The Ferret

22 August 2008, Friday

I’m still seething from my journey from Abuja to Lagos. Again I came by ABC Transport Service after swearing never ever to travel by them again. Forced by circumstances – too much baggage – I couldn’t take the smaller faster shuttle busses. Much less travel by air as my cousin was with me.

ABC is rotten. I hate when Nigerian businesses boast about being the best in Africa and other stupid things along that line when they can’t even get the simple things right?

I was cursing them all through my trip. Am sure other passengers had never seen a bitterer woman than me today. Let me tell you why.

You see, I was the first to arrive at their station, before 5.30am I was already waiting. With seven bags in toe I wanted to avoid the hassle of loading up my bags in the coach. The porters didn’t start arriving until past six even though the departure time on the ticket read 6.30am. After showing up late they started loading the bus going to Port Harcourt first. Fair enough.

But because they were disorganized when they started loading the Lagos bus the situation soon became chaotic. With people pushing, and shoving and trampling over bags and begging the porters to weigh and tag their luggage so they could proceed to embark. Those who were willing to give them a token fee were hurried while the rest of us who were there earlier were made to wait. Then came the real shocker. While they were tagging the bags we were informed us that no one is allowed to carry any bag into the coach. Only wallets and cell phones were allowed. Women were ordered to part with their handbags and those who had laptops started sweating on the nose. Everything was dumped into the hanger, regardless of the contents of individual bags and whether or not they contained fragile items. When we protested the porter loading up the bags told us it was their way or no way at all. Meanwhile the driver was revving up the engine, as if he would take off any moment, further aggravating the already panicky situation.

The idiot then had the audacity to ask me to pay two hundred naira just to load my stuff into the coach. I told him to piss off because I already paid six hundred for ‘excess luggage’. When I started loading my stuff in myself, he unloaded them again. At this point I was about to explode. It was only after I showed him the receipt for the payment that he started putting my stuff in.

 As if the humiliation wasn’t enough, we were all lined up and patted down like criminals! I can still feel the woman’s hands going over my breasts and patting my buttocks and inner thighs. You only hear about shit like that in airports!

 They claim to be doing it for our safety. Yet despite their extreme precautions, even without being a criminal I could still think of more than one way to sneak weapons into the coach.

My grievances with ABC are as follows:

1.       Why weren’t we informed of the new regulation when we purchased our tickets? They just sprung it on us at the last minute and their staffs were exceptionally rude in implementing it.

2.       Why isn’t the company ensuring the policy of not paying porters is properly implemented? Because I refused to pay them, they refused to help me with my luggage. I was left slugging four heavy bags about. Shit. My left shoulder was almost dislocated!

3.       Whatever happened to keeping time? The bus departed an hour later than scheduled with no apologies.

 4.       Their toilet was a mess. Whenever I pressed the flush instead of clean water out came recycled piss. Coupled with fumes from the heat of the coach it was offensively intoxicating!

 5.       Did I mention their staffs are extremely rude? Both driver and steward. I actually heard the steward shouting at an old man to bend down and crawl through the baggage hanger in search of his baggage when we stopped over at Ibadan. I myself was dislodged on the MAIN ROAD!!! On the busy OJOTA ROAD IN LAGOS ON AN EVENING FOR FUCKS SAKE! Cars were wheezing by as I struggled to gather my things on the curb.

I’ve sworn many times that travelling with ABC would be the last time I travelled with them. This time, I mean it! Nothing will ever make me go by them again.

Bastards!

Tried complaining on their website. www.abctransportservice.com  All I got was a stupid error message.

In less than eight hours I’ll be on my way to Lagos. I’ve decided, despite my intense hatred for that place, that I’ll just have to make it work. Like the millions of Nigerians who migrate there yearly in search of a better life, I too am setting out with a big dream and hopes that some day I’ll taste success. I’m swallowing my words about Lagos being a suckers paradise. I am migrating out of necessity, not because I don’t think I can only be successful there.

It all seems rather sudden, I know… but I realize I have to do something drastic. I need to push myself to the zenith; give my business all I’ve got so that at the end of the day I can say to myself; this is what I have accomplished.

I couldn’t stay on here in Abuja. Firstly because I’m sick of staying at my parents, even though they’ve been very accomodating. Secondly, when M returns he’s going to be based in Lagos. I see no sense in me settling down here and then being yanked away back to Lagos. Better start getting used to it now so that when that time comes we’ll be operating on the same frequency as opposed to me feeling bitter about the move and resenting him for loving Lagos so much.

Another reason why I haven’t been happy about Lagos was because the environment is not condusive physically and psychologically. However, I’m going with strong sense of purpose, so that trumps it. I’ll consider it part of the challenge.

Lastly, I thought my presense there would inconvenience my MIL. Now that I know she’s adamant that it’s only ‘proper’ for me to be in my husband’s place, I’m so happy about being a potential pest. If she wants me there, she’ll have me there. ALL of me and some more! Hahaha!

I’m a woman with a mission. I have goals that I have to achieve before the year runs out… which reminds me; the first thing I need to do when I get to Lagos is write them down…. and also to stop blogging with IE because he’s going to be using it too.

I might not be blogging for a while. Not just because of the new VisaSurf internet provider that doesn’t seem to be working. When you shell out more than 30K you expect to start browsing once you’re connected to the network, but not in this case. I’ll take it up with their Lagos branch if it still doesn’t work there. I would have gone with Starcomms, but when a company’s office that was previously packed full with customers suddenly becomes empty, you can’t be sane to be in too much of a hurry to purchase their products.

I’m so over the moon about seeing him again; I’ve been having wicked thoughts all week!

It’s been a really hectic week. Despite my tired ankles and puffy eyes I’m incredibly gratified. I go to bed each night fagged out but with a fat smile on my face knowing I have something to look forward to in the morning.

My dress making lessons are coming along swell. Today I cut my first skirt and blouse. I was supposed to start sewing right away, but I’ve put it off till tomorrow. I’ll wake up to it and, hopefully, be able to finish it before the end of the day without making tones of mistakes. Maybe I’ll put up a picture when I’m through. If my internet connection will allow me.

When I’m through with learning the basics I plan to enroll in a fashion institute to learn designing, pattern making, etc.

***

I checked out this month’s edition of True Love, like Jan suggested. And I must say I’m impressed with how far Ghana has come in tackling the water sachet menace. Actually, it was from there I first came across the idea while browsing. I started out knitting with used plastic bags, but it was a bit cumbersome. The bags kept sticking to the needles. Crotcheting is a better alternative. Sewing is the best though you don’t get the same aesthetic feel. With crotcheting or knitting you can still confound people.

I tried making a carry all bag out of a piece of old material. I’m almost done and it looks okay. Sewing a bag is easy, like I said earlier, straight lines is to sewing what drinking milk is to a baby.

My friend told me once I started doing it other people would copy me. Truth is I’ll be glad if they did. There’s nothing I hate more than seeing those pieces of plastic rubbishing every nook and crany of the country.

***

I got the potted plants for my snailery. Because the whole family will be traveling at the end of the month for weddings in different parts of the country, I’ve decided to put off getting the snails untill we all return. Don’t want to come back to find empty shells, lol.

I was supposed to go for my aunt’s wedding, but ‘ll be traveling to Lagos instead. M will be coming down. All along I’ve managed to push him to the back of my mind, but as the date draws nearer I find myself looking forward to seeing him again. This whole thing has been upside down. I’ve tried not to dwell on missing him by throwing myself into other activities.

His mum, my MIL, doesn’t call as often as she used to. She’s not happy because she thinks it’s not right for me to be married and still staying in my parents house. She said according to Yoruba culture, it is not proper. Once a woman is married she should stay in her husbands home or her inlaw’s house. Even my bro’s brother in the US sent an email to his bro here in Abuja telling him it will be more proper if I stayed with them as opposed to my parents.

I hate the way people evoke culture when it suits them. I remember during my traditional wedding, they kicked and screamed about having to travel to the village. They gave all sorts of reasons why it shouldn’t be, even when my parents (the folks that birthed and raised me) told them that’s our tradition and that’s how they want it done. They were making snide remarks about how such archaic practices are still enforeced in this modern times.

Yet here they are, saying it’s not right for me to be staying with my parents. They should all go and sit down. So far nobody has asked if I’m happy!

Anyway, I’m waiting for either of them to confront me with why I’m still living with my parents.

When M raised the issue, I told him what should be of paramount importance is my happiness not propriety. Right now I want to engage myself in productive activity and my parents location is the ideal place for it. I won’t for the sake of ‘culture’ or pleasing my husband’s relatives sacrifice my happiness. Shikena!

When I was living with my MIL she seemed to be contented with having me around; like a piece of furniture. You’re happy to see it sitting there whenever you enter the room. She didn’t care that I was withering away. She once asked if I wanted to teach, that one of her friends owned a school and could get me employed. I told her teaching wasn’t really my thing. I don’t have the countenance to handle secondary school kids. I experienced their satanic behaviour during my service year. And teaching in a primary school would retard me.

I couldn’t very well tell her Lagos drives me mad. First of all the rotten neighbourhood the house is situated in is not condusive for a rounded development. Add that to the fact that M used to be a menace in his younger years. He was a restless youth who fought with and beat up a lot of neighbourhood boys he’s now afraid they’ll vent their revenge on me, therefore he’s banned me from walking around the neighbourhood. The day I ventured to the market with his cousin, he shouted down the phone as if I had deliberately thrown myself in front of a moving vehicle. Imagine not being able to take a stroll out in the evening? When you marry someone you marry all the crap they’re dragging around with them!

Secondly, my MIL is too old to drive so she has a driver. There’s nothing I hate more than being chauffered around. Yet I can’t drive because Lagos roads are impossible to navigate, for me at least. They’re very confusing. Besides, I don’t really know places ‘cuz I’ve lived there for less than a year. In othere words there’s no freedom of movement. I can’t very well be dropped off and picked up from work like a school child!

Here in Abuja, if I wanted to go anywhere I’d jump into my mum’s car, or if she’s using it I hop on a bus and I’m there. I get to go for exercise in the mornings with my parents. Feels so good to feel the early morning breeze kiss your face.

I once told M I didn’t like living in their house. He took it wrongly to mean that because they lived in a poor neighbourhood (which was not so when they first built their house) I was being a snub. I told him that wasn’t the point; I didn’t marry him for his money afterall. I told him it’s more psychologial than material. It’s like living in a cage; robbed of your independence. Being at the mercy of someone else. What a rotten way to live!

I hate Lagos with a passion. The whole world seems to be there. It’s so stressful going from point A to point B. There are too darn many people. It’s choked up and is always hot. I go to Lagos and I start sweating like a goat. Unfortunately it’s M’s base. Left for me I would have loved to try my luck in Abuja. I remember when I told M I would love for us to live in Ogun state or Ibadan or something, before Abuja came into the picture. He laughed at my face. He’s one of the many millions of Nigerian suckers besotted by the notion that Lagos IS the most happening place in the world!

I can’t wait to start making money so I can dictate my terms. That’s just the way it is. When people feed and clothe you it’s like they have a right to determine how you live your life.