I was talking on WhatsApp with my niece in Vancouver, an extremely smart professional–– product of the high-tech digital age. We reminisced about our strange-sumptuous-scary-shocking flight experiences. She admitted she hated flying in small aircrafts that have two rows of only-window seats.
“It’s so scary,” she said. “I prefer planes that have Isle seats.”
“Have you ever flown with Nigerian airlines?” I asked. I narrated my experiences . . .
(Full disclosure: in 2005, while working with Johns Hopkins, I was flying to Kolkaka from Dhaka on Biman Bangladesh. It was raining––the sky looked ominous. The small rickety-old-aircraft had leaky windows, raindrops fell inside, now and then. A friend, Harsha, was with me on that fateful flight. After a long wait, the plane began taxing at a slow pace and then slightly accelerated. At that point we were startled by a loud thumping sound. Someone opened the front boarding door from outside! The aircraft screeched . . . a ground staff had opened the door. There were loud exchanges deafening the sound of rain . . . and then the door was shut. We were on the move. No explanation was provided . . . It was dangerous . . . We hear about strange mishaps, mishandlings, misdemeanors by airlines, regularly––happens everywhere, frequently, with most airlines––doesn’t matter whether you’re on frequent flyer mileage or a rarity . . . )
Now back to Nigeria . . .
Along with the driver, UNICEF-Nigeria had sent a travel staff to receive me at the Lagos airport. In the mid 1990s, it was the norm for easy and safe immigration clearance at Lagos. The airport was a cumbersome cesspool of chaos. I saw my name in a placard and after exchanging greetings handed over my UNLP to the travel guy. He also assisted me with my checked in bags. In an hour we were on our way to the hotel. It was almost midnight. The road we took, crossing over the Lagos lagoon, was majestic.
I was invited by the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation/(Commission?) to participate at an international conference in Abuja, the Capitol. 250 participants were attending. My job was to introduce the Sara Communication Initiative––the multi-media behavior development/change communication project to empower African girls.
I hardly slept at the hotel. Next morning, I was given a round of the office––at lunch time met with the (Indian) operations officer. He gave me a big bundle of Nigerian Naira. For some reason, my DSA (equivalent to USD 2000) was issued at the Lagos office as I was invited by them. It was about 43,780 Naira (according to Google). All this money was in small bills (!!).
I also had another 17,512 Naira stuffed in my handbag–– given to me by our consultant Dr Aghi who had it with her from her previous mission to Lagos. She requested me to get it changed into USD.
Bank transactions closed at 2 PM. There was no way we could reach there in time. Corruption and counterfeits were so common that in most cases Banks refused to take back the Naira once issued. In case of reputable agencies like UNICEF, they considered but the process was lengthy. I was stuck with a big bunch of money. There was no space in my handbag or the laptop bag which also carried my slides for the conference. Those days power point wasn’t so popular or widely used or user friendly.
It was an evening flight. A national female colleague accompanied me. At the airport, the check in counter was under a massive passenger siege. The line was long, the airline staff was checking in people randomly! No way we could get on the flight by standing at the bottom of the line.
“Bring out your UNLP! Hold it high, follow me,” my colleague said.
And we pushed through the crowd saying in unison, “UN officers on Mission! UN officers on Mission!” In 15 minutes, we boarded (thanks, UNLP!!!). We flew air Nigeria. It was a bumpy flight. Surprisingly, the overhead bins had no cover. The bags moved and started flying off in different directions . . .
My presentation was on the second day morning. No one was at the conference room at nine. I was informed that the entire team was taken to an early morning cruise arranged by the Government. Participants were expected to be delayed by 2 hours. However, they were 4 hours late but I could do my presentation. It generated lots of questions, discussions. There were many international and local broadcasters, and programmers. I guessed Sara would sail . . .
And my bundle of money? I carried the stash around in a black plastic bag. I was advised not to use the room locker. I couldn’t convince the hotel to keep it with the manager. On the day of departure from Sheraton, the checking out line was long. Paying with Naira would take longer. I paid with my credit card. Big mistake!
We reached Lagos. My national colleague had an idea. I was advised not to disclose it to anyone. We were going to sell the Naira at the black-market at the airport
“I will do the negotiations. You don’t talk. It’s risky. Gun men roam around––friends with police. They may shoot, snatch your stash,” she warned.
“I will keep the engine running, the doors unlocked. Run into the car as soon as you sell,” the driver said––our accomplice in the crime.
It was a thrilling experience. After some discussions, the money changed hands. I got the US dollars. The rate was much lower . . . In 5 minutes, we got in the car and sped off . . .
The Lagos airport was like a furnace as I stood sweltering in the line to catch my return flight to Nairobi. I was flying Ethiopian airlines––checking in was better. The flight was delayed. After many hours in the oppressive heat (the central air conditioning system wasn’t yet launched––the glass windows couldn’t be opened) we were told that the flight had technical problems and didn’t reach Lagos. The airline was trying to arrange another flight to fly us––the wait could be 12 -18 hours.
While I was waiting, I got a marriage proposal from the head of airport security. He said it was “love at first sight.” I should seriously consider his offer––he was powerful and rich. My brain was melting in the heat––I got sacred that he might detain me under some pretense.
I took a big decision––bought a ticket with British airways that was flying early morning to Nairobi via London. Urban Johnson, RD, ESARO, was my direct supervisor. He would understand––flying without a travel authorization. I knew about his unique experiences in Nigeria . . .
The ground staff were kind. They got my bags out, helped me to a hotel provided by Ethiopian airlines. After a quick shower I headed back to the airport . . .
Without any questions, Urban approved the reimbursement of my ticket cost with BA. (However, I told him about my conquest–––the security officer!)
Bank transactions closed at 2 PM. There was no way we could reach there in time. Corruption and counterfeits were so common that in most cases Banks refused to take back the Naira once issued. In case of reputable agencies like UNICEF, they considered but the process was lengthy. I was stuck with a big bunch of money. There was no space in my handbag or the laptop bag which also carried my slides for the conference. Those days power point wasn’t so popular or widely used or user friendly.
It was an evening flight. A national female colleague accompanied me. At the airport, the check in counter was under a massive passenger siege. The line was long, the airline staff was checking in people randomly! No way we could get on the flight by standing at the bottom of the line.
“Bring out your UNLP! Hold it high, follow me,” my colleague said.
And we pushed through the crowd saying in unison, “UN officers on Mission! UN officers on Mission!” In 15 minutes, we boarded (thanks, UNLP!!!). We flew air Nigeria. It was a bumpy flight. Surprisingly, the overhead bins had no cover. The bags moved and started flying off in different directions . . .
My presentation was on the second day morning. No one was at the conference room at nine. I was informed that the entire team was taken to an early morning cruise arranged by the Government. Participants were expected to be delayed by 2 hours. However, they were 4 hours late but I could do my presentation. It generated lots of questions, discussions. There were many international and local broadcasters, and programmers. I guessed Sara would sail . . .
And my bundle of money? I carried the stash around in a black plastic bag. I was advised not to use the room locker. I couldn’t convince the hotel to keep it with the manager. On the day of departure from Sheraton, the checking out line was long. Paying with Naira would take longer. I paid with my credit card. Big mistake!
We reached Lagos. My national colleague had an idea. I was advised not to disclose it to anyone. We were going to sell the Naira at the black-market at the airport
“I will do the negotiations. You don’t talk. It’s risky. Gun men roam around––friends with police. They may shoot, snatch your stash,” she warned.
“I will keep the engine running, the doors unlocked. Run into the car as soon as you sell,” the driver said––our accomplice in the crime.
It was a thrilling experience. After some discussions, the money changed hands. I got the US dollars. The rate was much lower . . . In 5 minutes, we got in the car and sped off . . .
The Lagos airport was like a furnace as I stood sweltering in the line to catch my return flight to Nairobi. I was flying Ethiopian airlines––checking in was better. The flight was delayed. After many hours in the oppressive heat (the central air conditioning system wasn’t yet launched––the glass windows couldn’t be opened) we were told that the flight had technical problems and didn’t reach Lagos. The airline was trying to arrange another flight to fly us––the wait could be 12 -18 hours.
While I was waiting, I got a marriage proposal from the head of airport security. He said it was “love at first sight.” I should seriously consider his offer––he was powerful and rich. My brain was melting in the heat––I got sacred that he might detain me under some pretense.
I took a big decision––bought a ticket with British airways that was flying early morning to Nairobi via London. Urban Johnson, RD, ESARO, was my direct supervisor. He would understand––flying without a travel authorization. I knew about his unique experiences in Nigeria . . .
The ground staff were kind. They got my bags out, helped me to a hotel provided by Ethiopian airlines. After a quick shower I headed back to the airport . . .
Without any questions, Urban approved the reimbursement of my ticket cost with BA. (However, I told him about my conquest–––the security officer!)
Contact Nuzhat at nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com
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