven in the long run.

On Tuesday night, I was sitting on the back steps outside the kitchen having a phone conversation with my mother about taxes (yes, exciting phone fodder) when I felt something brush past my behind/ thigh. "What the...?!" I wondered and then saw what had caressed my side: a large, black rat. Of course, it was running down the stairs, not up them so, although I was certainly disgusted, I thought "Thank goodness for small mercies." After my phone conversation, I hung up the phone and went back inside the apartment, closing the door firmly behind me.

The next afternoon, I went into the kitchen to get a piece of bread to go with my amazing lunch/dinner of cucumbers and tuna fish (a gourmet meal around these parts). I lifted the package of bread and saw a set of large, neat teeth marks and I realized that my phone friend the large black rat had been munching on my bread. The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to cleaning every surface of the house and firmly closeting all food products.

Although the rat is certainly an unwelcome visitor, I shouldn't be surprised that my apartment has a problem with vermin.... The system of "garbage disposal" invented by our Nigerian hosts involves tying up full garbage bags and leaving them outside the kitchen door until the cleaning lady comes on Saturday or Sunday afternoons and takes the many full garbage bags down the road to a massive pile of garbage by the front gate to the estate (sounds fancy, don't be fooled). Clearly, this is an invitation for scavengers to welcome themselves to our home. However, as with so many things in Nigeria, when we suggest ways to improve upon this problem, we are greeted with fierce resistance from our Nigerian hosts who are, perhaps unsurprisingly, male.

In fact, this reminds me of another story:

  The Maggots in My Kitchen.

After a busy week, we, the American visitors, decided to go into the kitchen a make ourselves an American-style meal. However, upon seeing the kitchen counter, I immediately lost my appetite: there were maggots everywhere. As it turns out, our Nigerian hosts had left rotting tomatoes and yams out on the counter to fester over the course of the week. We wondered at first if it had been possible that our hosts, like us, hadn't been into the kitchen for a few days and thus were unaware of the maggot-ridden state of the counter. Then, upon looking around the kitchen at all the dirty pots, pans, and dishes we realized that our hosts had been cooking in the kitchen all week and had simply been too lazy or considerate to clean up after themselves.

Of course, we were fairly upset by this revelation and, as I am not personally a very confrontational person, my 2 American companions decided to inform our Nigerian hosts of the unacceptable state of the kitchen. Given the circumstances, I feel as though they handled it very diplomatically. Unfortunately, I can't say the same of our hosts. When asked to clean the mess, one of our hosts flew into an angry rage and accused us of being impatient and "not understanding of [his] culture."

Until now I was unaware that allowing food areas to become polluted by maggots was a cultural tradition.
Perhaps I was misinformed. Perhaps I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

Tuesday Morning
I'm planning to post a video on this later but, in so many words, on the way to work, our driver got lost, reversed at 55mph down a one-way bridge in rush hour traffic (and almost ran off the edge and hit a motorcycle in the process) ran out of gas (even though we asked him... and then told him... numerous times to pull over and get gas) in the middle of morning rush hour traffic, got lost again, got a flat tire, and then got lost...again... before finally dropping us off at the office. Our total commute time to work: 6 hours. It is from the instance that I first began to realize that "common sense" really isn't that common.

The Black Lung Commute 
Monday thru Wednesday I commute from an apartment in Agege (in the northern section of the city) to a part-time internship in a large office in Ijoya (on the southern, port-facing section of the city). If all goes according to plan, we leave the apartment at 6am in order to arrive at the office at 8:30am. Yes, traffic is THAT bad in Lagos. Furthermore, the "company car" doesn't have a functioning A/C Unit so we have to drive all the way to work with the windows down or risk cooking ourselves alive in the sweltering heat of the car. Now, don't get me wrong: normally, I absolutely love driving with the windows down, the wind in my hair, the gentle smell of the day unfolding in the air etc.... certainly not the case here. In Lagos, there is apparently no environmental regulation as to the amount of thick, black smoke a car, truck, van or bus can belch out of its exhaust and at least 40% of all vehicles on the road take full advantage of this. Driving with the windows down during an approximate 2 1/2 hour commute one way (going home takes at least another 2 1/2 hours)  is approximate to sticking one's head directly into a smoke stack and inhaling deeply. On the above mentioned Tuesday morning when it took 6 hours for us to make it to work, my neck was so black with pollution that it took 5 minutes scrubbing with soap and water to see skin. As I mentioned in a facebook status, if I die here, it will be from inhaling pollution, not from kidnapping.


The above stories are but small glimpses of daily life as we know it here in Lagos. I came here to find out what small business owners face when trying to enter into emerging economies so, yes, I am certainly getting extreme first-hand experience to that end. Admittedly, I have lived in less luxurious living conditions (which included large rats... but not maggots) and, yes, I believe strongly in trying to make the best out of any given experience.

However, the point I'm trying to make is that positive thinking will only get you so far. Sometimes, one needs to admit that bad things are happening and come to terms with the idea that, actually, some (small) experiences are not worth having. So... here I am, admitting that things are not perfect.

Could things be better? - Yes.

Would it be nice if I didn't share my kitchen with rats and maggots? - Definitely.

Did I make the right decision when I chose to come to Lagos, Nigeria? - Perhaps.

But.... do I think it would be the right decision to come home? - Not yet.

Its kind of like a great philosopher once said :

"Everyone has a plan... until they get punched in the face" -Mike Tyson

Sunrise  in Agege - taken on the way to work