Lagos, Nigeria - 01 May 08 to 04 May 08

You're going where?  Lagos?  You must be crazy!!  My uncle went there 5 years ago and they stole a briefcase right out of his hand!!  Do you have to go?  Why would you want to go there?  Don't you know that that place is very dangerous?

These were the type of responses I got from people, even in neighboring Benin, upon telling them of my final destination in West Africa.  But something about this pulsing megalopolis, the world's third-largest city in fact, was drawing me in.  I scheduled my outbound flight from West Africa down to Johannesburg from Lagos intentionally so that I would have an opportunity to visit this unique place.  

I first had to make it into Nigeria, however.  Getting the visa while I was in Accra, Ghana had been a multi-day process involving much pleading and cajoling and had cost $100 for a simple transit visa.  After I made it through the official customs post, I then had to run the gauntlet of corrupt border officials on the 200-meter or so walk from the border crossing to the motor park where the onward transport waited.  I counted how many times I was stopped by different uniformed border officials, who lurked at various spots about every 100 feet or so: 7 times.  In Nigeria, when someone asks for a "dash", they're asking for a little bribe to facilitate whatever action or transaction you desire.  I could tell these guys were all scoping me out, so I took a deep breath and tried to summon patience.  

Seven times I was ordered to stop and show papers, make an explanation of myself, state my purpose, whatever.  All the while I could tell these guys were just digging for any small discrepancy to hit on so that they could demand a "dash".  My ngoni saved me every time.  Invariably, people wanted to know what was this instrument that I was carrying, why, where did it come from, could I play it.  After playing a simple melody, receiving a smile and a good laugh, they always let me go.  In fact, I passed my entire 4 days in Nigeria without ever having to pay a single dash, which might be some kind of record.

Here is the motor park that I reached to look for onward transport after having run the gauntlet at the border.

Making it into Lagos was a bit confusing.  I had to take a car to another motor park on the outskirts, change to a big collective van that took me in to Lagos Island, then get a taxi to take me downtown.  It took a couple of hours.  I was all jacked up because of all the hype about how dangerous it was, but really, it was just like any other big African city I've visited, and every time things were confusing someone was there who offered me help and advice on how to get through the next stage.

I walked all around the lower downtown for a couple hours looking for a place to stay, but the few hotels in the guidebook were either full or too expensive.  Finally, I wandered by luck into an area between Lagos Island and Ikoye (which have now merged) called Obalende, which was an entertainment and residential district packed with people and bustling little streets that had a really cool vibe.  I found a run-down old place called the Obalende Guest House run by a blind man and his wife who were very nice and offered me a discounted rate.  With a home base, I now had the opportunity to let loose and explore Lagos.

Here is the Obalende Motor Park, located inbetween the islands of Lagos and Ikoye.  The central part of Lagos, similar to New York City, is located on a series of islands.  The main downtown is Lagos Island, Ikoye has most of the embassies and consulates, and Victoria Island has most of the really rich (from oil money) banks and upscale properties.  On the mainland are most of the residential neighborhoods in a sprawl that spreads for several miles.

This motor park seemed to be perpetually submerged in about 4 inches of black, oily water.  The cars and busses would just cruise on through, sending black waves splashing up toward the sidewalk so you had to watch out.  

I spent the next few days wandering around Lagos Island.  

This building had a typical message written on it: "Beware of 419".  419 is the Nigerian code for fraud.  It can refer to those mass emails we've all gotten soliciting help getting a large sum of money out of Nigeria, if only you provide your bank details; it can also refer to the practice of breaking into an unoccupied property and then selling it off to an unsuspecting third party.  

Evangelical Christianity has a lot of clout in southern Nigeria.  

The iconic entrance to Tafa Balewa Square in downtown Lagos.

The entrance to the National Museum.  A fascinating place, I spent the whole day here and still hadn't seen it all when they closed the doors.

The licence plates from Lagos State.  

Motorcycle taxis awaiting clients in the shade.  

While heading uptown toward the market district, I passed this outdoor wedding, very similar to many other weddings I saw in West Africa.  

A famous old bookshop in Lagos.  I read that there is some Afro-Brazilian architecture in Lagos, similar to Benin, that was built by returned former slaves from Brazil.  I thought this might be an example of one of the buildings but I am not sure.

There is a raised expressway called Ring Road which runs around the circumference of Lagos Island.  Central transportation centers can also be found periodically along the perimeter.  

The downtown Lagos skyline.  

The harbor in Lagos.

Getting close to the market district, which takes up the entire northern third of Lagos Island.

Lagos' downtown mosque, with a garbage dump in the foreground.  

This building spontaneously collapsed one day.  I asked a street vendor about it and he told me that one day a couple of years ago, as everyone was minding their business, they heard a huge crash and looked up to find the building had caved in with no warning.  Unfortunately, several hundred people died in the collapse.  

A closer view of the collapsed building.

Getting in to the market district.  

Masses of people thronging the streets in the market district at the northern end of Lagos Island.  

More market and more people than I ever saw.  There were streets and streets forever packed with people and stalls selling anything and everything.  

Getting near to sunset.

The daily commute home.  Lagos is infamous for its traffic jams, called "go-slows".  At the end of the working day, thousands and thousands of people were trying to get off of the island back to the residential districts on the mainland.  Traffic was at an absolute standstill and many thousands of these people were simply walking across the bridges back home.  

Another day, I walked east through Ikoye and across a big bridge onto Victoria Island.  Here is a roadside statue as one arrives on VI.  

This guy reminded me of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but I don't think he was a police officer.  

A megabank built from millions of dollars of oil money.

Hey everyone, pay up.

Taken from the bridge back to Lagos Island, local fishermen ply the waters.

A view from underneath the raised causeway encircling Lagos Island.

The ruins of this boat were lying at the bottom of a ditch underneath the raised expressway.

The Obalende Guest House, my home away from home in Lagos.

My room in the Obalende Guest House.

The street outfront of the guesthouse in Obalende.

Below is a picture of me and my friend Shuaib Mumuney-Bako.  I met him while walking around the Obalende District.  He invited me to have a few drinks and we hung out for a while.  He was really nice and showed me around Obalende, but at first was very suspicious of me.  He was confused about the purpose of my presence in Nigeria and in Obalende (I was the only foreign tourist I saw the entire time I was there).  He asked me outright if I was an undercover CIA agent.  I have met with this suspicion before in different African countries.  Unfortunately, the suspicion is fully justified as the CIA has taken part in many covert actions in Africa in the past, some resulting in the assassination of legitimately elected African leaders such as Patrice Lumumba.

Politics aside and suspicions assuaged, my friend Mumuney invited me to his friend's bachelor party the next night.  It was held in a small park almost underneath a raised expressway adjacent to the Obalende Motor Park.  There was much drinking and dancing, as to be expected, and I got some leads on some new dance music.  Nigeria has a great music scene from the little that I observed and heard.  

The highlight of a bachelor party in Nigeria is when everyone is supposed to spray the groom with beer until he is completely soaked from head to toe.  Because we were in a children's park, the agreement was that we had to soak him with water instead so the ubiquitous plastic bags of water known all over West Africa as "Pure Wata" were handed out and we all rushed the groom at the appropriate hour and doused every inch of him.  

Me and Mumuney.

As evening approached on May 4th, I made the journey via public transport and motorcycle taxi out to Nigeria's international airport, at the north end of the city on the mainland.  The whole time it was running through my mind that this was my last day in West Africa.  I felt nostalgic already, missing the people and places I'd seen, and at the same time excited and anxious to return to Mozambique and see all of my friends there after 5 years of absence.  

The next post will be a short account of my transit of South Africa, followed by a post on my month spent in Mozambique.  Stay tuned.