We've arrived safely in Lagos, our last stop before we fly home tomorrow.
This was the part of the trip we had been dreading the most. Our guide book, stories from encounters along the way, as well as on the internet all confirmed Nigeria was not a safe place, the border hectic and full of officials demanding bribes, and Nigerians in particular have a very bad reputation. Every border so far we've done on our own, and never had the slightest problem of people asking for "gifts". Of course, we each time had the visas before hand, and we made sure to travel during the day time, but still, we were very pleasantly surprised how smoothly it all went, all things considering.
But Nigeria promised to be different. In the end, we opted (and invested) for safety, taking a high end bus company (Cross Country International) that would take us straight from Cotonou to Lagos. That way, we avoided taking a shared taxi to the border, crossing on our own, and then having to find another transport to Lagos. It would be about three to four times more expensive but in this case, we felt it was worth the insurance. It started by having an extra fee to pay for what they called « virgin passports » : people who had never been to Nigeria. A bit puzzling to have a different price for a bus ticket according to whether you’ve already been there or not…. There was also a maximum of 10kg as luggage (hand luggage included), which seemed surprisingly little. I mean, 20 or 16kg, okay, but ten?! Then we checked about schedules, as we wanted a morning bus, to have more time in Lagos and be sure to get there before it got dark. The manager however reassured us, saying the driver would handle everything, he has all the contacts and we wouldn’t even have to get out of the bus.
After much back and forth, seemed all morning buses were cancelled and we could either hire the bus for ourselves (at a ridiculous 120.000CFA) or take the afternoon bus. Not much of a choice, so we paid two tickets and we showed up at the appointed 15h30 on Monday. No bus to appear of course until 18h30 and then we only left at 19h, so just after dark. The first hour went smoothly, highway till the border. The Benin side was quite straightforward, though I did have to get out to point out the Benin visa, which they hadn’t recognized. Our driver still had to pay 2.700CFA for the processing of our passports, which I don’t understand, but anyway. We continued through the hectic border, with different people stopping us, some in uniform, others not. Torches are used to look at us, at the luggage inside the bus. Nigerian side, a migration officer identifies himself and kindly requests us to come into the office, apologizing profusely. We get ushered into the tiny building, and for five minutes, get asked what we do, why we got the visa in Bissau, how much had we paid it. They ask my relationship to Thomas, who I say is my cousin. “But he is older, right?” they ask. “Yes, he is the responsible one” I reply. Then they explain there are extra charges for people who come to Nigeria for the first time. I reply, saying okay, but that Cross Country International, the bus company, charged us for that, and so they should be taking care of any additional costs. The driver nods, but let’s us negotiate and deal with the officials.
“But can you support us, we have to pay for oil and electricity? Can you give us something? What do you have for us”
“Ah, I have the utmost respect and admiration for the work that you’re doing here!”, I reply.
“But so do you have something for us?”
“I would like to, but I have a friend who gave something to help an official, and he got into real trouble, so they advised us unfortunately to never give anything, I’m very sorry.” I try, as a different argument.
And so it goes back and forth a couple of time. “But so you have something for us?”
Until I say:” “What I have is a lot of gratitude for the way you welcome us to your country, newcomers who come to visit you and discover Nigeria, despite the bad reputation Nigeria sometimes has.”
Thomas elbows me and whispers: “Watch out, take it easy, don’t overdo it”.
Meanwhile, our passports have traveled down to other officials and they stamp it.
Hence, at our first chance, we exit, thanking them again. Our driver stays behind a couple of minutes more.
Back in the bus, we breathe and wait quietly until the next stops, of customs and police have been negotiated.
At the last stop of the border itself however, our bus driver turns to me and says:”So, I gave the officials some money, since you apparently referred them to me, so can you pay me back?”
Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy about this. First, the officials try to shake us down, and now our own bus driver! So I reply:”I’m sorry, but the reason we took this bus, is because your Benin Director, M Paul, assured me that we would have no problem at the border, that we could sit inside and you’d handle all the paperwork and these officials. We have done a lot of border crossings and never paid any bribes. Now, first of all, this wasn’t true, we did have to go and deal with the officials. We had to talk to them and you never stepped in or protected us in any way. We have our passports, we have our visas in order so we don’t agree to paying anything for them.
“Yes, but this isn’t about the papers, this is about establishing a relationship with them, a trust issue and you referred them to Cross Country, so I though you felt uncomfortable paying and were asking me to do so.”
My answer: “We took Cross country because they assured me you already had this trust and connection. The only time I referred to you was when they asked for the charges for newcomers to Nigeria, which is what we paid a supplement fee to our ticket for, never for anything else. So no, sorry, we can’t help you.”
The driver grudgingly turned up the music, cutting off any further dialogue, but we had clearly lost another ally.
Hence, I started to befriend some of the other passengers (three other women), as I felt any inside information or protection could prove useful, like for finding a taxi at our arrival. Most of them had rarely ever done this trip or knew Lagos well however, so not much use.
Meanwhile, the bus continued, at night, driving at a hectic speed, in the dark, getting stopped or driving passed another 30 check points, most of them with military with torches and baseball bats or sticks, and in one case, even a golf club. Sometimes we got waved through, sometimes the driver would drive through and sometimes he would get out and disappear behind, no doubt to hand out ‘gifts’. Many of these checkpoints had abandoned or burned out minibuses behind them, which wasn’t a very reassuring sight. At one point, I saw one of these going through the back seats of a car, which suddenly took off, dragging the guy along for a couple of meters until he fell out. Another military ran behind the car and smashed the trunk with his club. 5 km further, I saw an accident that had taken place and one of the cars burning. Though it seemed to be a highway, people were crossing all the time, with bags and merchandise, and sometimes with cattle.
We finally got into Lagos around 1am, at the bus station, where there were lots of people milling around or apparently ready to spend the night waiting for their transport. Our driver first insisted to find us an “approved” taxi or help us find a hotel, but we declined his help, fearing a scam to get his bribe money back that way. When you’re travelling this way, you start developing and heavily relying on your instincts on who to trust and who to avoid. Eventually, we approached an old guy who seemed trustworthy, said he had a taxi, and we showed him the address of the hotel we had picked, close to the airport, which he didn’t seem to know. Based on our Google Maps and his asking around, we explained where we thought it was, he asked 4000Naira and we offered 2500, which he accepted. Feeling a bit stupid but better safe than sorry, I made a show of writing down his licence plate and pretending to text it, so he would think somebody had his details, should anything happen. We drove around looking and not finding. Arguing, guessing, dealing with the broken English of the driver. Thomas’ iPad, which could have guided us, didn’t have any more battery and the charger wasn’t working. Finally, I use my Benin number to call the hotel, pass them the driver and it seems it is elsewhere. Now he’s asking 7000Naira to take us there. 1.30am, dark and deserted streets, no other taxis, what to do? Thomas says 3000naira, no answer but at least he keeps driving. Stopping again, asking for directions, we finally find it. I deal with the driver, sowing that the initial address is correct, but the Google directions weren’t (thanks Google Maps!) and, after involving the doormen, wind up paying 5000naira.
Meanwhile, Thomas talks to reception, they have a room, but our credit cards get declined, all of them. With a promise to sort it out tomorrow, we get a key to our room. No dinner, just Pringles, but glad to have arrived, sort of safe and sound, and thinking it could have been a lot worse.
This was the part of the trip we had been dreading the most. Our guide book, stories from encounters along the way, as well as on the internet all confirmed Nigeria was not a safe place, the border hectic and full of officials demanding bribes, and Nigerians in particular have a very bad reputation. Every border so far we've done on our own, and never had the slightest problem of people asking for "gifts". Of course, we each time had the visas before hand, and we made sure to travel during the day time, but still, we were very pleasantly surprised how smoothly it all went, all things considering.
But Nigeria promised to be different. In the end, we opted (and invested) for safety, taking a high end bus company (Cross Country International) that would take us straight from Cotonou to Lagos. That way, we avoided taking a shared taxi to the border, crossing on our own, and then having to find another transport to Lagos. It would be about three to four times more expensive but in this case, we felt it was worth the insurance. It started by having an extra fee to pay for what they called « virgin passports » : people who had never been to Nigeria. A bit puzzling to have a different price for a bus ticket according to whether you’ve already been there or not…. There was also a maximum of 10kg as luggage (hand luggage included), which seemed surprisingly little. I mean, 20 or 16kg, okay, but ten?! Then we checked about schedules, as we wanted a morning bus, to have more time in Lagos and be sure to get there before it got dark. The manager however reassured us, saying the driver would handle everything, he has all the contacts and we wouldn’t even have to get out of the bus.
After much back and forth, seemed all morning buses were cancelled and we could either hire the bus for ourselves (at a ridiculous 120.000CFA) or take the afternoon bus. Not much of a choice, so we paid two tickets and we showed up at the appointed 15h30 on Monday. No bus to appear of course until 18h30 and then we only left at 19h, so just after dark. The first hour went smoothly, highway till the border. The Benin side was quite straightforward, though I did have to get out to point out the Benin visa, which they hadn’t recognized. Our driver still had to pay 2.700CFA for the processing of our passports, which I don’t understand, but anyway. We continued through the hectic border, with different people stopping us, some in uniform, others not. Torches are used to look at us, at the luggage inside the bus. Nigerian side, a migration officer identifies himself and kindly requests us to come into the office, apologizing profusely. We get ushered into the tiny building, and for five minutes, get asked what we do, why we got the visa in Bissau, how much had we paid it. They ask my relationship to Thomas, who I say is my cousin. “But he is older, right?” they ask. “Yes, he is the responsible one” I reply. Then they explain there are extra charges for people who come to Nigeria for the first time. I reply, saying okay, but that Cross Country International, the bus company, charged us for that, and so they should be taking care of any additional costs. The driver nods, but let’s us negotiate and deal with the officials.
“But can you support us, we have to pay for oil and electricity? Can you give us something? What do you have for us”
“Ah, I have the utmost respect and admiration for the work that you’re doing here!”, I reply.
“But so do you have something for us?”
“I would like to, but I have a friend who gave something to help an official, and he got into real trouble, so they advised us unfortunately to never give anything, I’m very sorry.” I try, as a different argument.
And so it goes back and forth a couple of time. “But so you have something for us?”
Until I say:” “What I have is a lot of gratitude for the way you welcome us to your country, newcomers who come to visit you and discover Nigeria, despite the bad reputation Nigeria sometimes has.”
Thomas elbows me and whispers: “Watch out, take it easy, don’t overdo it”.
Meanwhile, our passports have traveled down to other officials and they stamp it.
Hence, at our first chance, we exit, thanking them again. Our driver stays behind a couple of minutes more.
Back in the bus, we breathe and wait quietly until the next stops, of customs and police have been negotiated.
At the last stop of the border itself however, our bus driver turns to me and says:”So, I gave the officials some money, since you apparently referred them to me, so can you pay me back?”
Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy about this. First, the officials try to shake us down, and now our own bus driver! So I reply:”I’m sorry, but the reason we took this bus, is because your Benin Director, M Paul, assured me that we would have no problem at the border, that we could sit inside and you’d handle all the paperwork and these officials. We have done a lot of border crossings and never paid any bribes. Now, first of all, this wasn’t true, we did have to go and deal with the officials. We had to talk to them and you never stepped in or protected us in any way. We have our passports, we have our visas in order so we don’t agree to paying anything for them.
“Yes, but this isn’t about the papers, this is about establishing a relationship with them, a trust issue and you referred them to Cross Country, so I though you felt uncomfortable paying and were asking me to do so.”
My answer: “We took Cross country because they assured me you already had this trust and connection. The only time I referred to you was when they asked for the charges for newcomers to Nigeria, which is what we paid a supplement fee to our ticket for, never for anything else. So no, sorry, we can’t help you.”
The driver grudgingly turned up the music, cutting off any further dialogue, but we had clearly lost another ally.
Hence, I started to befriend some of the other passengers (three other women), as I felt any inside information or protection could prove useful, like for finding a taxi at our arrival. Most of them had rarely ever done this trip or knew Lagos well however, so not much use.
Meanwhile, the bus continued, at night, driving at a hectic speed, in the dark, getting stopped or driving passed another 30 check points, most of them with military with torches and baseball bats or sticks, and in one case, even a golf club. Sometimes we got waved through, sometimes the driver would drive through and sometimes he would get out and disappear behind, no doubt to hand out ‘gifts’. Many of these checkpoints had abandoned or burned out minibuses behind them, which wasn’t a very reassuring sight. At one point, I saw one of these going through the back seats of a car, which suddenly took off, dragging the guy along for a couple of meters until he fell out. Another military ran behind the car and smashed the trunk with his club. 5 km further, I saw an accident that had taken place and one of the cars burning. Though it seemed to be a highway, people were crossing all the time, with bags and merchandise, and sometimes with cattle.
We finally got into Lagos around 1am, at the bus station, where there were lots of people milling around or apparently ready to spend the night waiting for their transport. Our driver first insisted to find us an “approved” taxi or help us find a hotel, but we declined his help, fearing a scam to get his bribe money back that way. When you’re travelling this way, you start developing and heavily relying on your instincts on who to trust and who to avoid. Eventually, we approached an old guy who seemed trustworthy, said he had a taxi, and we showed him the address of the hotel we had picked, close to the airport, which he didn’t seem to know. Based on our Google Maps and his asking around, we explained where we thought it was, he asked 4000Naira and we offered 2500, which he accepted. Feeling a bit stupid but better safe than sorry, I made a show of writing down his licence plate and pretending to text it, so he would think somebody had his details, should anything happen. We drove around looking and not finding. Arguing, guessing, dealing with the broken English of the driver. Thomas’ iPad, which could have guided us, didn’t have any more battery and the charger wasn’t working. Finally, I use my Benin number to call the hotel, pass them the driver and it seems it is elsewhere. Now he’s asking 7000Naira to take us there. 1.30am, dark and deserted streets, no other taxis, what to do? Thomas says 3000naira, no answer but at least he keeps driving. Stopping again, asking for directions, we finally find it. I deal with the driver, sowing that the initial address is correct, but the Google directions weren’t (thanks Google Maps!) and, after involving the doormen, wind up paying 5000naira.
Meanwhile, Thomas talks to reception, they have a room, but our credit cards get declined, all of them. With a promise to sort it out tomorrow, we get a key to our room. No dinner, just Pringles, but glad to have arrived, sort of safe and sound, and thinking it could have been a lot worse.
1 comment:
Sounds like an intense night! This is not an aspect of traveling that I miss.
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