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Friday, May 18, 2012GOING BANANAS ON BANANA ISLAND
Ahhh, so here I am, back in Bananaland, after an albeit way too short sojourn Down South. In time - give me a few days cos I've only just unpacked - I shall select a few chosen photos of a place that Hubs & I quite simply can't get enough of. But in the meantime, I thought I'd run a few of my frustrations by y'all.
Since moving into our apartment on Banana Island, which isn't an island, but is on an island called Lagos Island, which is over the wet stuff from Lagos mainland............are ya still with me?.............yeah?.......OK..........well Hubs & I made a conscious decision not to smoke inside the home. So, in order to have a fag, we nut out to the balcony & pollute the great Nigerian air and/or sky. (At this point, anti-smokers, kindly stay confined to your boxes, unless you'd like to engage in an argument that you won't win. *ahem*) OK, so getting back to having a fag............sometimes, during the day, I'll go out & sit on the balcony & either look at the scenery, play a game, send text messages or read some or other drivel. It's just while I have my fag & then I come back inside & carry on with whatever I may be doing.
So yesterday, having got a new DingleBerry that is really bloody pukka, I went out to sit on the balcony & set about trying to 'personalise' my new phone. But it won't pick up a strong enough signal in order for me to register my email accounts, because I live on Banana Island & the cellphone reception if fucking pathetic at the best of times (which causes me immense frustration, because my SA cellphone - also a DingleBerry - works perfectly & never has a problem with reception, which I suspect is a secret plot by Vodacom to get as much money out of their customers as possible, especially when sed customer has her phone on roaming & has to pay obscene rates to either make or receive calls) I eventually gave up trying to register what needed to be registered & lit another fag, to ease my frustration as it were. If I can motivate myself enough, I'll try again later this afternoon. (When I explained my frustrating attempts to Hubs last night, he said "Dunno what the problem is, I get a full signal outside & managed to load all my stuff." If it wasn't for the fact that we're only on the 3rd floor, I'd be tempted to push him over the balcony. *sigh*)
Another thing that really, but really pisses on my battery, is leaving & entering the country through Murtala Muhammed International Airport, in Lovely Lagos (NOT!) I thought leaving in December was bad enough, but a fortnight ago really beats that experience! I was soon to discover that 'improvements' (ROTFLMFAO) were taking place & upon entering via a scaffolded opening, I was greeted by a sweaty, dawdling mass of people, who were trying very hard not to walk over several barrow loads of sand, which had been dumped rather unceremoniously on the floor, which was by the way, in the process of being broken/ripped up. The sand was in the direct path of foot traffic & along with various other construction obstacles, entering the actual terminal building quite a mission. But, with the gentle prodding of ankle-snapping suitcases on wheels, we made our way past the dawdlers & headed towards the check-in desk...............................where we were stopped & informed that our cases would have to be weighed before going any further. The temperature inside the terminal building must've been around 30C+ & with a humidity level of close to 100%, it was not exactly pleasing to ones demeanor, if you get my drift. So, without objection (and because I knew our cases were well underweight) I duly plonked the cases on the scales & was issued with a pink ticket, while Hubs was issued with a white ticket & we were instructed to proceed to 'security', before we could go to actually check in.
Security. Hmmmmmmmmm.
Murtala Muhammed International Airport does not, repeat NOT have the gift of scanners. (Even if it did, they'd be fucked within a week, thanks to the constant power cuts & electrical surges).
So, for 'security', we have the Black-o-matic version.
This involves one hoisting ones suitcase up onto a rickety table (I suspect it was a school principles desk in 1958) where one smiling Black-o-matic 'Airport' Security Person will instruct you to open your case for "inspection".
Hmmmmmm.
Having performed this task, the Airport Security Black-o-matic then smiles very politely & then slides your case 12" to his right, for a Secondary Blac-o-matic Security Police Person to rummage a bit more. Items are taken out, held up, looked at, put to one side & as much disruption is caused as possible in a few short minutes, simply because it can be. Having not found anything suspicious or illegal (despite a now 3rd Black-o-matic taking a shine to my bottle of Aigner White, which I silently dared him to take, cos I would've created enough shit for a fucking nuclear fallout - don't touch my perfume!!) my suitcase & its shuffled contents were then pushed towards me with a grunt of "OK" & I am expected to repack & get the case off of the rickety table within 3 seconds, or 2 if possible. Screw you I thought & took my time putting things in order again. Then Hubs had his turn, which was fun. I'd locked his case with just a cable tie & when the Police Security told him to open it, he asked them for a knife or pair of scissors, in order to cut the cabtie. Hehehehe...........oh wot fun! The filth insisted he open his case & Hubs insisted they provide him the tool in which to do so - Catch 22 situation. When informed that it was the Airline/Airport security who insisted that passengers couldn't carry knives or scissors, what is the passenger supposed to do? One bolt-eyed 'officer' got really agitated & started shouting, to which Hubs shouted his responses. Finally, a more understanding 'officer' came along & offered Hubs a knife - he was very polite & also very helpful. Want to antagonise my ol' man?, just shout at him! Anyway, the case was opened, the contents barely checked (because there was an almighty queue buiding up) & Hubs was informed it was "safe to close" DUH!!
We checked in, which was thankfully painless, although incredibly slow. By this time, our clothes were sticking to us as we were drenched in sweat.
We went outside, for a last fag, before going through passport control. As we went to enter the terminal building again, an armed security guard asked "What have you got for me?". This, we have had the misfortune of learning, is standard procedure by anyone performing even the most remote 'public service'. A bribe is expected, for doing absolutely fuck all, & that is exactly what this particular security guard got - sweet FA.
By the time we got to passport control, I was not a happy bunny. I had the beginnings of a tension headache, was drenched in sweat & quite literally couldn't wait to get out of the bloody place & on to the plane. The 'passport control officer' made the mistake of again, trying to solicit a bribe. "Eeeh, what have you got for me?" he said, all the time flicking the pages of my passport. I was just gatvol, so I wiped the sweat from my forehead & flicked it towards him, saying "Here, have some sweat - that's all I've got for you!" He asked Hubs the same question & Hubs' standard reply of "I don't carry cash when I travel" didn't go down at all well - the bastard actually wanted to question him as to WHY he didn't have any cash! There is no bloody stopping these people honestly!
To cut a long story short, there is yet another security check before passengers can go into the waiting area prior to boarding. And yes, you guessed it, the woman who frisked me asked what did I have for her. I snapped "Nothing!" altho' I was so very sorely tempted to offer a lekker snot klap, free of charge!
Upon our return this this gawdawful airport on Monday, Hubs company 'fixer' was on hand & he organised the stamping of passports etc. We collected our luggage, got the passports back & then headed towards the exit doors, only to be stopped by the 'Health Authority' dipshit, who wanted a bribe for assuming we didn't have valid Yellow Fever stamped innoculation cards. We've got the legit cards, with the legit stamps & the dipshit got zilch. A 'customs officer' of the female gorilla variety stood in my way & wanted to know what I had in my suitcase, so I gave her my best 'Do You Really Want To Fuck With Me Now?' look & said "Dirty washing............nothing more than a case full of dirty washing." What the hell she was expecting me to declare I simply do not know.
Murtala Muhammed International Airport - it's gotta rank as one of the most disorganised, inept, corrupt airports in the whole of this continet!
And just to make my friggin' day, when we got home to the apartment, I noticed a distinct smell coming from the kitchen. It really was ewwwwwwww. It turns out that 2 days after we left, the electricity had 'tripped' in the mains box & because no one was in the apartment, it stayed off for 7 days.
Which meant that everything in the freezer defrosted.
And started smelling.
And the fluids from sed frozen foods, spread all across the kitchen floor, turned a lovely shade of green & basically stank both the freezer & kitchen out.
And I am mad, because this bloody country doesn't have any form of regular or efficient electricity suppliers. You get what you can from whoever you can & the rest is down to enormous generators. The gennys kick in when mains electricity dies & naturally, the gennys go off again when mains electricity springs to life once more. This can happen at least 6 times a day. The power surges caused by both the mains & generator cause incredible damage to electrical appliances. One very expensive washing machine later (used once!) & I know what I'm talking about! So, now & again, the sudden surges actually trip the mains switch & this is what happened whilst we were away.
There are days when I could quite easily kill...........................
So, MTN cellphone coverage is crap at best, the electricity supply is deadly & the airport in Lagos is a nightmare.
Frustrating? You wouldn't chuckle................... Labels: Banana Island, bribery in Nigeria, electricity suppliers need hanging by the balls, Lagos Airport, Murtala Muhammed International Airport  
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