Nigeria – Day 0 – Going Back Through Time

The first questions everyone's asks me is why does flights going to Nigeria leave Malaysia in the wee hours of the morning. Emirates departs from KLIA at 1.30 am, while our flight, Qatar airlines, departed at 3.30 am. Apparently its because travelling between the Nigerian airport and the hotel after sunset is not a wise idea, so all planes try to reach Lagos by early evening the latest.

 

We were at the airport 3 hours before departure, thinking we would be early. How wrong we were. We spent 45 minutes lining up at the checking counter, praying that our bags, which weighed closed to 44kg’s at our home, would go through without being penalized. They came in at 41kg’s at the airport. Our hand carry bags and laptop bag wasn't even checked.

 

Journey from Kuala Lumpur to Doha, Qatar would take close to 7.5 hours. Doha to Lagos would take another 7.5 hours with 1.5 hours transit time at Doha airport.

 

 

My wife took this picture as the plane crossed India/Pakistan. We left midnight in KL and now we’re passing the sunset in India/Pakistan.

 

 

This is the view of Doha as the plane was about to land. Note the sand color. This is how a desert looks like. The whole country is the same color. The only green we saw were at residential areas and construction sites.

 

At Doha, we had to get off the plane onto the tarmac and board a bus that took us to the terminal. Half the airport looks like its under construction.

 

 

The pictures above are of the Duty Free shop in the Doha airport. Note the non-existence of local Qataris working. Everyone who’s working at the airport are all foreigners. Although there were a few Wi-Fi connections, none of them seemed to work. So, we couldn't do much while waiting to board the plane to Lagos.

 

Pictures below are of the Doha airport.

 

 

So far, so good. Now off to Lagos.

 

We were served breakfast on the plane. I took the omelet (bottom picture) while Pauline took the other funny looking thing (top picture)   :)

 

 

Picture below shows the combination of Chinese and Africans in the last leg of the journey. And just like what the websites said, everyone clapped and made loud noises when the plane landed in Nigeria. I wondered whether that was because not many planes landed successfully or … Anyway, I was lethargic when I finally landed.

 

 

Now we had to go through the dreaded immigration. If you have read the numerous blogs about Nigeria, then you’d know that you’re expected to wait for hours to clear immigration and hope your bags do arrive and of course, “pay” your way out. The pictures below show the immigration (which we’re not supposed to capture but Pauline did while I went hunting for our bags).

 

 

 

As expected, there were only two luggage carousals. All luggage's go through these two carousals. Luckily for us, there were only 4 incoming flights. So the wait wasn't long.

 

Why wasn't there any pictures of the immigration line. Well, there were two lines at the Immigrations, one for Nigerians and one for foreigners. And I was one of the last to be line. Then a big sized immigration officer walked by with a small note in hand which had my name in it. I identified myself and he demanded to see my passport. I showed it to him and he took both our passports and walked away.

 

I had sudden thoughts of spending the rest of my days in Nigerian prison should he not return with my passport. Pauline wanted me to call my project manager immediately but I was paying attention to where this Immigration officer was going. He went to the beginning of the line where the Immigration officers stood and barked some orders. Within 3 minutes, he was back and pulled us out of the long queue and asked us to go and find out bags (you had to get pass the Immigration officer before proceeding to baggage). At that point, I felt quite privileged. Someone in my office told me that my parent company treats its staff very well. This feels like a King’s treatment!

 

 

After waiting for close to 30 minutes for my luggage to arrive, we walked out to the Custom officers. A Customs officer pulled us aside and asked us about the contents of our luggage and for some “presents.” I told him the Immigration officer (giving his name) said we could pass just through. After hearing the Immigration officers name, we were let through without much hassle.

 

Once out of the Customs, another lady greeted us, asking for our baggage receipt and for some “presents.” We told her that we didn't change any money since this was our first time. She pointed out the money changer close by. I pretended to walk towards the money changer but then made a detour towards the exit.

 

Just like in Malaysia, lots of people offered their taxi services outside the airport but the company had sent someone to pick us up. We walked a long way to where the car, a Honda Accord, was parked. We then headed for our hotel, the journey taking close to 30 minutes.

 

Descriptions for pictures below will be short and sweet.

 

 

This is the airport car park, a 10-minute walk with our luggage's.

 

The entrance gate to the airport. What the picture didn't capture was the army personnel with machine guns at the gate.

 

The other entrance to the airport.

 

The beach close to where we live. Note the men on the horses.

 

 

A church close by the airport.

 

 

 

A Nigerian police car and van parked outside the police base.

 

Pictures below show the landscape. Poverty was evident everywhere.

 

 

 

 

Note the living conditions.

 

 

 

Oh yes, although the power lines operate at 240V, 50 Hz, following the British, they follow the Americans and drive on the right hand side of the road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note the traffic conditions. Everyone weaves in and out of traffic and they honk most of the time. According to out driver, honking alerts everyone. If this was done in Malaysia, Malaysian drivers would be fist fighting with each other.

 

 

 

Nigerian public bus.

 

 

 

 

Living conditions. This part of town was close to the airport. Across the bridge to Victory Island, the landscape changes to buildings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the highway to Victoria Island.

 

 

 

 

This was one of the very few motorcyclist with a helmet on. The rest do no wear helmets and they weave through traffic like the Malaysian Mat Rempits. This guy must be a foreigner.

 

 

 

 

Taxi anyone?

 

 

 

 

PC warehouse and DHL.

 

 

 

My hotel is heavily guarded with barb wiring running on top of the wall and heavy iron gates and remote surveillance. Haven't had a chance to take pictures, will do in next posting.