HELLO, Nigeria
Saturday, November 05, 2016 1 comment
Lagos
What happened when Jamaica Observer Business Editor RICHARD BROWNE accepted an invite to Nigeria became a fascinating discovery and a riveting narrative...
Nigeria
might not be everyone’s first choice for a vacation. But when I got invited by Aminu Ismail, my good friend and former classmate from the Manchester Business School (MBS) in the UK, I jumped at the idea, and can now recommend a similar trip for anyone wanting to experience the greatness of Africa first-hand.
For a quick class in Nigeria 101, what could be better than a visit to three of the country’s main cities – Lagos, Abuja and Kano? Each city gives a very different perspective on Nigeria.
LAGOS
A bustling metropolis of some 21 million people, Lagos is a magnified version of Kingston on steroids... steroids to the max. First of all, there’s the traffic, which just puts traffic jams in Kingston to shame. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, with SUVs and tuk-tuk taxis jostling for space on potholed roads that would have been straining their capacity levels when the city had ‘only’ 10 million people; not to mention other vehicles driving in the opposite direction on one-way streets, or overtaking on the sidewalks, sending pedestrians scampering.
Rush-hour traffic on Constant Spring Road is like a relaxing jaunt compared to the scenario in Lagos.
Then there are the people – a hodgepodge of cosmopolitan chic and traditional garb, with women wearing colourful head wraps, loose-fitting blouses and long skirts caressing their ankles, while others sport western-style outfits that could rival any runway model. As for the men, their attire ranges from suits that might have been tailor-made on Savile Row, to African garb: flowing cotton robes with matching
kufis – short, brimless cylindrical hats that are often embroidered.
Everyone is in a rush to get somewhere – whether to the gas station to get a jerry can of diesel for their generators (a must-have, more anon), work, lunch, or for a relaxing beer somewhere.
As cars are often held up in massive traffic jams, pedestrians can cover longer distances in less time than even the most luxurious chauffeur-driven, air-conditioned sedan.
Yes, chauffeur-driven. Because, unlike Kingston, chauffeurs are relatively commonplace for businesspeople who don’t want to spend two hours trying to get to work in one piece when they could be doing something constructive on their smartphones.
And while power outages are not unheard of in Kingston, they are commonplace in Lagos – with the lights going out for hours each day.
It’s not vital, but it seems that you really should have a degree in electrical engineering if you want to turn the lights on in a Nigerian home. Some people have two separate connections to the public electricity supply, so that if the current goes in one area, they will still get it from the fallback area. But when that source also fails, it’s time to start the alternator, where you will have stored electricity from the mains and can run some, but not all, of your household equipment. When that inevitably goes, you then resort to your generator, which will kick in with a loud whirring noise – something between a jackhammer and a helicopter.
If you think Jamaican power cuts are bad, JPS is like a knight in shining armour compared to the situation in Lagos. And unfortunately for Nigeria, the situation is hardly likely to improve any time soon, as some say there is too much money to be made from selling and running all those generators.
I went for a night out on the town with both Aminu and another good MBS friend, Akin Dawodu, clubbing on Victoria Island – the wealthy area of Lagos which offers bars on the bay, packed clubs blasting the latest music, smaller chill-out lounges, and neighbourhood sports bars.
There is not much sign of poverty in this large, upmarket enclave; however, just as in Kingston, there are touts who will help you find a place to park and offer to watch and even wash your car for you as you party away.
Lagos even has its answer to Kingston’s Lime Cay. You can drive to the marina, where you may see a stage decorated with a huge backdrop of Bob Marley, then jump on a catamaran and head out to sea.
The island is much larger than Lime Cay and has a small community on it, with vendors selling souvenirs you can handle Рfrom carved rhinos to papier-m̢ch̩ replicas of overcrowded Lagos buses, to a solo guitarist in red, green and gold playing (you guessed it) Bob Marley songs. There is even a snake charmer who gets his serpents to dance to his flute, while children watch from a safe distance, ready to run should anything go awry.
The water is really not up to Lime Cay standards, though, and Jamaicans may want to say a quick prayer before daring to put their toes into the polluted brown water – no comparison with Hellshire even on a really bad day.
KANO
But whereas there are some clear similarities between Lagos and Kingston, Kano, that northern city on the edge of the desert, is as different as can be.
The city, of perhaps less than 10 million people (depending on who you talk to) is majority Muslim. On the road to Kano from Kaduna, another Muslim city, the highway is dead straight but pock-marked with massive potholes. Groups of children in African attire walk on the side of the road, and men can be seen neatly standing up and then kneeling and bowing together as they pray to Allah.
The strong influence of Islam can be seen at petrol stations which all have, instead of convenience stores as is common in Jamaica, convenience mosques – so that travellers can quickly pray en route to their destinations.
Kano itself is dry, not because of the climate, but because of the lack of alcohol. As a result, night life isn’t quite up to Lagos or even Kingston standards. But there are some hidden and not-so-hidden nightspots around, where you can enjoy huge bottles of Nigerian beer, such as Star and Gulder.
So don’t go to Kano for the nightlife. But do go for the durbar – which is a massive festival where turbaned horsemen in flowing, colourful robes pay tribute to the Emir. The role is largely ceremonial, but holds a great degree of prestige, as the current Emir stepped down from his role as governor of Nigeria’s central bank to take up the position.
The durbar is astonishing. Thousands of horsemen ride their mounts on special routes around the city – the horses all splendidly decorated in maxed-out saddles, bridles and stirrups, armour, feathers and more, and watched by thousands of onlookers, mainly Kano residents.
This is as far removed as you can get from Kingston’s Carnival, where scantily clad men and women gyrate to the latest soca hits. In Kano, the music is as ancient as the festival itself – some 250 years old – with people playing flutes and beating drums, but in a manner that seems to have nothing in common with Jamaican drums — faster and lighter and with less heartbeat.
While for Jamaica’s Carnival less is definitely more, when it comes to outfits for the durbar, more is more. The poor horsemen – well, not so poor, as many can be seen wearing top-brand sunglasses on their heads and Rolex watches on their wrists – are covered from head to toe in layer upon layer of rich fabrics, in sweltering temperatures. Many even have traditional muslin veils to cover their faces in case of sandstorms.
The end result is a spectacle that outshines our Carnival, and which goes on for days. It is an intergral part of Kano culture, and tourism is not a part of any consideration in its staging, which is probably a good thing, because the danger of being kidnapped or blown up by Boko Haram terrorists is real, and would probably make most sane tourists think twice before venturing to visit this ancient city.
But really, what are the chances that a Jamaican is going to be blown up in Kano? Probably a lot lower than his chances of being shot to death in Kingston. And Boko Haram, which tried to kill the last Emir in a durbar a couple of years ago, now appears to be much more contained, especially in Kano.
Security though, is much higher than in Kingston, in some respects. Before entering a supermarket you may feel like you are entering an airport, as you may be searched for weapons and explosives. Once let through, you are not considered a potential criminal anymore, and — unlike some upmarket stores in Kingston — you won’t have your bags searched to see if you have done any shoplifting.
This is a proud city, with some neighbourhoods that can trace their history to their early origins and that have homes made from mud, which have withstood all the elements for hundreds of years. You can hear the call to prayer from minarets all around the city. The Ayers-like rock in the middle of the city stands out as a main landmark. It is where the original inhabitants discovered iron and learned how to make a living from trade with far-flung empires in the Sahara and beyond.
It is like a blot on the city’s remembered past, that one day in 1903 when four Englishmen on horseback, with a hired army of about 800 African foot soldiers, were able to march through the previously impenetrable city walls and then blow a hole through the iron gates of the Emir’s palace.
The Emir fled, and the British replaced him with an eager relative, happy to be turbaned the new Emir by the conquering invaders – as was a frequent strategy from the British playbook titled
Imperialism 101.
You can visit the spot where the new Emir was turbaned under a tree at the Kano museum – right across from the palace and beside a major mosque.
But despite their superior firepower and technology, the British were surprised to find Kano to be a bustling and expanding civilisation, literate and with its own laws and customs. Just 57 years later, the invaders had gone, and Nigeria was independent. Today Kano appears to be well on the way to forgetting all about this unfortunate episode, and little seems to remain of the British presence. Except of course on supermarket shelves, where almost everything seems to have been imported from a corner shop in London. From the Kellogg’s Fruit & Fibre cornflakes (proudly pronouncing that it costs only 1.59 UK pounds) to that most English of delicacies, Marmite yeast extract – and even its meaty alternative, Bovril.
Sadly, no GraceKennedy products were to be seen anywhere.
But Nigerian tastebuds are similar to ours and may welcome Jamaican flavours. Nigerian food is spicy, like Jamaican cuisine, but makes much more use of tomato-based sauces. Rice is a staple, and Jollof rice, made with tomato sauce, is as popular as rice and peas in Jamaica. Chicken stew – delicious — is also made with tomato sauce, spicy and thick. Suya is thinly sliced, grilled meat served on a stick kebab-style with raw tomatoes, onions and pita bread. A little more unusual is a spinach stew with shellfish – very tasty.
However, while Kano is culturally far removed from Jamaica and the west, Abuja is a different story entirely.
ABUJA
Abuja, Nigeria’s capital, is like a sanitised, new and modern American city. It was built in the geographical centre of Nigeria, near to a rock that is similar to the Ayers-like rock in Kano. The spot was in a largely deserted area near to a tiny village called Abuja – meaning ‘the fair one’ — named after an ancient ruler more noted for his complexion than his penchant for justice.
So the newborn city hijacked the name Abuja and built this massive modern city of about 2.5 million people, with modern buildings, wide avenues and smooth, unblemished highways – a vast improvement over most other Nigerian roads. The legislature is here, an impressive building holding both the Senate and the House of Representatives.
The diplomatic community is also based here, with huge, new embassies/high commissions for the United States, Britain and Russia. Cuba has its embassy there too. And Jamaica has its high commission – though finding it is no easy task. The office is in what looks like one of Abuja’s older buildings – probably dating back to 1995 or thereabouts.
There, Ann Scott, Jamaica’s High Commissioner for the Federal Republic of Nigeria is kept busy representing the small Jamaican community of perhaps 200 people – mainly Jamaicans who have married Nigerians, often in England. She is also the high commissioner for nearby Ghana, which has a larger Jamaican population, especially of Jamaicans who are part of the ‘Back to Africa’ movement.
While trying to build closer relations with Nigeria, which like Jamaica is a member of the Commonwealth, she also promotes Jamaica at every opportunity. She sees an increase in interest from wealthy Nigerians wanting visas to travel to Jamaica for big life events, like exclusive destination weddings or birthdays.
Representing Jamaica in Abuja is no easy task. But the high commissioner keeps an eye out for Jamaican products whenever they make it on Nigerian shelves. Currently, Jamaican rum Rum Bar made by Worthy Park Estate — is on the shelves at one of the largest supermarket chains in Abuja. And the cost works out to about US$4 for a 750ml bottle – a good deal less than the approximately US$11 that it sells for in Jamaica.
It is an essential ingredient in the high commissioner’s rum punch, which she serves at various diplomatic events.
But the greatest Jamaican export appears to be Bob Marley. His music can be heard everywhere, and his birthday is recognised by most radio stations which play his music all day. His image is seen on dresses for sale in Abuja craft markets which are supposed to be specialising in things Nigerian.
But as clean and picture-perfect as Abuja might be, it is still dead on a weekend, when people head back to their home states. People seem to want to get back to their imperfect lives in their overpopulated cities, far from the peace and quiet to be found in the grand new capital.
Trying to get a flight out on a Friday afternoon, therefore, is no easy feat. And the hustle and bustle that permeates life in Lagos and Kano, and no doubt other cities, starts as soon as you get near to the airport. All of a sudden it is like you have been thrown back into Lagos, with cars jostling for minimal space – not helped by the fact that the Abuja airport is currently undergoing major reconstruction work.
Inside the airport it is a similar scene, with seemingly more people than seats – and an atmosphere that has more in common with the transport centre at Half-Way-Tree than a major airport. Later it is more confusion as people line up on the tarmac, before one last check by security, and then up the steps to the waiting plane.
The last view of Nigeria is of a country that has come a far way, but which has much further to go. Some of its citizens – millions, even – are flush with cash, much of it petrodollars, and have a lifestyle that few can emulate anywhere. But the majority are not so lucky, and must try to survive as best they can, much like the majority of Jamaica’s own people. With more than 180 million people, of varying tribal and ethnic groups, speaking more than 300 languages – the country is immense. With a new government that is focused on fighting corruption, Nigeria may be facing the future with more hope than before, despite an economy that is now in recession due to the fall in the price of their main export – oil.
Some of that is displayed in a resurgence of their own music – turning away from American R&B to explore their own beat... something like reggae on steroids.
Boko Haram or not, I can’t wait to go back and explore this exciting country even further.
This story was first printed in the Jamaica Observer at http://www.jamaicaobserver.com/lifestyle/HELLO--Nigerian_78529
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