21. Nigeria: Niger border to Kano

We felt pretty sober crossing into Nigeria.  We could vaguely remember reading about the Biafran War. We knew the country was divided into three large areas, with the north Muslim centered around Kano, with Hausa and Fulani ethnic groups.  The southeast is the part that had tried to secede in the Biafran war, dominated by the Igbo ethnic groups.  Finally, the west, centered around Lagos and Ibadan with a majority of Yoruba speaking people.

Our route across Nigeria in yellow. 

We had heard a lot of bad stories about Nigeria.  It had been the country that was most difficult to get visas.  Like Texas in the US it was the superlative country.  Most populous, “most dangerous”, most oil, “most corruption”,…  We had been counting on staying longer than usual as we had a number of contacts through Dan’s University Advisor, Dr. O.W. Bidwell.  He had taught University in Nigeria in an exchange program.  Through him we had arranged to work as volunteers in a range management project in Plateau State near Jos.  In Niamey we had heard that that opportunity had fallen through, so we were faced with making the first real changes to our travel plans.  So far we were running a few days ahead of schedule…

Nigeria

(HELENA) We had a jolt when we got over to the Nigerian side.  First we went to have our passports stamped. SLOOOOW!  I would say this is the first country where they have actually read what the visa said. Even so, the three men in the office were very new at their jobs and had to consult each other on every detail. (Ex. “How do I place this stamp?)  After that we walked into another office where we had to declare all our money. Someone had told me that, but I had forgotten and had never mentioned it to Dan, so we were unprepared.  The unfair thing is that only the two of us had to declare our money.  No one else in the car had to.  We were ages because the man had to write the whole form out by hand; in fact he made the form right on the spot.  Now, if we are good, law-abiding folks, we’11 change all our money at the very unfavorable bank rates. If not (so the man said) they’ll take all our belongings away. Hmmmm.

We were finally on our way to Kano after about 40 minutes at the Nigerian border. WE THOUGHT! We got only as far as the border town of Jibiya when we pulled into the truck park.  We were told to switch to another taxi since only three of us were continuing on to Kano. Somehow we learned that the price from there to Kano was about half of what we paid to go from just across the border. Dan flared his nostrils in the Maureen tradition, but everybody just laughed at him and walked away.

Nigerian countryside during Harmattan

Those 214 km were among the most tense in my life.  For one thing, we arrived in Nigeria in the midst of a Harmattan, so there was dust in the air that made for terrible visibility. That made passing very chancy because we could not see if anything was coming from the other direction until it was almost upon us. Let me tell you, we had plenty of chances to experience that because we were always passing others and nobody passed us.  The backs of all of the public transportation cars have “56 KPH” printed on them, but we clocked ourselves and saw we were actually going 110 KPH (68.75 mph).  Amazing how the driving has suddenly worsened.  All along the way we saw abandoned wrecks of vehicles and burned hulks of cars.  Just everything goes--and fast.

One stretch of the many km of top quality paved highways we saw in Nigeria.  Poor visibility due to the Harmattan.

Not too far from Kano we were fortunate because we had to slow down for something, and then had a major blowout before we got back up to the 110 KPH. We naturally were not feeling the best when we did get to Kano, so it was particularly discouraging to discover that the truck park is no longer where “Geoff” says it should be. We walked for two hours, and finally I stayed with the packs while Dan went in search of the new Kano State Tourist Camp that we had heard about from Malcolm, the PCV from Ghana. He found it, and although the accommodations were more expensive than expected, we settled in thankfully. For 10 Nairas we stayed in a room with 8 beds, had the use of a kitchen and a hot shower.  We could have pitched our tent, but we decided we needed a good night’s sleep. No one else slept in the room with us.  The “camp” (place to pitch tents) also includes hot showers, a kitchen, refrigerators, lobby, and color TV.

The two-hour walk with packs that we took to find this place was a nightmare because we had to weave our way in and out between car wrecks left along the side of the street, cars whizzing by, people with the usual comments on baturis (local version of toubab or white foreigner) and trash.  It is what one would call a “city throbbing with life”, and this after­noon we felt every throb.

Kano, Nigeria, Friday, December 31, 1982

(DAN)  After a good breakfast in the spacious dining room, I set out to change money.  We had planned to buy money on the black market here, but had been surprised by the declaration of our money at the border.  Even with the strict laws and the accompanying threats, my investigation at a bank “forced” us to change on the black market.  There is a very strong black market here.  Many people approached us surreptitiously on the street, and three people here in the camp tried to make us promise to change with them. I had been offered $1 for 1 naira (1:1). I found at the bank they will give us .65 N for $1. One does not have to be a genius to see that one’s stay in Nigeria is roughly twice as expensive if you change at the bank.  Furthermore, I had changed money into CFA in Niamey expressly to buy Naira. Judging by what I had been offered on the street through this process, I could get 1.35 N to $1 or more than twice the bank rate. What really motivated us to take the risk was that at the border they only made white foreigners declare their money, and therefore only white travelers are bound by law to change at the banks.  If we are caught, we will make a stink because Nigeria is always at the front of the movements in opposition to Apartheid, yet they have this sort of law. However, we are not sure just how far we can count on the arm of the ACLU to reach!

So with heart in mouth I went over to the part of town where they have money changers, called over a shifty character, and started bargaining.  The guy was not very quick at ad­dition even though he had a snazzy calculator, and the process drew a crowd of about 20 persons. I don’t know when I have felt so paranoid_.  After we had made the transaction and I was walking away, I was ever so aware that there were at least 20 persons who knew I had nearly $200 Nairas on me.  Fortunately, the street was four-lane and very busy, so I crossed and re-crossed the street and stopped to buy a coke to make sure that nobody was following me. It may turn out to be unwise in the long run, say when we try to leave the country, but until then our cost of living is roughly half of what it might be. At the real value of the dollar, life in Nigeria is actually cheaper than in Niger in many ways.

Kano and Nigeria have been a real eye opener.  There is a lot of money running around; the road down from Niger was as good as any I’ve ever seen; Mercedes Benzes, Peugeots, and fancy Toyotas zip around thousands of motorcycles, but the money has not reached many areas. There is apparently no effective garbage disposal system, and there is trash piled high and in places occupying a full lane of the street on both sides of the main drag. There is an incredible volume of fast traffic, yet in a two-hour walk across the city, we saw only one traffic light. There are open sewers as in Bamako, Bobo and Ouaga, but here they have not been maintained and are literally overflowing.  There is no sidewalk policy, etc., etc.  We’re talking about the second city of the second wealthiest country in Africa.  Of course it did not help our opinion that during our stay there has been a continual cloud of clay dust in the air re­ducing visibility to 100 to 300 meters.  The dust is to me an indication of neglect of another kind in the countryside.

A main street in Kano.

Helena and I spent the rest of the day resting and shopping to get us through the long weekend.

Fully rested, we pitched our tent and resumed our preferred pastime of watching the ac­tivities of fellow campers. We really hit the jackpot here in the form of an “Encounter Overland” vehicle. It is a company that organizes long overland travel for large groups. This particular one is a 4-wheel drive British Bedford army truck, painted orange, that is carrying twenty passengers and one driver-mechanic-leader. The group is composed of 5 Brit­ish, 5 Swiss, 4 Dutch, 2 German, 3 New Zealanders, one Australian and a British driver. 

The driver is making his first trans-Africa trip after several years of driving a “lorry” around South America.  Driving a Bedford army truck has its advantages and disadvantages.   Spare parts are readily available as armies are fairly common in Africa.   Disadvantages: even with the bright colors, they have been shot at in Zimbabwe and Zambia. In fact the tourists who were kidnapped in Zimbabwe last year (last month, that is) were on an Encounter Overland tour.  This group is taking four months to drive from London to Cape Town, cost £1600[1], not counting air fare back to London or visas.  The vehicle is very well equipped and is giving us ideas for our future overland vehicle (?!)  The tents and most baggage are carried in a trailer painted the same orange color.

Encounter Overland group on its way from London to Capetown.

The group helped to liven up our otherwise sedentary New Year’s Eve.  They were noisy, but with good, clean humor. A group of them climbed into the truck and were synthesizing their own band music.  We could hear one trumpet among the animal noises.  However when we went over to socialize, the trumpet turned out to be a diesel hose with a funnel stuck in one end. When we left them at midnight, they were toasting the queen and building human pyramids.

Helena and I spent most of the night tending a small bonfire and thinking of everybody we knew who was also entering the New Year. Ah yes, not completely devoid of propriety, we celebrated the occasion with a meal of rice and black-eyed peas.  We briefly looked for “hog jowl” but after all, this is a major capital of Muslim faith.

Kano, Nigeria, Saturday. 1st January, 1983

(HELENA)  I actually wrote the date right the first time! We continued celebrating with rice and beans at noon and the delicious Kano bread at other meals. This is the first time since Morocco that we have had anything except French white bread, not that that has kept me from eating a lot!  This is in loaves, has some whole wheat or bran and tastes a little cinna­mony. Terribly good!

The harmattan continued to blow (cold and dusty), so it felt good to stay in the cozy lounge writing and reading. We even watched a little television while we cooked more beans for supper.

Yesterday Al Hadji (a lot of the men around here have that title which means they have made the pilgrimage to Mecca) the manager, made a point of inviting everybody to the New Year’s party today. We had heard from a British couple (young, apparently here for a good while to work in construction, either in Kano or in Lagos) that they had also had an enjoyable Christmas party, so Dan and I really looked forward to this. It was to be at 20:00, but Dan and I started hanging around with a gleam in our eye[2] at 18:00. We had a bite of supper just in case it took a long time to get the party going.

At first several of the “Encounter Overlanders” and the French couple hung out with us. Then several of Al Hadji’s friends arrived. Apparently there was a supper call for the “Encount­er” people, so for a good while I was the only woman and Dan and I the only foreigners in the room with 20 local men, all in robes and caps. They had everything all set out quite early (cold drinks and plates covered with red paper napkins) so Dan and I waited rather impatiently for things to start.  Finally at 20:20 three white visiting firemen arrived and Al Hhadji started with a little speech of welcome. Then the man in charge of the Kano State Tourism spoke.  They turned on the loud disco music, invited us all to dance, and started handing out cakes and cookies.  I do not know about Dan, but I very valiantly made up for all the goodies we did not have at Christmas. It was fun to do a bit of dancing, and I naturally thought back to some of the dancing we did a year ago in San Borja, Bolivia.  Some of the music was even the same!

I am afraid we found it hilarious to see the very dignified and correct Al Hadji and some of his friends dancing up a storm with the European women.  There were only two Nigerian women there and, although one of them was the best dancer there, they were mainly there to help serve.  The men were all boogying in long Muslim robes and hats!

Borrowed from drawingcroquis.blogspot.co (couldn’t find a good link).

After a while they got out a guitar and asked people to play.  One man played a bit, but could not remember his song. After a lot of hesitation, I actually offered to play for them. At least they all listened to our cuequita[3].

I thought the party was about over_, but no.  At about 22:00 the television camera arrived.  They filmed some of the dancing, and then I left. Dan says that after I left, Al Hadji and the tourism man gave their speeches over again for the benefit of the camera.  Then they asked Paul (the driver of the Bedford truck) to give his opinion of the new KANO STATE TOURIST CAMP.  He is quite a character, and tonight he looked very classy in a three-piece suit topped by a very jaunty, VERY  British-looking cap.  He said it was a nice place, but they might add a few things (like a barbecue) to make it even better.  They really are making an effort to promote this place. I just hope they will keep up the good work.

(DAN) On top of Paul’s speech he also played a piece on his diesel hose horn and sang an English folk song with one finger in his ear “so he could not hear himself sing”. Very British![4]             

Among the goodies they served us were ample portions of broasted chicken which we have since learned run about $12.40 per chicken.  In other words somebody is subsidizing the tourist camp heavily to get it going. The lights were just dim enough for Helena and me to put away a plate of peanuts in a bag we carry for such situations. All in all, the party had a unique atmosphere. When the men were giving their speeches, both the stereo and the TV were on medium volume, one with disco and the other with traditional Nigerian music.

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[1] A similar trip is offered today Cairo to Capetown for just under £5000.  Or Istanbul to Beijing for about the same price.

[2]It is hard for me imagine Helena with a gleam in her eye over a party, but SHE says she had one…

[3] Bolivian folk rhythm

[4] Having subsequently studied in Britain, and married a Scot, I now suspect that Paul was a former military person, and that his behavior was probably a holdover from their military high jinks.