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