With a plan to intersperse my journey with reading, I had not been able to bring along books from Kano. I called a bookshop late Friday afternoon and arranged to pick one Saturday morning. Unfortunately, they do not open early on Weekend but I made a case until they yielded.
We moved on from the bookshop. The drive to Abuja airport was long, which was a surprise. We cruised through suburbs and the whimsical weathers.
I went through the check-in at the airport, deposited my luggage and walked up the departure lounge for the trip to Lagos. The view from the sky was spectacular, tiny human and other creatures sharing spaces with each other.
The plane landed around 12:35pm. The crowd disembarked, walked to the baggage claim area. Early that morning I communicated my itinerary to my Lagos host. My phone showed a missed call from him. I called back to know the name of my destination.
I had never been to Lagos, so I observed what people did outside the arrival hall. For a while I ignored the taxi drivers that approached me. I acted in a way not to give away myself to the predators.
As this man left, one other came, and hovered around. I ignored them all. But the second man persisted. He came back and quoted a price that the last man asked for. Two people on the same price sounded an honest deal.
I gave in to the man, feeling guilty however for not picking the first.
Before he helped carry my bags he walked back and discussed briefly with a man. I noticed it was the last man. I became suspicious, suspicious because it seemed they jointly operated one car. They go out hunting, once they have a kill, they come back and negotiate a deal with the original car owner, characteristic racketeering in the Nigerian black market. However, I had a sense there’re people who were independently operating.
These people have apparently had a network, a clique that they belong. There must be a difference in how they charge.
Buyer remorse washed over me instantly for my selection. I should have chosen the Baba who approached me the first instance. With the determined look on his face, he seemed more honest, and looked like someone who operated his own car.
At the checkout in the parking lot, the driver fumbled and patted his pocket, the glove compartment and turned abruptly to me to say I should pay the 600 naira out of the money he charged me.
No sooner than we eased out of the airport he launched into an anguished chatter about the heavy layers of exploitation people like him endure. Didn’t I see, just for parking he had to pay 600 naira? The car owner was waiting for him at the end of the day. There was association levy, in addition to the fuel they purchased at exorbitant price. It’s possible for him to spend a day with no enough passengers to cover that.
He rattled and rattled until I almost pitied him. But I also told him this is how life is, although this is not how it should be.
We agreed at 6000 naira. I paid four thousand naira from Abuja to airport. I didn’t have a sense of the distance for my Lagos destination. And the man, though it was Saturday, complained the likely of being stuck in the traffic. He could spend hours in the traffic, he said, and might not get a passenger on the return trip to airport. Compared to Abuja, if 6000 naira was what he asked for the bitter reasons he served made the price justifiable.
The rattling was soon swapped with a casual chatter. So far, I hadn’t seen any of the heavy traffic. The car slowed down, he stopped the engine and said we had arrived. Six thousand naira for such a short distance was a cheat. Nonetheless, I was grateful for the journey mercies! Grateful, this was nothing compared to the oceans I crossed to get here.
I called my friend and told him we arrived. Where was he, I couldn’t see him. How would he stay back and wouldn’t come out until I arrived? He’s inconsiderate. He should be out ahead of my arrival. My friend insisted that he had since been out on the road.
Since I was new here, I thought it best to give the phone to driver to talk to him.
The driver returned the phone and demanded I should increase the money, forfeiting the pact that bound us when I told him my destination.
He insisted I should add him money. He brought out a price list to show me the amount they charge for each shuttle around Lagos. He ran his hand over the paper, he scanned his eyes to no avail. Finally, he gave me the paper to help him locate my destination. For real? How for a person who wrote the paper himself failed to locate a destination could possibly turn to a stranger who couldn’t even pronounce the wordings? It didn’t occur to me at the moment this was ruse and fake confusion.
He would drop me here, he said, I could take another car or acaba to conclude the shuttle. I was not wholly tidied up. Naturally, this presented a problem. I didn’t want any of my belongings, small as they were, to go through round of unnecessary movements.
From his dubious gesture at the parking lot to his verbalizing about exploitation and finally this confusion, this man was decidedly acting on a passenger-stranger psychology, a choreographed performance they perfected for their victims. No passenger would like juggling and transferring his things from one vehicle to another in the middle of the road, especially as two of my bags containing breakable things were open.
I clearly saw the trick, but I was willing to take the bait.
I agreed to add two thousand naira on top of the money, making it eight thousand naira. We arrived my actual destination in less than 4 minutes.
My friend was standing where he said he was. The car parked. Goni, an ABU friend eased into the back seat. We zoomed in into another street that led to Goni’s compound.
The few cash on me was for essential things I would buy: pen, computer mouse, some drugs and toiletries. The driver agreed to accept a transfer. I sent him 8,000 naira, forgetting that he owed me one thousand naira at the parking lot.
I was seething with rage. Unabashedly, he collected my number and said he’d come pick me up the next day for the airport. I was numbed and amused by the total blindness to his behavior.
The next day, he would get the taste of his own medicine.
Madison, WI
No one escapes Lagos' first experience.
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