Better late than never

Here are a few odds and ends that were in my mind at one point but never made it to the blog.

Religion:
I went to the Abuja national church to take a look inside. The most prominent interior feature is also the most interesting: it is long and narrow, but rather than having the pulpit/stage at one end, it is smack dab in the middle. Between the organ and choir stand on one side and the media overlook on the other (not kidding), this means that the congregation’s seating is split in two. While the preaching may be just as good from the back as from the front, no one wants the wrong side of that view for an entire service. The solution? The center stage rotates, just like a big rotating concert stage at a Super Bowl performance.

I also found out that, unlike the mosque, there is no full-time pastor. This means the national church is really like a conference center – nothing happens unless someone comes to town or rents it out.

There is a new Nigerian working with me. Last week as we were talking some and getting to know each other he told me incredulously that he had met an American who was not a Christian. An American who isn’t a Christian? How could this be?

For context, remember that Nigeria, at least the southern half, is highly and very openly Christian. I am continually amazed at the number of churches (usually with really long and uplifting names), the death announcements that include notices of multiple church events in the burial ceremonies, the number of people who go around reading devotionals, the Christian columns in newspapers, and the political talk laced with the appropriate references to God.

Corruption:
I have been happily surprised that I have never been explicitly shaken down for money, though there have been plenty of oblique references. Airport workers have seen things in my bag (namely South African Airways biz-class packets that are World Cup themed) and joke about me bringing it for them. I’m sure the answer they want is “sure,” but I haven’t given anything up yet. A lady at a screening post asked me if I brought her any foreign coins. Immigration is always slow, but I haven’t had anyone hassle me to the point where I thought they were holding me up just for money.

At one airport screening the lady wanted to take away my razor blades. They are normal safety blades and I have flow in/out for 2 months with them. I knew it was made up and I’m sure she did, too, so I just argued for about 30 seconds and she relented. I definitely think she was hoping I would pay her to let me keep them.

That hasn’t been the case for everyone, though. When my project manager first arrived a guy was helping him through the airport and told him it was time to pay the “protocol tax” of ~$20, which doesn’t exist. The PM, suspicious but not knowing how to argue against it, insisted on getting a receipt. When the guy took the money but didn’t give a receipt, my PM made a fuss and two guards came over, at which point the other man was very apologetic and claimed there had been a miscommunication.

Culture:
One thing I dislike about this place is that everyone wants to sell you something/do a service for a tip. Props to them for aggressively trying to make money rather than begging, but I don’t want any of it and so I automatically say no when people start approaching me.

Yesterday as I arrived in Senegal a porter tried to take my bags for me. I wouldn’t let go. (My immediate reason: I had no CFA francs, was not going to tip the guy in big USD, and didn’t figure he would have any use for Nigerian naira.) We had an actual tug of war for a second of two before he gave up. Later there was a lady in line ahead of me about to put her bags through an x-ray machine while talking on a cell. Since she only had one hand free the guy came and grabbed her other bag. She was obviously peeved and was telling the guy off, but he stood there with a steel grip, shuffled two feet, and put the bag on the belt for her. Valiant effort, but no tip.

People here are also much more direct. The first day I was here someone was joking with me and said that if I ate too much of something I would “end up like her,” referring to a rotund lady also in the office. The other day an airport screener said she “liked my nose” out of the blue, and this was the same day someone in the office asked where the other McKinsey guy, “the fat one,” was this week.

They also openly talk about stereotypes of the different ethnicities.   For example: how do you know if a Igbo is really dead?  Wave a coin over his nose and see if he still doesn't move.

I commented once before on the newspapers and their contents, but I’ll also comment on how ubiquitous they are. Since internet is much less common and because Nigerian news isn’t exactly the focus of Yahoo.com, newspapers thrive here.

Comms:
I communicate here using a Nigerian cell phone and a Nigerian 3G data card for my computer. It is usually faster than hotel land connections. A 3GB/1 month computer plan costs 10,000 NGN, which is about $66. Not cheap.

Bad comms are a real pain. The internet seems to frequently slow way down between 7-10pm, perhaps because lots of people get on. This means, for example, that I frequently can’t call back to the U.S. using a VOIP number unless I’m plugged into a landline on the weekend. This week there was a day when there was no data service at all – on the bberry or the computer. I have never had a connection anywhere outside of SA, landline or other, that approximates the speeds we take for granted in the U.S.

The rest:
Sometimes I want locals to take a picture for me, and I have learned to very carefully explain how to use the camera. Cell phones are ubiquitous, but people here are frequently intrigued – and stymied – by a digital camera.

This also ties in to something else: a lady at work told me that one of her friends wanted to take a picture with me, and would I agree. I couldn’t really say no, but I just had bad visions of what would happen with the photos. It was an even bigger deal when they brought in someone else with a real camera and external flash to take the picture. Then I realized that it was an old Leica film camera. I was mightily relieved to know that the pictures, though bland, weren’t promptly going all over Nigerian Facebook.