BootsnAll Travel Network



Metropolis

Lagos outskirtsAn artery highway carves through the urban sprawlHarbour from Victoria IslandArt in our hosts' house

After Lokoja, we get as close as we’re going to get to the mouth of the Niger, a town at the very northernmost tip of Delta State called Asaba. Here there’s another monument to Richard Lander, but it’s unimpressive to say the least.

After Asaba we make our final long road journey in Nigeria, a terrifying five-hour game of chicken along jammed up roads full of suicidal Nigerians to Lagos. I formulate a theory in attempting to explain why Nigerians are not just bad drivers, but seem to have no idea or no respect for rules.

The main problem it seems with Nigeria is that for several decades now, corruption has been rife at every level of public administration. Apart from lining the pockets of a lucky few, the effect of this has been a general disintegration of public institutions of all kinds and a consequential erosion of society’s faith in rulers and the rules they put in place to keep the country together. In short, Nigerian society is falling apart, and to my mind the flagrant flouting of road rules is symbolic of this.

Wedged in the bus seat next to the inevitable big fat mumma, I drift off. I awake as Lagos is beginning, but it’s such a vast city that it takes more than half an hour from reaching the suburbs for us to get to our final stop, and even then we’re still only on the edge of town.

A taxi whisks us to our final destination, the home of two Canadian expats we’ve been invited to stay with in an upmarket part of town on one of Lagos’ islands. The ride gives us some insight into what the fearsome Lagos is like – a huge, steamy, dirty ants-nest of a place, crawling with life and seemingly never still for a moment. Today is Sunday, but still the roads are choked with traffic and the air thick with pollution. It could take a long time to get a feeling for this place, but sadly we’ve only got two short days.

The ride takes about 15 minutes, and then we’re out of the mayhem and into the quiet of Victoria Island to a district where ambassadors, businessmen and Nigeria’s trendy set rub shoulders in slick winebars. We’re suddenly removed from the chaos and hubbub of African life as we step in to the air-conditioned comfort of our hosts’ waterside apartment.

“It’s a bubble really,” our host observes, as we take in what to us is now an alien scene, a plush living room with white sofas, TV and coffee table. Compared to what’s just outside these four walls, it’s hard to argue.



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