Held Hostage In Nigeria Part 1of 2: just getting there

Habari Y'all,

Oh, where can I begin? The past two weeks have presented so many stories to me, I hardly know which one to choose. First let me apologize for being late, but I was unable to get Internet access from my hotel room and my blogger is blocked from the work location here. You see, I'm writing to you from the lovely country of Nigeria...the city of Lagos to be exact. Let me just tell you the ordeal I went through just trying to reach this destination. It all began Thursday, July 14th at the Nigerian Embassy in Nairobi. I had to go there to obtain a visa to enter the country.

I had been told that I could go to the embassy, present my passport, a letter of invitation from IBM Nigeria and 18,000 shilling (16,000 for the visa and 2,000 for the expedite). I had been warned that it could take up to two hours to receive the document, so I was prepared with my patience cap on. Another piece of advice I was given by one of my Kenyan employees was, "to be all nice and yummy," when dealing with my Nigerian brethren. Yummy was her word not mine, but I thought, hell I can be 'all nice and yummy' for a couple of hours.

I arrived at the embassy bright and early and I was in a really good mood. I was first to arrive so I thought things were working in my favor. The first sign of trouble was when the visa office didn't open until 10am when I expected a 9am start. But, I was prepared with the tunes and games on my I-phone so I was okay...for the moment. A little after 10am an obscure window opens up next to the door that I was expecting to open for people looking for a visa. No one said, "first person in line," or "can I help you”…nothing!  After a few minutes another man comes up and says, “they are open,” pointing at the little window.   I didn't let this ruin my mood so I went to the first window and gave the young man my paperwork.

He asked me if I resided in Nairobi and I said no. I told him I was from the U.S. and that I would be returning to the States on the 29th, but he could read all of that in my passport.  However, since I was being 'nice and yummy,' I kindly provided him with the information with a smile. Now the next words out of his mouth threatened to disrupt our rhythm. He asked me why I didn’t get the visa while I was in the U.S.  I politely told him that I wasn't aware of the fact that I would need to attend business meetings in Nigeria during this trip to Africa. He told me he would have to check with someone in the office and asked me to have a seat.

After I waited for nearly 40 minutes while he waited on other people, he proceeded to tell me that I needed to go back to the U.S. to get a visa from the embassy there because I wasn't a Kenyan citizen. Now, my 'nice and yummy' was quickly becoming 'mean and nasty.' I explained to him, in the most professional voice I could muster up at that point, that my colleague from India was able to come to this same office and obtain a visa for the same trip to Nigeria. He said to me, "well, Nigeria has different relationships with different countries." I said to him in such a 'how dare you' voice that even I was surprised, "Are you telling me that Nigeria doesn't have a good relationship with the U.S?" Nerve!  All was lost at this point...'nice and yummy' went out the window and my Nigerian brother was tired of my holier than thou, I'm a U.S. citizen attitude. He told me there was nothing that he could do for me.

Now my blind rage wouldn't allow me to acknowledge the fact that a little ‘extra encouragement’ could have changed the course of things for me. I didn't even want to go to Nigeria at this point so I damn sure wasn't going to slip him anything extra to make this happen. I would find out later that this was clearly a rookie mistake. I turned on my heels and marched back towards the door in a huff. I didn't care that almost half of my Africa team resides in Nigeria at that point. As far as I was concerned, I would never see them if it meant giving this little man extra money. I took my outraged ass back to the IBM office down the road from the embassy to relay my story.

As I was telling my story to my colleagues in my best, 'I've been wronged' tone, they all looked at me as if they recognized my rookie mistake. Master Pu gave me the, 'you will learn' speech and everyone shared stories of their first bribe incident. I was still not comforted and I'm not sure why, because I had been warned long before I arrived in Africa. I think I was upset because I had been, 'all nice and yummy!' See, I could have been mean and nasty, rolled my eyes and given him extra cash and he could have taken my money, sucked his teeth and given me my visa. We would have both been satisfied with our 'screw you' attitudes, but no. This cloud of deception left us both dissatisfied.

I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn't be going to Nigeria that Monday and Master Pu was willing to give me a pass. We were already planning how I would get the visa during my next trip to the U.S. Little did I know, my Indian counterpart had other plans. He was convinced that he would be able to get my Nigerian visa in time for the 7:30am flight on Monday...it was Thursday afternoon already and the embassy closed at 12:30pm.

He didn't want to go to Nigeria without me. You see, Lagos has a reputation that is worse than that of the wild, Wild West. I was instructed that my first trip to Nigeria could not be solo under any circumstance. So, we had our own little posse planning to travel first thing Monday morning and I was messing up their plans. LOL. We were all willing to let my Indian counterpart try to close the deal. The plan was that he would return to the embassy with me the next day and work his magic. I was not only skeptical; I didn't want to go to Nigeria anymore. So, I would be a less than enthusiastic participant.

The next day, Friday, was D-day. My ticket to Nigeria had been booked and hotel accommodations set. My Indian colleague was waiting for me when I got to the office. At 10am we headed over to the embassy. There was a small number of people ahead of us and the same guy at the window. Ugh. My Indian colleague was undeterred. As soon as our turn came, my colleague went to work on this poor unsuspecting soul. I stood by with my arms folded, still seething from the day before...still not quite sure why, but I wanted to smack the man.  

I was amazed at how skillful my colleague was in his handling of my nemesis.  He wouldn’t take no for an answer.  The tyrant behind the desk realized he was out of his league and had us go into the embassy lobby and wait for the real man in charge.  After sitting for what seemed like an eternity, my Indian counterpart started to lose his ‘nice and yummy’ disposition too.  I could only smile when he said, “we will give it five more minutes and then we will leave.” After he said that for the third time I started to gather my things and start planning for the weekend.  Just as we were about to throw in the towel, a rather short man in the brightest orange outfit I had ever seen, walked into the lobby.  My colleague approached him directly and started to plead my case.  My bad attitude wouldn’t allow me to walk over to where they were standing. 

Finally I was called over to the conversation.  The man questioned me about why I didn’t get a visa while in the U.S.  Why couldn’t these people grasp the concept that some business meetings come up unexpectedly.  As I was about to roll my eyes, my colleague quickly jumped in to explain the situation further adding, “Is there anything we can do to make this happen?” The man begrudgingly agreed after giving me a mild lecture that went in one ear and out the other.  He walked us back to the little tyrant at the window and spoke to him in Swahili.  The man told us it would cost 23,000 shilling!!! A full 5,000 shilling above normal.  I was disgusted!!  My Indian colleague thanked the little minion behind the desk profusely.  When he looked at me, I rolled my eyes and headed for the door.  My colleague was pretty satisfied with himself and I was pissed cause I was heading to Nigeria…WTF.

Stay tuned for part 2 of this journey.  This ordeal doesn’t touch the surface of what I encountered in Lagos. 

Della Rochelle

Copyright © 2011 by Della Rochelle Williams