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| No expense spared on the high tech security on our front door. |
Its very hard to know whether its dangerous to live here or not. On our first night in our short term accommodation, I was horrified (rather than comforted) by the long iron bars lying next to the front door, which we heave into place every night to barricade ourselves in. Our local Chinese restaurant is taking the "barricading" to an extreme - the Chinese manager told us that he had been in Lagos for over a year and a half and had NEVER, thats right, NEVER left the building. He had only heard about the outside streets and places of interest from his restaurant goers. The guy hadn't even visited the local chinese market! But on last Sunday morning, I watched intently, as a little old Indian lady came out of the opposite house in our compound, and returned - alive - an hour later. So, I figured it was safe for me and Si to venture out of our walled house and into our compound streets. So we deeted ourselves up to the max, stuffed the necessary $60 dollars safety money into our pockets, and left the security of our house gates. It was like entering a new world - we encountered so many others taking a walk: Chinese, Brits, Nigerians...felt a bit sheepish for staying holed up for so long. Since then we have been out walking every evening...haven't yet built up the confidence to walk with sunglasses or a watch...but little steps right?
So, with our new found freedom, yesterday Si and I decided to walk over to the next compound to have lunch with a colleague from Si's work. We encountered no problems crossing our compound, walking along the road, and into the next compound, all of which took about 15mins. Pleased with ourselves, we rang the doorbell. Our hosts were HORRIFIED when they opened the door. Granted, we were more crumpled and sweaty than I had envisaged, and I was sporting a full afro after the 80% humidity had worked its magic. Our hosts couldn't believe we had walked, and refused to let us go home on our own at the end of lunch - they sent us home in their car with their driver. I didn't see what the big deal was, but thought I would heed their caution on a market visit with a Nigerian colleague this afternoon. I dressed down - jeans, t-shirt, trainers. I removed my watch, earrings and stuffed my phone, money and keys in my pocket, not daring to take a handbag. My colleague on the other hand, picked me up in a "pimp my ride" Honda Civic - complete with twin DVD screens in the passenger seats. He flashed a fancy watch, bling ring and new blackberry. We drove down to the Marina open market - a series of alleys connecting slap dash shops with corrugated iron awnings, got out the car, and walked. Was I hassled? Not a bit. I occasionally got a sideward glance, or a "hello English!" but nothing more. In fact, would you believe a shop owner came out to give me a bottle of coke when I was looking hot and bothered outside their stall, and wouldn't accept a penny in return for it. Just maybe the world has the wrong impression about Nigeria and its security issues. Well lets friggin hope so.
