You can take the girl out of Glasgow . . . . . .

I miss the blunt, unpretentious, no shit attitude of most Scots.  Paris who?

Being Reckless

When we are young we jump into the pool whether we can swim or not.  We have no fear.  Either we swim or we drown.

Before the age of thirty important things begin to shape the rest of our lives.

The first is:
We become aware of ourselves and our own thinking.  We reach the age of reason.

The second is:
In our new found maturity we begin to think in a more adult way.  We become grown up.

Recklessness and risk are not compatible with age.  Risk becomes something which must be carefully considered.

Paul Arden

The Trap Door Theory

I meet new people all the time.  Traveling and living away from home forces you to be open and take opportunities to make connections and new friends as they come along.  The introduction of new people into your life can be very rewarding but it also comes with its emotional risks.  I like to think of everyone as having a trap door.

Yes, you read correctly.  This is a little theory I have about letting people into your life. 

We meet new people every day; we interact, talk, deal and make minor adjustments to ourselves and our lives daily.  Not all the people we come across will bring forward their trap door and many interactions will have no significant effect on us at all.

However, every so often, a person with a trap door comes along.  A person whom, should you fall into or step onto their trap door, will have an effect on your life in some significant way.  Once a door is open you can jump in, fall in or run in the other direction.  Whether you jump through with enthusiasm, fall clumsily, edge sideways with caution or slide uncontrollably, once in – the door closes and cannot be opened again for you.  No matter what happens, good or bad, you can’t go back.  If you walk away from the trap door then you will remain the same but never know what was in there.

Furthermore, each and every trap door changes you.  Whether a trap door represents friendship, love, lust, a means to an end or hate even; it’s going to change you in some way. 

Some trap doors are huge and easy to fall into; others are small and relatively easy to negotiate a choice with.

I see these trap doors in the image of my favourite childhood television programme – ‘The Trap Door’.  This probably goes a long way in explaining why I’m eternally single.  Ha ha. 

On a serious note – it is important to see these trap doors as opportunities.  Be wary and take some weapons with you but jump in feet first and enjoy the ride.  That is my philosophy from now on.

Moral Corruption

Nigeria is morally corrupt.  To try to explain the true depth of the corruption in this place to someone who has never visited Lagos, would be like describing Mozart’s 1785 Piano Concerto to someone who has never seen a piano.  This analogy is really too pretty to be used to describe the scheming, stinking hypocrisy I’m about to share with you but you get the picture.

I was naïve when I arrived at the security gate in Murtala Mohammed Airport the first time, I caught glimpses of the ‘I’m out for myself’ attitude as I meandered through my first month or two here.  I was able to forgive people for accepting bribes and paying bribes and forever changing prices because they were a means to an end in the context of Lagos living.  I forgave many sins because I thought poverty excused them.  People are poor and have no choice but to make the most of a situation in a country whose government gives back nothing was my tag line.

I have changed.  It is this acceptance and excuse conjuring towards corruption, permeating all levels of Nigerian society, which is EXACTLY the problem.  Everyone accepts day to day corruption and, although they may not like it they accept it; even when it is startlingly obvious and unfair.  It is the norm.

The parking attendant making an extra twenty pence by extorting a bribe from impatient drivers has the same attitude as the President who condones the ultimate sin of bribery in the oil, electricity and import/export industries – effectively keeping the fat cats fat and everyone else in poverty, darkness and desperation.  No one takes any responsibility; people bribe, accept bribes and pay bribes in every which way you can imagine.  A side effect of this is that everybody is suspicious, unforgiving and pessimistic towards others.

Individuals in Nigeria literally own billions of pounds; they make thousands every day that they are alive but do absolutely nothing to help the plight of starving villages, people living in days of darkness or the deaths of babies born into impoverished, devastated families.  The rich don’t care, and so the cycle continues all the way down the class ladder to the poorest people:  The Oga of an extremely poor fishing village uses a charitable donation to secure a water tank and DSTV aerial for his house only (the only house in the village might I add), the raffle prize ticket picker who only adds the names of his friends and family to the box, the facilities manager who on receiving a substantial dash from a happy contractor to share with his pitifully paid team – keeps it to himself.

There is no ‘for the greater good’, there is no charity and there is no way Nigeria can grow economically or socially to become the successful and powerful African nation it should be until Joe Blogs on the street makes a stand and takes responsibility for others as well as himself.

The politics of corruption are so truly fucked up here it is actually too depressing for words.  The underlying agendas and deceit are truly too sprawling and impenetrable to comprehend, especially as a foreigner.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rules in Nigeria.  You have to take every situation as it comes.  For example, I always give money to children if they tap on my car window but only small notes as I don’t want them to get beaten by their brothers and sisters for a big note.  Also I recently read about Aliko Dangote, the Nigerian cement magnate and billionaire.  He established a humanitarian foundation in 1993 and has helped many.

I am aware of the situation in Nigeria, as you can see from my rant BUT I’m regularly told I’m too naïve.  This is because instead of being pessimistic and hating, I refuse to change my attitude towards people here.  Everyone, in my eyes, has a chance to be good and straight and morally above the water line. 

I try to meet everyone with an open mind and I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  I take people seriously, I listen to peoples’ stories and I don’t immediately suspect ulterior motives.  I also don’t pay bribes (anymore), I don’t try to jump the queue at the airport and I don’t cut corners by flashing cash at people.  
 
Optimism, positive interactions and a stand against the ‘all about me’ indoctrination will make a difference eventually.

Phew . . . . . . . . . rant over.

Dawg Sitting

A couple I met here, Iain and Judie, got me very drunk one night and talked me into caring for their two dogs while they vacationed in Malaysia for a month.  I enthusiastically agreed and thought that staying in their handsome, old Victoria Island home would be much more fun than living in my pokey apartment.  I made all arrangements while under the influence of about a gallon of my favourite Shiraz.  

Despite waking the next day with a hint of regret I embraced the house swap.  I met the dogs and we were a match.  They have a large garden so don’t require much walking and the live in maid basically takes care of them.  I’m just around to keep them company.  I moved in one week ago and have been quite comfortable.  

The dogs are great and I feel like I have a couple of companions while completing my work in the evenings.  They laze around on ‘their’ couches most of the day and let me know when they need the loo, water, snacks etc.  I have also embraced the house.  I’ve been cooking more in the large, well-stocked kitchen – which makes a change to my student-esque fridge.  I had a successful dinner party and I’ve slept like a baby every night.  The house lacks a pool but I can nip back to my place for that at the weekends.

The house is an Addax Oil house so is very secure.  It’s gated and has a security office, radio link to the company and large, reinforced security doors externally and internally.  It’s strange though that I feel safer in my wee place, which has less security but more people around generally.  If I lived in the house permanently I think I would end up feeling rather stranded, as if on my own little island perhaps.  It makes me wonder if this is the experience of other expats in Lagos.

Tune In, Tune Out

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20120508-why-your-brain-loves-to-tune-out

Amazing little experiment and article which makes me feel like like I have a turbo charged, evolutionary miracle in my head.  I must remember to eat more oily fish - keep the old thing turning.

114 Years Young

I saw this video and couldn’t decide if I was horrified or happy for the one hundred and fourteen year old Mrs Okawa. 

I’m not a person who plans ahead and certainly don’t think about the days when I may not have my own teeth or bladder control but this story actually sent flutterings of fear around my nerve endings.
 

Nobody wants to die but is there a time to go?  Is it better to pop off before old age becomes senility and before you become unable to stop your face caving in on itself?  

My Grandfather died recently at the ripe old age of ninety two.  He was so ready to go and was actually slightly pissed off when he opened his eyes and realised he was still in his house.  Not because he was depressed or suicidal; just because he was done.  His body was used up and he had lived a full life.  He was content and didn’t want to be a burden on anyone anymore.  

Others would say life is precious.  So even when your face looks like a prune and you practically cough your own lungs up every morning; every breath should be appreciated.

This video has reminded me that I make my own world and that every day free of incontinence, receding gums, crinkly skin and a hunchback is one worth appreciating and making the most of.  Whether I make it to tomorrow or until I’m one hundred I will be happy!

Weddings - Lagos Styleeee

I was invited to my colleague Sarah’s wedding last weekend.  She is the admin assistant at work and  told me that if I didn’t come to her service she wouldn’t do any favours for me e.g. filing or telephone calls or letters!  She was joking but had a serious glint in her eye when she said this! So I thought I had better make the effort.

Effort it was!  The venue was a two hour drive away and I was told to add anything from one to four hours onto that estimation to account for the hectic, abysmal Lagos traffic.  This didn’t amuse me. Also at Nigerian weddings everybody wears the same material, chosen by the bride and groom.  Sarah’s theme was purple and silver and she made available her choice of fabric for her guest to buy.  Of course I didn’t get to her in time and the material had run out.  Soooooo I donned the one purplish dress I could find in my wardrobe and set off on the dusty road.

I brought supplies such as magazines, water, tea in a flask, my Ipod and a pillow.  Luckily they were not required.  The journey took less than two hours and I ended up giving three other people a ride to the ceremony.  The journey was quite entertaining; we sang along to Lauren Hill’s Jesus music and chatted about school and other things.  As we got further and further out of town, the roads got worse and we passed through various villages and small towns.  It got more rural and run down.  Surprisingly, people seemed happier and more laid back than in Ikoyi and Lagos. 

We paused in traffic at a roundabout upon which a large statue had been erected.  I craned to catch a glimpse of who it might have been.  All of a sudden two large hands and a shouting face slammed and pressed against the passenger window.  A man was shouting but smiling at me.  I almost hit the roof with fright.  The man was half begging, half trying to tell me about the statue I think.  His friends joined him and quickly a small entourage formed around the car.  Thankfully the traffic moved just as they started taking photographs with camera phones.  I was reminded that it is still pretty unusual for ‘oyibos’ or white folk to be out and about generally in the more rural parts in and around Lagos.  I was a novelty.

Eventually we pulled up outside Sarah’s chosen church.  Many people had made it from school which was lovely.  We took photos and then went into the church.  It was a large hall with a stage rather than a pew or pulpit and there were huge speakers everywhere.  Singers sang gospel and photographers swarmed the crowd.  I stood out so was snapped a million times without the grace of any warning.  Blinded by the lights and slightly deafened by the hymns, eventually, we all sat and the service began.

It was upbeat and joyful and it was lovely to see Sarah and her husband beam at each other all the way through the ceremony.  They were clearly so in love and excited to be committing to each other.  The service was religious but still very different to any church wedding I have ever been to in the UK.  There was lots of advice given to the couple about how to look after each other in the bedroom and how to get the family started; totally shocking to me but HIGHLY amusing.  I stifled my giggles until outside the church, where everyone was having a laugh about it.  Apparently that is normal but this pastor had taken it quite far.  We all agreed advising a woman about what to wear to bed was unnecessary but hilarious.

The day continued at a hall near the church.  We danced, sang and listened to some more pastors say their thing.  We danced Sarah into the hall and the celebration was in full swing.  Unfortunately the lack of a toilet and the mounting traffic on the road home meant my party and I left rather early and missed the food.  Overall the experience was great but the next Nigerian wedding I go to will be the type you need a golden ticket to get in to and are given a digital camera as a wedding favour!