Lagos — chaos and hope that befits Babylon

RON DERBY

THE city of Lagos is big and its people are as big, if not bigger, their laughter towering over an expanse of land that about 15-million people call home.

The Bible’s description of the city of Babylon fits Lagos well. It has a chaos that somehow makes sense to its inhabitants and not to anyone else who disembarks from the surprisingly small international airport.

But God is very big business in Lagos, evident from the number of billboards advertising prayer meetings or religious conferences.

Stepping out of the airport is much like being pulled back on a sling shot and released into the unknown, and at a speed that allows little time for comprehension of what is happening all around.

I arrived on the day before Nigeria celebrated seven years of democracy. It is a democracy that seems to be maturing, given that former military ruler and now democratically elected President Olusegun Obasanjo’s bid for a third term was rejected by the senate in a session televised on the state broadcaster.

After lurching from one military coup to another, civilian rule returned to the country in 1999, and while militants from religious and ethnic groups run amok in certain parts of the country, the country’s economic hub, Lagos, has remained peaceful.

Before embarking on this trip, a colleague warned me that Lagos is no tourist destination.

Lagos is New York before Giuliani or, as a colleague put it to me, “New York on acid". There are no museums or photogenic suburbs to visit.

After meeting up with an aide outside the airport, I was whisked by taxi to Victoria Island, a journey that would take us across the longest bridge in Africa, a “gift" to Lagos by former military dictator Ibrahim Babangida.

If the road to hell is taken by car, I am sure Lucifer’s inspiration would be the Lagos expressway. Here, road rules simply do not apply. Cars, buses and trucks weave past each other, and crater-sized potholes, with reckless abandon. The hooter is an indicator here and the noise is terrific.

There are hordes of people everywhere, on the streets, in cars and hanging out of taxis kilometres away from the grave.

There are people gesticulating, shouting in the streets, trying to sell everything from African jewellery to mats and mops to gigantic snails. The daily commute from the mainland to the island can take up to three hours in peak traffic, our driver says.

Transfixed, spellbound and speechless, we arrive at the hotel, whose charm is difficult to see through prison-like walls and gigantic palm trees.

Almost every business or residence here has huge, barbed wire-draped walls, much like Gauteng.

Lagos city is a textbook example of urban decay, of huge and uneven gaps in wealth. Towering skyscrapers nestle among overcrowded shantytowns.

Pinstripe-suited people in German sedans cruise along the roads, next to their brethren — most of whom live on less than a $1 a day.

Victoria Island has a host of beaches where Nigerians come to relax on public holidays such as Democracy Day. Alpha beach is very popular and is crowded during the festive period.

The journey to the beach took me past some of the relatively wealthier suburbs on the island. There is some major residential development in this part of town, South African-style estate living.

At a makeshift boom gate a fee of 100 Naira (R5,21) is charged to enter Alpha beach. The money collected is ostensibly used for cleaning up the beach.

But the beaches are littered with rubbish that the Atlantic Ocean has spewed out.

If you manage to overlook that, the beaches are fantastic. Along them is a long strip of local restaurants and taverns, just metres off the shore.

Under a thatch-and-bamboo tavern, the music of one of Nigeria’s most famous sons, Fela Kuti, blares out of boom boxes.

Kuti sang about the military rule in his country, the poor state of its infrastructure, and the political and economic corruption of those in power.

He was a saxophonist and political activist, and is credited as the inventor of the Afro-beat that embodies the spirit of Lagos.

There is a charm about this oil- rich former British colony, whose tongue is spoken throughout the country’s 923768km². It’s a bit difficult to put a finger on why it is so.

There is a vibe in Lagos unmatched by any other African city. The people I met during my three-day stay exude a sense of purpose, an inventive spirit and a belief that it will be fine someday.
RON DERBY

Lagos Survey!
Hmm, bet u've come n gone. Hope u had a nice tyme despite all da hustle n bustle.