Nigerians" goodwill leaves lasting impression - Winston

A few days into my two-week stay in Nigeria, I was asked by the hostess of a party what had surprised me most.

“That I haven’t been kidnapped or robbed at knifepoint,” I said.

The Nigerians in attendance laughed heartily at this comment, which was mostly sarcastic.

Mostly.

I had immediately accepted the opportunity to spend two weeks in Nigeria as a fellow with International Center for Journalists — an organization based in Washington, D.C., that promotes a free and independent media — with little thought given to things like, you know, my personal safety.

Not long after, I told someone I was going to Nigeria, boasting maybe, half-expecting a “Wow. That’s so cool.” Instead, I got something more along the line of, “Are you mad?”

And so for the next several weeks, I toed the line between wondering if this was going to be the dumbest thing I had ever done — displacing the time I rode a moped with my eyes closed — or if I were overreacting, buying into western paranoia about a misunderstood country.

My fears were not quelled on the eve of my flight to Nigeria when a private security consultant talked to those of us who were fanning out across sub-Saharan Africa. He gave some general tips for those traveling to Kenya, Uganda and Ghana.

“And for those of you going to Nigeria… .”

We should be cautious. Very cautious.

What finally erased those fears?

Being in Nigeria.

Being with Nigerians.

Yes, there were high walls topped with barbed wire, windows with bars and a security checkpoint — and that was just at the newspaper where I was stationed — as well as car bomb detectors and policemen toting AK-47s.

But that’s life in the big city in Nigeria, and these sorts of safety precautions quickly became routine and actually made me less afraid that I would be snatched off the street and held for ransom, something that is a real danger in the countryside, an area that we were, sadly, dissuaded from visiting.

So while I didn’t get to experience rural life or see anything remotely pastoral, I discovered a different kind of beauty — the warmth and generosity of the Nigerian people, many of whom took a personal interest in my safety, escorting me through areas where I might raise an eyebrow or two and reassuring me time and time again, “You are safe here.”

It would be foolish to sum up such a rich and diverse country as Nigeria after two weeks, especially since I only saw Abuja, the capital, and Lagos, a glorious mess of a city that seems to be wheezing one minute, dancing the next.

Unquestionably, Nigeria has an image problem. But I witnessed several beams of light penetrating the dark cloud that hangs over the country. For instance:

The country is unimaginably poor, with nearly 70 percent of its people living below the poverty line. This is visibly apparent on roadsides rimmed with people during work hours, some just hanging out, others hoping to pick up whatever meager work they can, such as the young boys who sit on their wheelbarrows all day, eager to cart some groceries or other goods for what amounts to a few quarters.

There are sprawling, maze-like slums teeming with people living on the fringes; crumbling roads and sidewalks; half-finished, long-forgotten building projects; a power grid with the stamina of an octogenarian, flickering on and off several times a day.

Yet within this country resides a generosity the likes of which I had never experienced.

Try to pay for your own meal and you are hastily brushed off. After I and a few other Americans wolfed down plates of grilled catfish and croaker and washed it down with Gulder, Nigeria’s tasty lager, we reached into our pockets to pay our share.

“We don’t do Dutch in Nigeria,” one of our hosts said dismissively.

Another time, a Nigerian journalist led me through a street market. I stopped at a snack stand, intending to order a Coke, and asked if she wanted one as well.

She declined, ordered for me and gave me that familiar brush off when I attempted to pay.

“You’re a guest here,” she said with a laugh, as if my gesture to pay was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

A small gesture, to be sure, but I got the sense that Nigerians are true “the-shirt-off-my-back” people, demonstrating a genuine graciousness with no hidden agenda.

Other sad facts: The average life expectancy in Nigeria is 52 years, a sad statistic for a country rich in resources, most notably oil, and a relatively stable democratic government.

People in neighboring Benin and Niger, countries that are much more poor and undeveloped than Nigeria, live longer than Nigerians.

This rankles a few Nigerians with whom I visited. They are dismayed that their quality of life hasn’t improved as rapidly as it has for those who live in Malaysia and Singapore, both of which gained their independence from Great Britain around the same time as Nigeria.

According to the World Health Organization, the average life expectancy is 72 in Malaysia and 80 in Singapore.

Cultural barriers are partly to blame.

There remains a healthy distrust of vaccinations, particularly in the more Muslim-dominated north, where some Nigerians see it as a nefarious weapon of the West used to sterilize its young girls.

Cholera, measles and malaria remain killers. Polio, which has been eradicated throughout much of the world, with the exception of Afghanistan and Pakistan, continues to plague Nigeria.

But Americans could learn something from the Nigerian diet, which is heavy on fruits, vegetables and fish. Dishes laden with cheese, butter and creamy sauces are rare. So are desserts.

In the two weeks I was in Nigeria, I saw maybe a few dozen overweight people and not one morbidly obese person.

Nigerians like their beer and wine, but I saw few smokers.

Corruption is rampant in Nigeria, no one questions that. But Nigerians are Godly people with so many mega-churches it makes the Bible Belt look like Berkeley.

Every Sunday, the streets are empty as people flock to churches with such names as Mountain of Fire and Miracle Ministry, House on the Rock and Holy Fire Overflow Ministry.

The services have a Nigerian spin but there are some overlapping similarities, which I observed while attending a memorial service for the mother of a well-known editor. After a long sermon, the preacher implored us to stand and sing a classic from the Baptist hymnal, “Shall We Gather at the River” or “Ree-vah” as it were.

Nigerians asked me time and again what lessons I will take back with me. I usually gave some sort of lame beauty-pageant answer about building bridges but upon reflection, I think I have it.

Nigeria matters.

Maybe a lot of Americans can’t find Nigeria on a map. Maybe we can’t name its president (the wonderfully named Goodluck Jonathan) or confuse it with Niger (vastly different).

But if oil prices, world peace and climate change concern you, you should care about Nigeria.

This country of 170 million, about twice the size of California, is poised to become a major global player in the coming decades, right up there with China, India and Russia.

According to the United Nations Population Division, Nigeria is targeted to have a population of nearly 1 billion people by 2100.

In an examination of those numbers, Max Fisher, a reporter for the Washington Post, wrote that Nigeria may experience the most rapid population growth ever.

If a government that does a less-than adequate job serving its people now can’t meet the demands of such a large population, there could be massive chaos with far-reaching implications.

Consider how poverty fuels terrorism (see Somalia and Afghanistan). Consider how Nigeria is already home to one Islamic extremist group, Boko Haram, which has shown itself to be every bit as diabolic and maniacal as Al-Shabab, the group that left a river of blood at a shopping mall in Nairobi, Kenya.

If the Nigerian government can finally rid itself of corruption and move the country forward, Fisher argues that Nigeria could be a global economic power, along the lines of China, by the dawn of the 22nd century.

However Nigeria’s future unravels, Americans would do well to extend their hand.

lodonnell@wsjournal.com

(336) 727-7420

Nigerians" goodwill leaves lasting impression - Winston