Sleepless in Nairobi

After some Spartan but comfortable accommodations in Nigeria, my colleague and I arrived at our hotel in Nairobi for a workshop.  All shiny and new, it was renovated only two months ago and had had, they said, only a soft opening.  That might have explained a few things.  Upon further investigation, things weren't quite right.  For one thing this hotel seems to have an identity crisis.  Is it a hotel or is it an event space?  Is it large enough and sound proof enough to be both?  There were other incongruencies.  There was a lovely little french press and bags of custom roasted ground coffee, but no electric kettle.  There was a flat screen TV but only a few local news and sports stations.  There was a posh glassed in shower but no water pressure or hot water.  There was a phone but it didn't connect to the front desk - to possibly inquire about the previous issues.

For most of these obstacles there were work arounds - no coffee/tea in the room, read a book and make due with the sink's hot water.  However the biggest sticking point was the noise.  Our second night, the staff delivered a letter apologizing for an event that would be over at 11:30p.  It had a live band, which sounded like it was in my room.  The party ended at 1am.  The next morning as people shared stories of their sleepless night, it turned out everyone had complained and over several hours were told "oh it's wrapping up, it will be over in a few minutes".  Because my phone didn't work, I may have scared the front desk worker coming up desperate and wild-eyed in pajamas and bathrobe.  The next night there was also a party but it was a bit quieter.  And this afternoon, as I wait to go to the airport, there has been a party, also with a live band, so a pre red-eye nap is out of the question.

On the bright side, the staff were exceptionally nice and they gave us one night stay free.  

Road Rules

Even if I had had a camera, pictures would not have accurately described the drive from Ibadan back to the Lagos airport.  We departed at 6:30a for a 12:30p flight because no one can anticipate how long it will take to get there.  Could be 3 hours, could be 5 hours.  There is one road, two lanes in each direction, heavy with truck traffic.  There were five of us and the driver in a trusty, old mini-van.  Pretty much Nigeria is where motorized vehicles go to die - if the number of dented, rusted, broken down cars and trucks is any indication.

Not 10 minutes after departure we came up against a "jam".  Traffic going our direction had stopped.  So, like many others, our van crossed the dirt median and start driving the wrong way down the northbound side of the highway.   Then we saw that the same thing had happened on the south bound side.  Gridlock going south had run into vehicles trying to go north.  The accident, a turned over truck was blocking the northbound side so the cars had crossed over only to stop the on-coming traffic.  So like many other cars, our van took a one-lane back dirt road through the shacks alongside the highway.  Of course the north bound cars, trying to get around the accident had also decided to try this route.  Again head-on standstill with cars trying to turn around mid-road.  Fortunately we persevered and some bystanders or passengers of other cars started directing traffic.  We then crossed back over the northbound lane, through the dirt median, through the north bound cars in the south bound road and back into the traffic going south which had started moving again.  The Nigerian drivers are fearless and aggressive.

The rest of our trip was a harrowing duck and weave. Cars drive very fast and there are no lanes on the roads.  They are just narrower or wider allowing for more cars to pass each other.  You can pass on the right or the left, just as long as there is enough room and you give a honk to say your are going.  If there is no room, you drive on the dirt shoulder.  Depending on the traffic built up a two "lane" road could easily become four cars abreast.  One would think the number of accidents or at least missing side mirrors would be high, and vehicles came within inches of each other but somehow an invisible buffer or supreme spatial relation skills kept everyone separate.

We made it to the airport early and safely where a handler maneuvered us and perhaps greased the wheels through check in and security. 

Page Refresh

One day I'm running a 5 mile turkey trot in 20 degree temps through the snow.  24 hours later, I walk into a Nigerian wall of 90 degree temps with 80% humidity.  I'm not sure the human body was meant for such transitions.  Since I did not take a camera on this quick, sit-in-meetings trip, words will have to suffice.

Departing the airport defied logic.  It was hot, the immigration line made no sense, the driver appeared at immigration, disappeared and then finally reappeared outside customs, and customs waived us through without taking our forms.  I had met two consultants in line for immigration who were going to the same campus, which was nice considering the confusion.  In addition, our car was called back to the airport so we could switch to a larger vehicle to go pick up several people at the Lagos guesthouse who had been forgotten all day.  The plus side was an unexpected trip through the city.

I am spending the first three days on the research campus of one of our partner centers.  They have sub-centers in several other countries but are headquartered in Ibadan.  It is a huge, beautiful, serene campus, except for the air raid siren that announces work breaks throughout the day.  This morning I managed a run which took me through a tree lined residential street, down to the lake and back through the experimental cassava fields.  It was a bit sweaty and buggy.

Needless to say, impressions of Nigeria will be limited to the airport, the 2 hour drives between Lagos and Ibadan and to the campus.  Though, as our meeting runs an hour behind, as one of the consultants said: in Nigeria, everything happens in its own time.