Nigeria is a vast land of profound contrasts – of both conflicting and complementary cultures, religions, and perspectives. It’s a country of enormous wealth and choking poverty, of green, vibrant and breathtaking scenery and of monotonous expanses of rusted, dilapidated, but atmospheric cityscapes. It was here that I emerged from the comfortable, safe and modern host-family’s home into a world where the unyielding warmth, friendliness and affection of the locals was to be experienced in a strange juxtaposition with police gun barrels which were often pointed in the direction of an unruly driver who was foolhardy enough to question the inevitable bribe.
So it’s extremely difficult to put into words a true, honest and objective description of this indefinable arena of culture chaos.
The whole experience almost feels like a surreal dream – one of those dreams that leave you wondering about them long after you’ve woken up as you struggle to make sense of it.
My first day there was like as slap in the face to be honest – to begin with; ‘normal’ eurocentric rules of ‘urban life’ do not apply here. In fact the city is non-existent as far as our understanding of cities go. What I mean by that is that there are no ‘city centers’ CBDs, shopping centers, information centers, amenities, any ‘shops’ at all, parks, regulated transport systems or any form of organized infrastructure are evident. What is evident, however, is an expanse of red rusty rooftops, which shield the one-story dwellings of the city’s 2.5 million inhabitants. These inhabitants are, for the most part, sustained in street-economics: buying and selling tit bits, driving taxis or ‘okada’ (motorbike taxis – which were a big hit with me), selling foodstuffs in the markets or ready-to-go/chop food on the street. Such items include fruit-apples oranges, bananas, coconuts etc, meat pies, doughnuts, buns and a deep-fried concoction of pureed beans known locally as muin muin. It is for this reason that Ibadan has been described by some travel writers as being a series of conglomerated villages rather than a city as such.
No official maps exist of this city nor have any bus routes emerged. Rather, the skill of finding your way around town is developed by means of honed intuition as to your whereabouts in relation to which direction you want to go and then grabbing a shared taxi (of which 2 passengers are crammed into the front passenger seat to allow for a total of 5 passengers) or an equally tight ‘bush taxi’ which is, in effect, a beat up minibus. But this is made all the easier by the people here who are ever delighted to help. You merely think your destination and momentarily you will have 20 new best friends vying for the opportunity to help an ‘oyinbo’ (white person).
Let me explain the ‘Oyinbo’. Oyinbo is the term of greeting used by any and EVERY Nigerian towards a white person as that is precisely it’s translation: white person. There are virtually NO tourists here so when they meet us on those few occasions it’s undoubtedly a high octane surprise. The term ‘Oyinbo’ is more akin to an “oh my god” you’d hear as a statement of surprise. It doesn’t emanate animosity but rather is meant as a “welcome”, which indeed is the next greeting that usually follows. Everyone wants to shake our hands and engage us in conversation and everyone is infectiously welcoming. It is this open-hearted attitude towards us that makes me feel so remorseful about the fate that befalls Nigerians once they set foot on ours, or any western, soil for that matter. In Ireland the term ‘black man’ does not have the same friendly and welcoming connotations as ‘oyinbo’. They are used in complete contrast to each other in fact and that’s sad.
The countryside is inevitably more navigable and pleasant. Ten minutes drive outside the city limits will have you careering through lush jungle countryside, passing villagers on the road who have emerged from the depths of the jungle from god knows where in an often vain attempt to sell their wares to passing vehicles. Their ‘wares’ consist of packaged ‘sausage rolls’, soft drinks and corn on the cob. Going to the countryside is both literally and metaphorically a breath of fresh air. I visited some rural villages on various field trips with the Rural Development Department at work on which we provided workshops on sustainable development of agriculture, good governance and democracy and self-empowerment. The welcome and hospitality displayed by the villagers was no different to the welcome I received elsewhere – exceptional!
Other places I’ve visited were Oshogbo – where another volunteer was stationed, Ileshe – a spectacularly beautiful area where we bathed in luscious waterfalls and slogged our backsides off (well me at least!) rock climbing in search of other hidden waterfalls. We also visited another ‘city’ - Ife- a culturally important town to the north of Ibadan where we visited the ‘Oba’s” palace. The Oba of any region is its King. Kings operate side-by-side with the ‘democratically-elected’ politicians and are a remnant of the traditional Yoruba culture. In many instances the Kings and chiefs of any given region yield more power, influence and are more revered than the politicians who are seen as not much more than power-and-money-hungry fraudsters by the very people who elected them.
For instance, while visiting the other Irish volunteer in Oshogbo, we were invited to the Governor of Osun state’s daughter’s TENTH BIRTHDAY. It was an extremely lavish and flamboyant affair, which began on Saturday morning and undoubtedly continued into the wee hours. Food, drinks, music and guests abound. I was subsequently informed that the same Governor has been having problems paying his staff’s salaries. Not difficult to see why, when they secrete such amounts of money for their own personal expenditure. Such appears to be the general characterization of many of the countries politicians. I often listened to my co-workers lament the state of the country’s governance albeit with an undeniable air of hope for the future.
I once attended a meeting at work, which was also attended by some local politicians and dignitaries. The topic - Impeachment – is a topical and serious issue in Africa. Acts of Impeachment, in Nigeria, have occurred in their hundreds since the inception of the country’s current constitution in the 70s. Such discussions were regularly conducted by the ‘Good Governance and Democracy’ Department in my organization – JDPC (Justice Development and Peace Commission) in a constructive attempt to make politics more accessible and transparent and to give ordinary citizens the opportunity to question their political representatives in person in an informal setting.
Such informative discussions were also conducted by the Media Department at JDPC on a weekly slot at the local radio station, which had listeners calling, and texting their contributions to the debates in their droves. This was, for me, a tangible testament as to extent to which Nigerians do care about the current political climate regardless of the fact that this concern may seldom come to fruition as they are disappointed by their corrupt politicians again and again.
The most interesting and awe-inspiring place we visited was Northern Nigeria. Myself and two other volunteers decided to head north in search of adventure and a taste of the culturally-distictive Islamic North. We were not disappointed. We traveled to Kano, Kaduna and Zaria where we witnessed the truly spectacular Friday prayer at the central Mosque in Kano (one of the other volunteers even got to partake in the ceremony). In Kaduna we watched, and took part in an ethnic Hausa drama and music performance and in Zaria we were escorted on a guided tour of the Emir’s Palace. We feasted on Kilishi and meat pies, clothed ourselves in headscarves, traveled by motorbike, visited camels and die pits, indulged in mountain top city vistas and even spent a night sleeping on a bus that was held up at a dusty road side bus park courtesy of ‘armed bandits’ further ahead on the road. It simply was unforgettable.
Finally, I also visited Lagos, which was a completely different experience. This is where I sampled the opposite end of the spectrum of Nigerian life – the ‘super rich’. Here my host brother treated me and some other volunteers to a private beach party on a private island in our own private beach house complete with private pool. It was definitely the most extravagant party I’ve ever attended or am likely to attend anytime soon. But it was incredible, for one day at least. It was definitely enlightening to experience that other extreme facet of the Nigerian ‘lifestyle’.
Experiences like my Lagos extravaganza do, however, contribute to a certain cynicism of development work in a country like Nigeria where developments appear stagnant if not backwards. I came here to work to improve the state of the human rights system here but daily I either witnessed human rights deficiencies or I heard about them from others and my reaction began to imitate that of the locals – shake my head in disappointment but ultimately remind myself that ‘this is Nigeria – this is how it’s done here’ which I never thought I would ever hear myself say. It’s not a sentiment of apathy in the slightest but rather a resignation that, at least for the foreseeable future, this is how the situation is and is likely to remain.
For instance, many wealthier Nigerian families benefit from a practice which many of us here in Ireland would classify as a form of child labour. I was informed at work how this system of child labour operates. The parents inform an agent of the availability of their child for domestic labour, the agent supplies the child to various households and the parents receive a monthly sum for the duration of the child’s occupation. This occupation could begin as early as 6/7 and last until the girl is 20. Often, these girls may have been treated poorly in their own respective homes and may hail from appalling environments so some argue that their fate in their new homes is far and above anything they could ever aspire to otherwise. But I’m a firm believer in the necessity of parental nurturing without which the development of these girls is stunted. But perhaps I’m just fortunate enough never to have been in such a position and as such I don’t have and authority to judge. But it is the unfortunate consensus that there is nothing wrong with this practice, which can leave you exasperated.
Furthermore my organization – JDPC - employs a department devoted to assisting prisoners. It was this Department that I was intended to work with. It provided counseling, advice, provisions and spiritual services for the prisoners of Agodi prison, Ibadan, some of whom have been held in custody for over 10 years before their case was even brought to trial!!!
However on my first visit to the prison I was informed that I would not be permitted to enter the prison without clearing from a higher authority in Abuja. This, I was further informed, was unlikely. The crux of the matter apparently was that I was white and as such, likely to be and informant or spy for a human rights agency such as Amnesty. This, understandably, would have spelled unwanted interference and so I was obliged to step away from the plight of the prisoners and turn my hand to other issues JDPC dealt with. However, I was later presented with the opportunity to assist the prisoners from another angle: through the legal team. I worked with the legal team as they researched their case work and accompanied them to the courts as they defended these prisoners and ensured that some received the justice they were previously denied for many years. This was a hugely rewarding task.
So, like anything else it must be remembered that while you cannot alleviate all the problems of the world, you can always do something towards assisting individual cases. It can be something as simple a giving a forgotten child your love and attention everyday or contributing financially to their own personal advancement in the future perhaps. So too for the prisoners.
It is these baby steps which are so fundamental here and it’s the Tesco consensus of ‘every little helps’ which prevails whether you can visibly witness any results or not.
But let me just say that accompanying these negatives are an bountiful supply of positive aspects; The interminable warmth and friendliness of the people, the readiness of goods (once you get used to the lack of ‘shops’) the openness of people towards the 'foreigner' despite what their history has endured and the absolute ease of accessibility here. I think it is this, which makes it so difficult for an outsider to comprehend Nigeria in the early stages of their visit. This incidence of corruption (which is essentially highly individualistic in nature) is often is executed by the same people who exhibit much of the region’s great aspects – its warmth, friendliness, welcoming hospitality (which exhibit Nigeria’s characteristic emphasis on all things communal). It’s a difficult concept to grasp: here is a land where the meek and gentle flounder. One needs to be tough, foolhardy and determined should they harbor any hopes whatsoever of success. But as it’s an extremely Religious (either Christian or Muslim) -orientated culture, the whole ‘love your neighbour’ attitude and common courtesy to all still prevails here hand in hand with its abruptness. For example I frequently hear my fellow colleagues roaring at each other and barking immediately following morning prayers and hymns. In the beginning I thought they were fighting but I soon learned this is just their means of communicating in a debate – (every debate or discussion here is heated but not necessarily aggressive.)
And so, in any description of Nigeria, the author must NOT omit a mention of Religion here. Otherwise they have failed to describe an aspect of Nigeria so fundamental to its composition that it would be a different nation without it. Ok, this is complicated. Religion here is a commodity – a badge of identity worn loudly and proudly by every Nigerian– you are either Christian or Muslim and nothing exists in between. (Traditional Yoruba God worship – Voodoo etc still exists in smaller factions but hand in hand with Christianity). Every second 'building' here is a prayer house, a church or a mosque and the name of most businesses have religious connotations - God's Will Hairdressers, Holy Spirit Stores even huge billboards promoting one church or another - selling religion - you get the idea.
Church services can last anywhere between two and four hours and are always highly charged, highly entertaining and flamboyant affairs.
At various points throughout the service, the congregation partake in numerous ‘money-giving’ marches - maybe up to 10 in the one service alone where some family or other marches along the pews for various reasons – birthdays, thanksgivings, anniversaries – collecting huge amounts of money from their fellow worshipers. This money is then handed over to ‘the church’ – the pastors here are extremely wealthy men – akin to mafia bosses in their attire! So you can imagine what goes on. It seems even religion here is also pervious to the tentacles of Nigerian corruption.
In Ibadan Muslims and Christians live peacefully side-by-side. In the west Christianity prevails while in the north Islam prevails but not in a conflicting manner. Both areas are safe for travelers of either region – the only area that is out of bounds to us is the Niger Delta region where white oil workers are regularly abducted for ransom purposes. Having said that none have ever been killed or mal treated and most times the abduction will only last a day or two.
As for work, I’m thoroughly enjoyed it - not really a huge amount of tangible work for me to do but I learned a vast amount – politically, socially and legally. Although I didn’t get to pursue the work that was originally intended for me, I was giving the opportunity to work with all the other Departments as a result I gained more wide-ranging experience. I worked with the Rural Development Department, the Legal Department, the Good Governance Dept and the Media Department. I traveled to rural villages to conduct workshops on sustainable crop harvesting and to schools to present short films on Christian-Islamic relations and the dangers of Illegal Immigration. I oversaw the broadcasting of the weekly discussion forum radio shows and I assisted the legal team in their research before accompanying them to the courts to witness Nigerian justice in action. I was there when rural dwellers established their own units of local governance in a display of self-development and I visited a bore hole and water tower that was recently erected in one village thanks to support from JDPC. It really was a truly uplifting experience working with such a worthwhile organization that produced tangible and visible developments in a region where such developments are unfortunately few and far between. The other workers all doted on me and even christened me with a traditional Yoruba name - 'Omobowale Aduke’ which means 'our child has returned' and ‘the one that everyone loves’. This is undoubtedly a result of my constant, if sometimes laughable attempts at speaking in Yoruba with them and trying my hand at learning and singing Yoruba songs – my ‘performing monkey’ routine. They were all so surprised and amused by it.
I absolutely loved my time in Nigeria. It was difficult and challenging but incredibly rewarding and satisfying and it has had a huge influence on me. The friends I’ve made there and the things I’ve learned will, I’m sure, remain with me my whole life. I’ve traveled to incredible places and witnessed awe-inspiring events there, sampled its culinary delights and grown to understand its diverse range of cultures. In the words of many of my Nigerian friends: ‘If you can make it in Nigeria, you can make it anywhere’ and that, I suppose, is an achievement not to be sniffed at.
