Lost in translation

According to the Bradt Nigeria guide "English is the official language of Nigeria". English is also the official language of England, and my mother tongue...so why cant anyone understand me? And more disturbingly, I cant understand anyone else.

This comprehension gap has become very apparent over the last week, with disastrous consequences. It has led to us being driven (and then having to go round) the National Museum, when in fact we wanted to go to the Kingfisher club - a social sports club and bar. It has led to the current explosion of cucumbers in our fridge - I asked for 1, and got 1 kilo. And sadly, yesterday, it led to me handing out birthday presents in front of a crowd of 50 people I didnt know, and who quite frankly, didnt have a scooby who I was!

The event took place at my new office. The secretary grabbed me around 3pm and asked me if I wanted to go downstairs for some "fun"...naturally I accepted the offer, and followed her down to the canteen area - a huge rectangular out building with bright orange chairs and tables. I was greeted by 2 massive birthday cakes, and enough cameras to put Big Brother to shame. Immediately I was welcomed into a group hug with a bunch of people I didnt know, and posed for 5 minutes in front of the cakes for photos. The cakes were iced with "Happy Birthday Celebrants of November" and "Happy Birthday Celebrants of December".

After about 20 mins of general milling about, the meeting was called to order by a short, spectacled man in a red T-Shirt, who stood in front of a huge "Happy Birthday!" poster. All the birthday "celebrants" were called to the first 2 rows of the hall. I snuck to the back, but was called to my feet immediately to join in the group prayer. What followed next was an hour of dares, singing and "testimonials". We heard one celebrant's "testimonial" about his trip to London during the Volcanic Ash cloud, and how with God's Grace he managed to get to the meeting on time - this particular story was greeted with "Amens!" and "Hallelujahs!". The atmosphere was like that of an evangelical church, complete with gospel singers. I felt grounded by genuine thanks given for small things by the people in that hall. And so it was at that moment that I smiled to myself, and thought about how Im going to love working in Nigeria, with such warm hearted, enthusiastic people.

My thoughts were interrupted abruptly as a lady tapped me on the shoulder from the row behind. She whispered something, which I couldnt decipher (as usual), and so I just nodded and smiled. The next thing I knew, I was being introduced as a "Special Guest" and being called to the front to give out birthday presents!!! What made the whole experience worse, was that, like in all award ceremonies, a photographer was there to ensure he captured the moment of me handing out each gift on film.God only knows where those pictures will be posted. I can only imagine that when they are, everyones going to be asking who the foreign girl in the photo is!

The Colonel has saved me

This week I braved the outside world to visit 3 of Lagos' shopping centres. The first: "City Mall"
looked especially promising from the outside - a striking 2 storey white faced building, complete with classical roman pillars and armed guards patrolling the car park. It took me 40 minutes to cover the 2km distance with the help of our skilled driver Raman aka "The Mumbler" (we cant understand a word he says...and Ill be honest, I don't think he can understand us either). So When we finally arrived at City Mall, I was almost salivating with shopper excitement. Naturally, I asked Raman to pick me up in an hour, I figured I had his number just in case I needed longer...I walked in through those glass doors with a swing in my step, so you can imagine my horror when I was greeted by a number of empty glass store fronts, a couple of very tired looking homeware stores, and a pharmacy advertising herbal Viagra. It became clear very quickly that I was in fact the only shopper in the mall.

After pretending to be interested in the latest lampshades in Nigeria's answer to Homebase, I decided to give up the charade and call the driver, but as I headed towards the exit, a red facade caught my eye...could it be? Yes!! Slowly the Colonel's face came into view along with those three mesmerising letters that every student dreams of "KFC"...I brushed aside any concerns about hygiene, and tucked in to a finger licking good chicken burger (not quite a zinger, but Im not complaining). Im not even going to reveal the price...suffice to say its more expensive than London...and thankfully, I did not pay for it later in the bathroom...

My second mall trip took a whole day to get to (or what seemed like it) - out in the Lekki peninsula, on the island adjacent to Lagos Island (yes, Lagos is on an Island). The Palms Mall appeared like an oasis in the desert (literally, as it is surrounded by dusty construction work, and is linked to the main road by a sandy track which brought Snoop Doggy Dogg to mind), but once we got into the car park, I could have been at Bloomingdales.
Inside I found a teeming mall thronged by Nigerians, expats and Nandos!! And guess what? It really did taste like Nandos!

My final Mall experience was to "Silverbird" Mall - a surprising little Mall in Victoria Island.
It had lots of tacky plastic necklace/ fake sunglasses/ fake hair type shops, a clothing shop, with
Mango Jeans selling for the bargain price of £80, and a 5 screen cinema! Hubbie and I decided to have our cinema debut by seeing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and my ears are still ringing! The volume was cranked up so high to cover the screaming kids, rustling sweet packets and telephone calls (the guy next to Si concluded a 30min business deal) - but to be honest it didn't spoil the film- in fact I think I could get used to all the hub bub, because despite all of these distractions, the audience added an atmosphere that you would never get in London. When Ron tried to kiss Hermione, the guy next to me gave a deep, thigh slapping laugh. When Harry found his parent's grave, the audience collectively sighed ( "So sad!" a lady tutted). It actually felt like Id bonded with my fellow cinema goers during the film. Needless to say the communal love was all negated by the crush that ensued for the exit when it was time to leave.

Relocation, Relocation

We made it!! And our bags made it to Lagos too!! Sadly my first few hours in Lagos were spent passing through immigration at the speed of a snail as I had refused to copy my fellow passengers and run off the plane towards the passport control queue. Of course at the time, I had no idea why all the passengers, who had been so polite in London, suddenly turned into Yussein Bolt when the plane doors opened in Lagos.  It was only when I got to the horrendous foreign passports line that I realised the need. Note to self: must practice glamorous speed walking.

I am actually lucky to have made it to customs at all. I mention this, because on the way to the customs hall, me and my fellow passengers encountered the escalator of death. At first glance, this was a seemingly normal escalator, leading from the arrivals area down to the immigration hall. It was only when I got on to the escalator and saw the immigration queue at the bottom – ending right at the escalator finish, that I realised the impending disaster that was about to unfold. I was one of the lucky ones – I managed to leap off the escalator into a fat gentleman at the bottom – who cushioned my fall. The passenger with the Louis Vuitton luggage behind me was not so lucky. Thank God one of the 30 or so airport security staff looking busy doing nothing, had the sense to push the emergency stop button. Happy to say that I made it through the meticulous immigration process – it took 3 people to check my visa before I even got to the immigration desk – where it was checked all over again.

And so began my introduction to Lagos. You can imagine at this point, how dishevelled I looked. (Did I mention it was 30 degrees?). So when the man at the hotel greeted me with “You are very beautiful”, I could hardly suppress the giggles. This is the second time Ive received this greeting. The first time, I must admit, I was flattered by the - genuine –or so I thought- complement… Anyhow, having now unwittingly performed a sort of scientific experiment, I understand that “You are very beautiful” is the equivalent of “hello, pleased to meet you” or even worse is a sarcastic Nigerian slur. My dreams have been shattered.

Despite all of this, I braved the 80% humidity and inferno like heat yesterday to go house hunting. Suffice to say I did not look very beautiful as my hair took on afro like qualities despite my thorough GHD efforts in the morning. We had our very own Nigerian Kirsty, Phil, Phil, Phil and Phil show us around the best that Lagos has to offer (how can it take 5 people to show 2 people around a house??). The Nigerians have built palaces. I was in awe of the beautiful architecture, marble flooring, and digital bath tubs.  

Glad to say that hubbie and I traded that all in for a sea view, and fingers crossed should be moving into our new flat in January.

Until then, I am stuck in the hotel….with him out at work all day and me not able to physically leave the premises, what is a girl to do?

Packing Tips

Its a week to go before I officially leave London, and make Lagos my new home. I don't know whether to be excited or very scared. My mood fluctuates depending on the person I'm speaking to. Everyone - and I mean everyone, has a view on Nigeria. My best friend told me not to go. My Dad has flatly refused to come and visit, and a friend from school - a native Nigerian herself - just asked "Why??" and then laughed hysterically.

Why indeed? After years of living in London, my hubbie and I have been toying with the idea of moving abroad. I was dreaming of Singapore, Sydney, Tokyo...so when my husband shared a job description with the location of Lagos, I thought it was a joke. Ill be honest, Lagos doesn't fit on my list of top places to visit. I didn't even know which coast it was on (is it above the equator?). But here I am with a week to go, before I set off on my own African adventure!

So with no job, no house and no friends in Lagos Ive been doing some research. I have gleaned the following tips:

1. Take a cheap, battered suitcase which wont get stolen at the airport
2. Avon So Soft moisturizer doubles up as an effective mosquito repellent (is it the grease or the secret ingredient? Ill let you know...)
3. I cant get a dog in Nigeria as they are considered a local culinary delicacy. Hence said pooch may never make it home.
4. Always carry a decoy wallet for those occasions when the friendly police want to stop me for a chat
5. If all else fails, the British women’s society does cross stitch and coffee mornings

If anyone else has any (helpful) advice...feel free to throw it in.

I'm looking forward to keeping you all updated!