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Ponder:
If Babangida had no involvement in Dele Giwa's murder, don't you think he would have testified publicly?

Flashback 1993
IBB Nullifies Elections
Nigerians Protest Sonekan
Shamed by Babangida













Insight
How Babangida Fooled Nigerians for eight years

My Trip To Nigeria
Akin, former colmnist at the Daily Times and Concord, currently writes for New Age.

"I haven't been able to get "inside IBB's mind" yet, because I'm trying to get into mine first."

Ten years after my emigration to Canada, I visited Nigeria for the first time in June 2005. As would be expected, I visited family and friends while in the country, and one of such trips took me from Lagos to Port Harcourt.

Everything has become expensive in my absence. That's what I said to myself as I stood near the bar and stool of the Murtala Mohammed domestic airport. I was hungry and a plate of fried rice costs 600 naira. Six hundred? Incredible. I've spent less than a week in Nigeria and yet to adjust to the way the naira is turning the way of Ghanaian cedis. No wonder I've heard so much about “ Ghana must go” bags.

Over ten years ago when I was leaving, the highest denomination of the Nigerian currency was twenty naira. The fifty naira note was still being planned. Now there is a five hundred naira note that's worth much less than the old twenty. I couldn't spend six hundred bucks just on a plate of rice, excluding a drink. So I settled for the latter, which cost one hundred and sixty naira. Small comfort, I reckoned. Everybody else didn't care, I thought. The people may be earning much more, but they are enjoying much less in all their struggles. I was later to spend one thousand, one hundred and fifty naira on a single meal at Tantalizers in Lagos . Hail Nigeria .

Aboard Bellview Airline en-route to Port Harcout in the Nigerian airspace, Nigerian hostesses chatted excitedly, conspiratorially. The announcer's voice was a joy in my accent. The pilot was also local. Not that I didn't expect something indigenous, but it was still music to my ears. And gone were the accustomed politeness of Western hostesses, these Nigerian hostesses would order you around instead of subtly suggesting anything to you. If your seat is reclined and she's asking you to get it back to its original position, she won't wait for you to do it yourself. Her instruction is usually simultaneous to its execution, leaving you dumbfounded as to her audacity.

This particular hostess had a tray full of orange drink and water, and she asked for what I would like. 'Pepsi,' I said, because I already saw her serving it two rows ahead. 'Later,' she said. And she came with a cup. "Here is your coke," she announced. "Pepsi," I corrected. "Whatever!" she yapped. It didn't matter to her as much as the content was a cola. I took my cue and the cup with a head-shaking smile. Don't expect to be pampered around here, I remembered. Take whatever you see before there's nothing left to take, seemed to be the creed. Hail Nigeria .

I enjoyed Port Harcourt and videotaped a few places and things including the torrential rain on a Saturday, and a congregation of cattle on the way to the airport on Sunday. I enjoyed the company of old friends with their spouses and children, most of whom I was meeting or seeing for the very first time. The clan is definitely growing, and I thank God for that.

But the journey back to Lagos was eventful. The 6.30pm flight was delayed until 7.30. Yet at 8 o'clock nobody had the “status report.” Some VIPs are supposedly holding up traffic in Lagos , someone said, a reminder that this is yet to become an egalitarian society. VIP traffic? Nonsense. And until the airport authority -and other bogus authorities- recognize that we are all created equally, there won't be any improvement in the Nigerian condition. In more serious societies, the passage of supposedly important people is done humbly. The air, they know, is wide enough for all birds in flight.

I almost forgot the fact that there was electricity failure at the Port Harcourt airport. I'd forgotten until then that NEPA could do such a thing. Nothing here seems to be left untouched and untainted. And someone narrated the ordeal of some airport officials to me: How there was no light on the tarmac when the current president's plane was landing; how he got annoyed and locked up or sacked all those officials. That sounded like a legend to me, except that it could be true. Strange things do happen in a clime like this.

By the way, I visited the Port Harcourt airport toilet, reeking of cleaning disinfectants. I almost gagged. “Invalid toilet,” one of the stalls announced. What other things are valid? A lone toilet roll hanged on the outside of the stall while an empty water bottle graced the inside. How does anyone expect anyone to clean up after himself or herself in this manner? I promptly hijacked the toilet roll and took it inside the stall. A few minutes later I heard the cleaning lady's voice: “Didn't I just place a tissue paper here? I wonder who took it,” she thought aloud. I said nothing in my chuckle. What was the woman looking for in a male toilet?

Out of the toilet, the announcer's voice over the intercom intimated that our plane was delayed for another hour. What kind of airline is this? A lone cockroach came towards me and I shooed it away. It came back and marched on my upper thigh, and I flicked it away. The ladies around me were screaming as it came near again. Should I kill it? I asked. Yes please, they chorused. And I crushed the bug without delight, only because I remembered a nursery ditty, roughly translated, “Turn your feet to another side/ don't kill that insect/ the insect you cannot make/ only God can create.” But some bugs are bad, I reasoned to myself. Like some politicians I know, there is nothing redeeming in the features of a cockroach.

Finally boarding the plane three hours later, there was not much of an apology. "Our patience paid off," the guy sitting beside me on the plane said. I almost slapped him. Only in Nigeria is such a wait considered a virtue. In actuality, it is a flagrant disregard of one's person and time, an insult to one's intelligence. But what would have happened if the plane didn't show up? They said I should be thankful. And I am thankful.

I haven't been able to get "inside IBB's mind" yet, because I'm trying to get into mine first.

Email: akin@againstbabangida.com
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