Why are Nigerians always like this

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I arrived at John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York at 8:30 a.m. to board a 1:30 p.m. scheduled flight to Nigeria. I went earlier than the 9 a.m. check-in time in light of the expected heavy holiday travelling and well aware that when Nigerians finally wake up from their slumber and lumber their way to the airport with their worldly possessions packed in big and countless suitcases, the nightmare would begin. Arriving at the check-in counter, I saw a white gentleman waiting patiently for the check-in time. He had coffee in one hand and the New York Times in the other. At the stroke of 9 a.m., there was only a handful of us as most of the would-be Nigerian passengers were still in bed or milling around New York City in preparation for their trip when they should have been at the airport. After check-in which lasted about 20 minutes, I had plenty of time to surf the Internet while waiting for the boarding time. I decided to wait around the immediate vicinity of the check-in counter with free wireless Internet access to my laptop as the impetus.

At about 12 noon, Nigerians started arriving in their numbers for a flight that was to depart at 1:30 p.m., imagine this. Being an international flight, we were advised to arrive at least three hours before departure time. But Nigerians were not to be bothered and I dare say that this ignoble posture is the bane of our problems. Most, as predicted came with all their worldly possessions falling all over the place inconveniencing other passengers in a packed airport with no space to spare as they tried to stabilize them on a trolley or some kind of cart. It was indeed a pitiable sight.


One particular gentleman had a small U-Haul trailer hitched to the car that brought him to the airport. I watched in consternation as he pulled out more than ten suitcases from the trailer and piled them all on two carts. From all indications, it appeared he was the only one travelling. What could he be doing with that many suitcases? Not surprising, the line was dis-organized as Nigerians tried to out-muscle one another. Tempers flared and patience was in very short supply (if supplied at all) as Nigerians grew eager and desperate. The immediate vicinity of the check-in area looked like a complete war-zone replete with gory chaotic Lagos scenes that added aplenty to the already mounting stress of travelling. In the midst of the chaos, insults and abuses were exchanged freely with no restrains or succour as one middle-aged lady completely undressed another with her tongue giving us all a free show of contumely. After a spiteful head to toe visual inspection characteristic of a true Nigerian woman, one of the ladies assuming a war-like posture immediately upped the antes and went on the (verbal) attack. Their acrimonious exchange went along these ugly lines.

"So you are travelling to Nigeria with that cheap lace sown by a road-side tailor?"

"You have no shame," the other woman returned without sparing a moment, "at least, I have lace, the one on your waist looks like Okrika", a reference to second-hand clothing called "Okrika Wake up" in eras gone. I prayed that no one was from Okrika (Rivers State) amongst the Nigerian travellers as that would have meant an additional foray for insulting a whole group of people without provocation. Infuriated, the other lady sliced back at her tormentor with calibrated precision.

"Look at this small rat insulting me," she said with much despise. "If we were in Nigeria she would not be fit to be my housegirl. Somebody bought a ticket for her to come to America and she can now insult me."

The other lady undeterred, returned the salvo, "So you are now Madam America to decide who should come to America? A witch like you will have a house girl? Which parent will allow her daughter to come to your house? I beg comot for road jo! "

"You called me a witch in front of these people? (She said it in a manner that suggested she would have been satisfied if she had been called a witch in private). Wait until we get to Nigeria and we shall know who is a witch," retorted the other angrily with a hiss louder than the sounds of a passing plane.

By now they were garnering attention and for fear of security agents swooping in on them for unruly behaviour, a charge that might lead to the discovery of other illegalities such as lack of proper legal papers, etc, decorum reigned even tenuously as both warring parties encased their swords with a seemingly unspoken agreement to rekindle their hostilities once in Nigeria which will be a perfect theater for such recklessness. But at the counter, decorum had been set aside as I heard another set of Nigerians arguing very loudly with the counter attendants; had they used a bullhorn they would not be any louder. It appeared that every point was contested, every suggestion rebuffed and every refusal by the airline staff cast in racist light.

Even the obvious was debated and argued to no shameful end as the Nigerian passengers basked in an ugly spat of barbarism. Of particular interest was a gentleman whose bags were over the weight limit, arguing veraciously with the attendant that they were within the 70-pound limitation. When they were weighted again, the least weight was 92 pounds, 22 pounds over the limit. In a bid to embarrass him, the attendant "announced" this information to our hearing. Even his hand luggage weighed 32 pounds when the limit was 10 pounds. With overwhelming evidence that convinced everyone else, he continued to argue until security was called to haul him aside to allow others to check-in. I saw him in a corner with his suitcases trying to rearrange the contents after he lost the battle with the attendant. I was curious and went to sit next to him watching as he tried the impossible. In one of the suitcases, I saw what was tantamount to Wal-Mart - toaster, mouthwash, hotplates, stereo, radios, speakers, clothes, dry fish (from US to Nigeria? For what?), laundry soap, picture frames, cordless phones, etc. All these were in one suitcase leaving one to wonder what could be in the others - perhaps, his house and car?

It was 1:30 p.m., the set departure time for the flight (although an announcement had been made advising that the flight will be delayed for about an hour and half) and the line was getting longer. The intrigue here was the fact that the arriving Nigerians were not aware that the flight had been delayed and without this knowledge they arrived at the original departure time printed on their tickets. As they arrived, they did so with Mt. Kilimanjaro in front of them, which meant more time was needed for baggage screening and security checks. This was very disgraceful as the airline staff shook their heads in amazement, almost in disgust at the uncultivated behaviour of Nigerians. But perhaps, even more perturbing was the fact that the Nigerian passengers expected to be checked-in as though they had arrived on time. They saw nothing wrong with arriving at 1:30 p.m., the original departure time for the flight.

On a closer look at the line, I saw a young white couple with very little luggage, indeed, only two small bags. Yet again, my curiosity got the best of me and I approached them. I asked how long they intended to stay in Nigeria? They indicated that the lady's parents were Baptist missionaries in Owerri and they were going on a visit for about a month and half travelling through Nigeria and West Africa. It is noteworthy that most Nigerians going home for a visit do not spend a month and half. The average time is about three weeks, yet, all of those in line had well over the luggage limit of two bags towering all over the place as if they expected America not to be there upon their return.


Is this a microscopic evidence of the larger problem of greed and avarice that have ravished our nation and earned it the position of one of the most corrupt countries in the world year-after-year? Why do Nigerians feel the need to travel with the world in their suitcases? I was told of a young Nigerian gentleman of great scholarly reputation who travelled to the US from Nigeria with only a small suitcase. Rather than heaping praises on him for travelling light, a feat rarely seen amongst Nigerians, the US Immigration and Custom Services interrogated him suspecting a foul motive for his trip. All this was based on his arrival with a small single suitcase for a three-week working visit. Satisfied that he was a visitor with noble intentions with no criminal past, they joked with him that if more Nigerians travelled the way he did, their jobs would be made easier.

Just as the counter concluded the luggage check-in for the flight and was about to announce the precise boarding time, a lady, almost breathless, well wrapped in Nigerian attire with a headgear as high (if not higher) as the control tower of the airport rushed in with two small children in tow and a gentleman who was labouring under the weight of several well-stuffed bags. She bulldozed her way to the now sparsely populated counter and had the following words with the white attendant;

"Please, I am here for this flight," she said breathing uncontrollably and holding unto the counter for support.

"Which flight", asked the attendant whose face bore elements of surprise. But how could she be surprised, she must have been used to this sort of tardiness by Nigerians. As the lady struggled to retrieve her ticket from her handbag to confirm the flight, the attendant declared that all bags had already been checked-in and no more check-ins would be conducted. Were the flight not delayed, this lady would have met an empty check-in counter.

"Please, I must fly today," pleaded the desperate Nigerian whose lateness bore ample evidence of the loathsome burden of a nation. The attendant looked at her watch as if to say, 'why didn't you arrive on time?'


"I am sorry, but we have to check you in on the next flight, assuming we have seats for you and the small passengers," the attendant said politely but with a measure of finality that sealed the fate of the latecomer.

"No, I must join this flight to meet an occasion in Lagos," the desperate Nigerian pleaded as she looked around in search of support for her plight. Finding none among the other passengers, she fell on her knees in the true Nigerian fashion and continued pleading to the bemusement of all. I looked at my watch and it was 2:41 p.m. All of the passengers had either left or were leaving for the boarding gate, but for this tardy Nigerian kneeling on the floor in front of a white lady in her Sunday's best.

If only Nigerians can learn to be on time,

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