36 hours in Nigeria

My journey began after the morning clinic with last minute admin tasks keeping me in the Practice until after 1pm. It was a Lewis Hamilton dash to Leeds Train Station and another lovely LNER train ride to London Kings Cross Station . I’d always driven to London Heathrow so this was a new experience.

I pushed the trolley with my suitcases and was about getting in the lift towards the Underground. There were some passengers in it and there wasn’t enough room. I looked over my shoulder to ask the person behind me to get in. ‘Twas a familiar face. Uncle Joe! We hugged and waited for the lift to come back. It had been over a decade since we last met. He was on his way to Doha via Heathrow Airport. We got on the Piccadilly Line and an hour later I was at T5 and the Departure Hall even before check-in began. Wow! No last minute today. Things MUST be getting better.

The flight was  alright and with dawn came the familiar site of Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport. The arrival process was smooth. Was I looking for something negative? Okay the luggage arrived on two carousels, one broke down briefly but was promptly restored. I was through Ports Health, Immigration and Customs in no time.

A friend had arranged accommodation in a Guest House which was close to three places I had to visit that day. How to get there? A Bolt hire cab arrived in good time and it was a fast ride on the quiet streets this Thursday morning. Nearly half an hour later, the cab pulled up at my destination and I was shell-shocked. The end-house looked like a once-lovely house that had been abandoned, adjacent to bushy land. If I get kidnapped here, they’ll simply disappear into the bush, was my first thought. The gate was open.

“Should I drive in?” Even the cab driver was ill-at-ease.

“No,” I replied softly.

After what looked like eternity, I threw caution to the wind and asked him to drive in. The old building had a vacant look. There was a young man brushing off dried algae from the weather-bitten, cemented drive-in. A pleasant young lady came out to welcome me and informed me they had been expecting me since 4am. That gave me little assurance. I was definitely in the right place. She was very nice and I liked her hospitality. It felt like a village environment. She had facial hair. As both of them helped take my bags inside, I was wondering whether she had issues with dysmenorrhoea, abnormal periods or fertility. She had no facial acne. Okay, I read up Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) only yesterday.

I was quickly jolted back to the present. A few sockets needed replacing and the walls could use fresh paint. There was an eerie feeling. The short climb up the flight of stairs was long. There was a disconnect between my legs and my brain. What have I got myself into? The room was spacious. The AC worked. A bucket of hot water was soon brought in for my bath. Breakfast was ready. Fried plantain, egg sauce and Quaker Oats. First time I was having such a combination. There were cubes of sugar and Carnation milk. Chai.

There was enough food to feed three hungry adults. The arrival shock was slowly dissipating. I had no appetite but decided to taste the food. Mmm… the egg sauce tasted nice. I felt like a hypocrite. I ate a little, a bit more and before long, the plate was empty. Shame catch me small… after all the posing. The large bowl of oat meal came to life with three cubes of sugar and a generous helping of evaporated milk. I managed half of it. Belly was full and I could blaspheme – no place like home! Postprandial stupor followed but not for long. Another Bolt cab took me to the venue of the 2022 Annual Lecture of the Nigerian Academy of Medicine. There, I listened to my teacher, mentor and ‘dad’, Emeritus Professor Nimi Briggs who was the Guest Lecturer. A quick ‘hi and bye’ after the lecture as he was dashing off to a meeting at Aso Rock with President Muhammadu Buhari and others. Nimi Briggs‘ Committee is in charge of the renegotiation of the 2009 agreement between the government and the university-based staff unions. Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) had embarked on a nationwide strike with closure of Universities for most of the year!

My nephew arrived to take me to a private hospital to see a friend who had limb weakness and was undergoing Physiotherapy when he had seizures and MRI Head scan revealed something unpleasant. I was making inquiries about Gamma knife therapy costs in my neck of the woods for him while he was admitted at the National Hospital Abuja (NHA). There was no capacity to operate for another two months at NHA but miraculously he was admitted in a private hospital and had surgery within two days. I got to the private hospital which looked quite ordinary (a feeling of déjà vu). There he was, a few days after major brain surgery already up and about chatting with me. What a delight. There was traditional hospitality from his wife – Fisherman’s soup! I was quite conscious about the high calorie density of eba so I asked for just a small wrap. The soup was out of this world and I asked for a second wrap of eba.

Woe is me!

A drive back to my now familiar guest house after the visit, and another nap. Next stop was the Shehu Yaradua Centre and a Night of Tributes for an Alumna – De Goz. A sombre evening and when I watched the video of her nine-year old daughter saying her farewell, the tears rolled down my cheeks. The brutality and finality of death.

There was no escape on return to the guest house after 9pm. Late dinner was waiting. Another heavy dose of eba, this time with Okro soup. Shortly after 11pm, I sprang up in bed, like the old man in Alan Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart. It was bad enough not being at home with the family for the boss’ birthday. I’d not bought a present or even left a signed card behind. A great idea dropped! I turned on the laptop and searched ‘same day flower delivery in Leeds’. There were some options. I chose a bouquet of flowers, a chocolate, added an optional message and went to check out. Card declined! 11.36pm. Card 2 declined. Card 3 declined! If you’re so efficient blocking the cards of genuine holders, how come so much is lost to fraudsters every day?

Happy Birthday, MissKay! I tried. Too little too late?

Sudden darkness. Power failure (NEPA don take light) and the eerie silence of the night was dramatically kicked to touch by the start of a rather noisy diesel generator which appeared to be housed right under the bed I sat on. At least it sufficiently powered the air conditioner in the room. Soon, like Gabriel Okara, I dreamed a dream in my dead sleep…

3am: Again I sat up and grabbed my laptop for Online check-in. Here’s the story. Sito Jays, a childhood family friend was to be interred in my village, Ogoloma after a funeral service late Saturday morning. I was scheduled to fly from Abuja to Port Harcourt at 7am. Mohammed would be at Omagwa Airport to pick me shortly after 8am and take me straight to the village to pay my last respect. I’ll then return to Port Harcourt to check into the hotel. Are you with me? Right! So I got on Arik Air website to check in. Lo and behold, the 7am flight had been cancelled. Sleep vanished from my eyes.

5am: I saw a colleague Online on WhatsApp and sent a distressed message. He called me. I was lucky. He knew an Arik Air Manager and promised to see if he could help. The Manager knew someone at Air Peace and there was an 11am flight. That person sent an account number and by 6am I had paid one hundred thousand naira  to help me purchase an economy ticket on Air Peace.

I got to the Airport in good time. The Air Peace flight was delayed by over an hour before we boarded. While waiting in the departure lounge, I heard a now familiar characteristic voice and looked up. He walked past me carrying his hand luggage by himself in his trademark dark top and trousers, an aide next to him. No airs. No other than the man of the moment, the father of the Obidient movement and the last hope of millions of Nigerians, Peter Obi. Soon, people were scurrying towards him to take selfies. I was tempted to do likewise but I restrained the child in me! Later, I noticed he was seated in the first row of the economy section of the aeroplane. Modesty. Still no airs. We waited another thirty minutes after boarding. The Captain said there was a military operation. Perhaps the President was flying out, so the airspace was closed.

Finally, we touched down in Port Harcourt around 1.30pm. I was still determined to get to the village. Mohammed was waiting. At 2.30pm, we met a gridlock at the dreaded Akpajo Junction on the East-West Road, a major road that leads to an economic centre of Nigeria. For the five decades plus of my life, this road has always been in one state of disrepair or the other. After almost half an hour in one spot, I asked the driver to make a U-turn and we drove to the hotel. My late friend’s spirit will know I tried… There was a comic TV series in Nigeria called Ikebe Hospital. It’s strapline was “Anything Can Happen.” Indeed, always expect the best in Naija but be prepared for the worst.

Oak Haven Hotel is like a second home and there were smiley, familiar faces at the Reception when we arrived. Late lunch was quickly ordered after check-in. Small luxury. Welcome to the FlyOva (Garden) City!