lafiya lau
on Fantastic Voyage (Nigeria), 21/Jun/2010 20:58, 34 days ago
So, do you remember in HP1 when Harry rides a broomstick for the first time?It’s been talked about for ages, and he’s quite nervous about it: it seems some kind of marker of the magical community or masculinity or just peer acceptance.Anyway, he streaks up into the sky after Malfoy and the first thought is something like‘This was easy.This wasfun.’And that’s what went through my head as our ramshackle, overcrowded minibus roared along the road towards Akwanga.Public transport in Nigeria is what everyone talks about constantly, and it’s a pretty intense experience.Vehicles can be anything, can take as many people as can possibly squeeze in, and can go as fast as the driver dares.It makes a very big difference if you’re sat next to someone big or small; fragrant or rancid.Buses sit and wait until they’re ‘full’ in the searing heat of motor parks – the only places we’ve encountered thus far that feel like that stereotype of the developing world with searing heat, heaps of rubbish of every kind, sellers of every conceivable foodstuff or counterfeit item, and people imploring for money with their various deformities and disfigurements on show.English is rarely what’s being shouted or groaned – it’s either Pidgin (a different language altogether, really) or the local languages: our capacity to say ‘good morning’ and ‘how’s your family’ in Hausa not of so much use in this environment.So it should be a terrifying, frustrating exercise in powerlessness and embarrassment.Especially if you’re a foolish enoughbaturi(white man), overburdened by your rucksack, to lose your balance when getting off a motorbike and fall slowly onto your back in front of everyone.As I did on our return leg.But, like basically everything else here, while the intensity of the sensory experience and the chaos are wildly exhilarating, it’s all neatly and joyously framed by a country of surpassing beauty, and packaged by a people who are – so far absolutely without exception – just utterly, utterly lovely.Anyway, it was good.And that’s obviously only made better by Michael Jackson belting out his greatest hits, competing gamely with the wind howling through every open window as you hurtle along the road to Akwanga.We were going with another volunteer– the superb Lucy Stiles, who has her own blog – to see what volunteering here has been like for her.She was guiding us through all of this journeying and vehicle hopping; but of course, as the only person in our party in proud possession of a penis, I was the one repeatedly asked (by a driver who seemed to speak only Hausa) where we were going, whereupon I spluttered and gurgled in a confused manner and finally, bundled onto anokada(motorbike taxi), didn’t even have the presence of mind to remove the sticker covering the front of the helmet’s visor.Very fashionable, but not so conducive to sight seeing.There’s lots more to be said about Akwanga and its multiple glories, but it’ll keep for another day when the power (called NEPA – the standard joke is that it stands for ‘Never Expect Power Again’) doesn’t keep on dying...