Being Nigerian For a Week

By the time my suitcase made it down the carousel at Murtala Mohammed airport in Lagos, my white shirt was no longer as crisp as it had been on the flight from Amsterdam. I had sweated a whole day’s worth of sweat – even if this was a Sunday night; I’d been made to feel like less of a man by women that pushed me aside so that they could stand where I was standing to await my aforementioned luggage, and ultimately, everyone said the same thing: Welcome to Lagos.

One week later, the distinct sentiment of being in the business hub of Africa’s largest economy is one of raw bruises. I was neither physically roughed up nor tangled with in anyone of my dealings. But there is sand and small rough pebbles in the back of my head and within my soul when I think of Lagos. And for some reason, none of these things is meant to be negative. In fact, the closest way for me to expound on Lagos to myself is that it is just like Kinshasa – with people who speak English, and with many more people.

Of course, this is not helpful to you, since you may have not had the chance to visit either Kinshasa or Lagos. Well, the truth is that you cannot compare Lagos to any other part of the world. None. You cannot see Kampala in Lagos since juxtaposing humidity will not make a pretty oxymoron. You could say that the customer service is very much like the kind you receive in Addis Ababa, but that would not be true since Lagosians – including the Yoruba – cannot be put in a box. You could go to a club and find the most courteous of courtesans, and then walk into a book store and get shocked at imbecilic behavior. But again, I am apparently circling the drain and not making my point.

So, let me come out and say it: If you want to do business in Africa, go to Nigeria. If you want to be absolutely impressed by what Africa achieved in the 1960s and 1970s, go to Lagos. If you want to see what wealth can do, go to Lagos. If you want to get a distinct sense of culture and unison – a work ethos of sorts – go to Lagos. Although I’d been to Lagos before, and even made it to Abuja, the one-week immersion into the city was like being schooled in ambition and being the Alpha Male. There’s no place for weakness in Lagos. Every part of this city is someone’s territory. If you do not act right as you drive around, the kids who use the perforations in the lids of mineral water bottles to wash your windscreen will neither do it right nor give you the attention you require in debilitating traffic. If you take the wrong turn into territory that belongs to this particular gang, you will pay through your pores. And do not try to be coy while giving instructions to your driver. You must be firm, or else, they will not drive you around with their heads held high. You must be assertive and make the case for what you want or you will never get anything done right here.

Invariably, while you’re in Lagos, look out for the sheer amount of literary material. You will not find this amount of home-made reading material in any other part of Africa. South Africa has the music. Kenya has the tourism greeting cards. Nigeria has its books. Coffee table books. Novels. Magazines. Brochures. Cards. Everything. Forget East Africa’s jua kali or Zambia’s overall acumen. Nigeria is all about the books. They celebrate their professors and reading culture there. In Lagos, there’s a push to read something – unlike Kinshasa where they just want something written. Did you catch the slight difference?

I know that I am not mentioning everything. But that is the point of third or fourth visits. And yes – after a few days of being in Lagos, you suddenly realize that you could thrive in this city – even if you swore, only a few days earlier, that you’d never move here. Lagos grows onto you – and you start to see how closely it resembles Miami. Then, you realize that Lagos is perhaps one of the only places you have seen people ride their luxury boats without lights. You also find that on your way out of the airport, the exit drama is even more mind-titivating that you expected. You see color and you see strife. You see a system that thrives on organized chaos. And again, as your plane takes off, you remember that you have only just started to know Lagos. Welcome to Lagos.