We arrived at Abuja just before 5am following our 10pm departure from London Heathrow the previous evening. No, I couldn't sleep at all, I had underestimated how cramped and uncomfortable it would be in economy class when I had thought I could just sleep through the flight. Also, the flight itself was particularly bumpy, with severe turbulence commencing just after we passed Barcelona, and continuing until we crossed the Algerian coast. The captain, who even before departure had warned us about this turbulence, later came on the speakers to explain the reasons why the turbulence was happening, saying that it was worse than had been expected—something to do with the Atlas Mountains and converging winds. But in my weariness I paid little attention to what he said.
It was with this same weariness that having cleared the tedious border health and other immigration procedures at Abuja, I responded to being summoned by two very astute foreign exchange dealers, who seemed to have positioned themselves strategically to waylay passengers disembarking from this early morning flight who were desperate for Naira at 5am, when all other outlets would likely be closed. In exchange for three crisp currency notes, I received a thick wad of Naira notes that would not fit into my wallet, so I requested an envelope and stuffed the parcel of money into my shoulder bag.
I then logged my two other bags across the parking lot from the international terminal to the domestic departures, where upon entering the building I was approached by a young man, "To where, sir?"
As it turned out, it was this young man who led me to the correct check-in counter for my onward flight scheduled for 10am; it was he who weighed my bags, advised that I carry the less heavy bag as hand luggage, and he who transferred the heavier bag personally to the inner office for loading. As I waited for him to return, being mindful that I owed him a reward for his 'kindness', another young man came forward, "Oga, I can take you upstairs to the departures lounge to relax while you wait for your flight. You can even use the executive lounge.." as he leaned forward to pick up my hand luggage, insisting on carrying it, motioning with his hand that I follow him.
But at the foot of the escalator leading upstairs, the first man whose return I had been awaiting suddenly appeared as if from nowhere, the two of them standing side by side. So I put my arm around the shoulders of the first guy and pulled him aside, whispering that I wished to give him something and give something to the other guy too, but that I wasn't comfortable doing it all out in the open. He agreed to share with his colleague whatever I gave him, so we moved further away to a more secluded area where I opened my shoulder bag and flicked some notes off the top of the bundle those currency exchange men had given me and handed the notes to him.
We returned to the foot of the escalator where after having received his own share, the enthusiasm of the second guy who was still holding my bag seemed to escalate. After I bid a warm farewell to the first guy, the second guy led me upstairs, where on arrival at the entrance to the departures lounge itself, we were confronted with another security gate complete with a full body scanner similar to the one at the front entrance of the building.
"Oga, just hold on, these are my boys," I heard him say to me, with a hand gesture signalling that I should wait. He then walked over to the men manning the gate and said something to them, before signalling that I could come forward.
On seeing me arrive at the gate all three men jumped to attention, and I was greeted with repeated shouts of "Welcome sah", " You're welcome sah", "You're welcome", then "Oga, oya, pass, pass, just pass by the side," meaning I should walk around the side of the scanner bypassing it completely.
The guy still insisted on taking me to the executive lounge, something he had proposed the minute he met me. But I wasn't keen on making a statement that seemed to be saying that I was more important than everyone in this large crowd of people seated out in the general seating area by walking past them, and entering this place boldly signposted as the EXECUTIVE LOUNGE. My natural inclination is to identify more with the ordinary people,
If importance comes to me, let it be bestowed on me by others, not by my own self.
And so it was that I ended up sitting on a hard uncomfortable bench among the crowd in the general seating area for upward of four hours, waiting for my flight to Port Harcourt, tired after a sleepless night, and with pains to my backside from sitting for so long on that hard bench. I did eventually make it to Port Harcourt, though, even if this is not my final destination.
I intend at some point to say one or two things about my experiences in Port Harcourt too, and how different it is from how I remember it from the 1970s and 80s.
