Nigeria, where getting a ‘blessing’ is not quite what it sounds like

Five years ago I took a taxi from Mpumalanga to Park Station in Johannesburg. I was alone and didn’t know where to find my next taxi once I got here.

Act like you know where you’re going to avoid getting mugged, I told myself.

I tried and failed, and a young man grabbed the opportunity to “help” me.

“Sisi, where are you going?” he asked. I hesitated, but ended up asking him for directions to the next taxi rank, which he gave.

“So my sister, give me money since I helped you,” he said in Zulu.

I was not about to fight with someone in the CBD, so I obliged with R20 for this local GPS service.

My friend later told me there is nothing for mahala on the Joburg streets. And last month, I found myself at the Murtala Mohammed International Airport in Lagos, Nigeria. It turned out I hadn’t learnt my lesson.

Having to deal with what felt like a sudden change of not just seasons, but planets, after a six-hour flight – from winter in Johannesburg to a drenched tropical hothouse – probably contributed to my temporary loss of memory and street-savvy.

My glasses were not helping either. I kept seeing white fog thanks to the 90% humidity.

A woman approached me.

“My sister, do you want to make a phone call?” she asked, getting no response. “Don’t worry, I work here,” she said as she showed me a logo on her purple golf shirt. “This is your blessing, my sister. I’m blessing you with a phone call.”

Prophet TB Joshua’s anointing must be powerful in this part of the world.

“Okay, now you have to pay for using my credit. Even if it’s your currency, I can change it,” was what followed this blessing, leaving me wondering how “blessing” is defined in this part of the world.

While the woman did not get a cent from me, she stuck around so she could claim her money from the person who was picking me up (which served him right for basically leaving my arrival to blind – or glass-blinded – fate)

A few minutes later, another man approached me with the same offer. This time I accepted it after making it clear I would not pay him, though he still asked for compensation from the person who was picking me up.

That was my welcome at one of Africa’s busiest airports in the continent’s most populated country, in a city that is as busy as you’d imagine.

Like Johannesburg, Lagos is where people go to work. The noise pollution and traffic would make it difficult to go for relaxation – unless vibrant night life is your way of winding down.

Should you ask anyone to drive you anywhere, all they’ll complain about is traffic.

A Nigerian told me it’s because, unlike Johannesburg, Lagos has just one main road that everyone must use to get just about anywhere.

Lagos probably would have been a less intimidating experience had it not been for the repeated warnings by a doctor and others to not let a single drop of the country’s water enter my mouth.

“Don’t eat salads – everything that goes into your mouth must have either been cooked or peeled,” was one warning. “Only drink tap water if you’re Nigerian or have a stomach of steel.”

This was in addition to the yellow fever and typhoid shots I had to take and the anti-malaria tablets I had to pop from the night before boarding the flight to Lagos to seven nights after returning to OR Tambo.

(Side note: The yellow fever shot must be taken at least 10 days before visiting the country.)

As a first-time visitor, you are made to feel like you’re walking into a war zone, although after a day you’ll realise it’s not all bad – just remember to keep the air-con on in your hotel room.

Driving through the streets of Lagos, the residential areas present you with nothing but high walls, motorbikes, cars, buses and buzzing tuk tuks.

You also see how Nigerian businesspeople literally take their services to the people. In South Africa you have to go to a store of some sort to buy bags of cement or bathroom essentials, but these can be found on the roadside in Lagos, along with most other products. The city is like a great big open-air market.

The people

Like South Africans, Nigerians are lively and loud. In conversation, their audibility will never be a problem, though the heavy accents sometimes will.

I tried to understand a woman who welcomed me to the hotel and the only thing I managed to pick up was “10,000 naira”, which we eventually established was my dinner allowance. That was about R400.

Nigerians were shocked to hear that anyone thinks they have an accent.

Like in most countries, Nigeria has its good folk and those who make a living from taking your things – which you will be amply warned of ahead of time. You will be advised to carry a dummy wallet, avoid wearing expensive clothing and to refrain from using gadgets while walking in the city to avoid the hawk eyes.

Phrases such as “my sister/brother”, “I beg” and “you’re welcome” are as also as common in real life as they are in Nigerian films.

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