Nigeria: Day Four

Your right Chisom, I still do not have earplugs, and I don’t think I will be able to find them. But I think I am used to it now. For the first time, I did not bother to set up a wake up call. I just woke up at 5:30 to the honking as usual. I think I am okay with it… actually it’s going to suck being woken up at 5:30 on a Saturday.

This morning as we were leaving the gate of the hotel, our driver, Linus, ever so subtly slipped the traffic guard the thousand Naira that Greg had promised yesterday. The guard new the deal, but more surprisingly the guard on the other side of the street new the deal as well, because as we passed them, he beckoned for us to give him money as well. Linus waved him away and kept going. Greg, clearly uncomfortable that he created friction, was asking Linus if the other guard would share. [Side note: Communicating with Linus is always an interesting task, because despite the fact that he speaks English, his type of English is very different and causes a lot of confusion. I get the impression that Nigerians speak a hybrid English sort of like Spanglish, but instead it is infused with their Native tongue.] After some confusion, Linus insists that he will share not only with that guard but with two others that are manning the block.

In the car this morning, I noticed my first mosquito. I was told they were small, and this thing was tiny indeed. Mosquito’s are on my short list of things that are ok to kill, but these Malaria mosquitoes are on the must-kill list. Evidently one in fifty four mosquitoes in Nigeria carry the malaria strain, and that is enough for me to squish every one I see. Eventually it popped up again and it was squished. I felt better.

You know how there is casual Friday in the states (well not at Exxon), at my office in Nigeria, they have Traditional Dress Friday’s. So a good deal of the Nigerians, and even some of the expats come dressed in African garb. Naturally there is some competition as to who can look the best, so the outfits are really well put together. I am glad my mom told me to bring one of my African shirts, that way I can participate next Friday. Also, one of the admins is supposed to have the hook up on a tailor, so I will have to pursue that a bit more.

One of the old black guys in my group, who is a bit grumpy I might add, made fun of me for staring at the women who pass by. Called me a rubber-necker. It’s true though, but only half of my staring is because the women are beautiful, and they are, but it is also because I am so easily distracted. I tend to follow any object that crosses my sight. The worse part, was while he was ridiculing me, he blatantly was checking out the behind on this chick that passed by. After giving him the ‘I see what you just did’ face, he replied, ‘I’m old, I can do that’. Then he told me that if they find out that I am American, to some of them, I might as well be Puff Daddy. His name is Don and he is so close to retirement that he can do whatever he wants, including socializing for most of the day.

So, one of the persistent issues that I have had since arriving is having access to a cell phone, and an office phone as well. I have all the ingredients to have a working cell phone, an international phone that accepts various sim cards, and a Nigerian sim card by MTN. But because its an ExxonMobil phone, it wont let me put in another sim card without knowing the special password. Since I don’t know that password, I had to send an email to the cell phone authority back in Houston requesting it. I get the following note back: Turn the device on and enter anything into the password field. Doing so 7 times will erase the device, and you should be able to enter the device. So I do what he says, and instead of granting access, it locks me out of the phone. Now all it says is contact service provider. So I write this fool back telling him all this, but I am sure he will not write me back until well after I have gone home for the day. Oh well.

I also came to the conclusion that Malarone is making me a little queasy. I was feeling fine this morning, but after taking Malarone (our anti-malarial prophylaxis), I started feeling a little stomach ache. My boss told me I need to take it when I eat more fatty foods and to stop taking it with breakfast. Maybe that will help.

My boss decided to give me a little history lesson on Nigeria and the oil industry. The story goes like this. Above $50 a barrel of oil, oil companies really don’t get more money because almost all agreements signed with foreign governments are things called Production Sharing Agreement. They basically say, when oil price is this, you get this percentage of the oil. But since these contracts were all signed when oil was 10 and 20 bucks per barrels of oil, and were never expected to go above around 50, the terms were very generous to the nations past that point. In other words, as prices shot past 50 bucks, the percentage of oil that ExxonMobil gets to claim plummets. The idea is that the oil companies should not get ridiculous profits because oil prices rise, or else they might influence the price of oil upward. Unfortunately, this concept has not been widely understood outside of the industry especially not in Nigeria. Here the government pushes for workforce raises, and for higher taxes, which has left Mobil Producing Nigeria (Exxon) and NAPMS (Nigerian National Oil Company) in the poor house. Which leads to, as Greg puts it, strangling the golden goose until it gives you more eggs. The companies are in dangerous territory of not being able to reinvest in developing new fields. So the money the government wants now is taking away from its potential earnings in the future. This is the nasty state of affairs in Mexico and Venezuela as well. The unfortunate aspect about the Nigerian tale is that no one seems to know where the government confiscated funds are going. The reason there is so much unrest with groups like MEND (the hodge podge of militant groups wreaking havoc in the oil producing region) is because the people believe that the money is being kept from them and is instead filling the pockets of corrupt politicians. The end.

This brings me to another issue. I have and will say some things that put Nigeria in a bad light. But I like to think I do so respectfully and objectively. But one thing that I have noticed is commonplace here, is for expats to talk about Nigeria as if they owe it no respect. Black, white, and yellow expats from all over the world regularly denounce the place often right in front of Nigerians. Statements such as “I could not stay in this s***hole for more than a year,” or “I don’t see how anybody could eat this food,” and many others that are a waste of time to type. A lot of the people here treat this country with open contempt, as if they did not choose and continue to decide to stay here. Not only that, the air or superiority and the taint of ‘civilized living’ is present in their approach to all things Nigerian. It is not necessarily what they say, but why they sat it. If you point out the poverty all around you with empathy and with the desire to help, it is different that pointing out poverty simply to degrade a nation. The people here are smart, cognoscente of their countries situation, and are tenacious about improving their lot and those around them. So it is hard for me to hear people describe the average Nigerian as part of the problem. These people are part of a system that needs fixing, and sipping on the haterade is not going to help.

I was inducted into some of the office drama recently. So evidently, every MPN (Exxon) employee is entitled to 4500 Naira worth of goodies per month. That can range from water, to chips, to coffee, to cookies, but everyone is entitled to it. It is managed by the group admin, who is an admin. It is obvious that the policy is designed more so for the Nigerian majority who work in the office, but its open to us expats as well. So I hear Greg telling the admin, Florence, that I need to see the list. After that, he comes to my cube and begins to fill me in. Evidently, Florence had been ordering everyone’s stuff, except his and other white guys stuff. Instead, he suspects Florence received the stuff and took it home with her. Whether to sell or to keep, who knows. His evidence seemed rather convincing, waiting until they were out at a meeting to distribute the stuff, or claiming their order was lost, or making up orders in their name and asking them to sign for it… basically it seems very likely that she was purposefully ignoring the US expats. The catch is that these expats get all these things free anyways. The same stuff on the list is available in limitless supply at the various residences that the expats stay at. What Greg, and perhaps the others want to do, is to give their order of stuff to their Nigerian drivers as gifts. Eventually this came to a head when someone turned Florence in to the big boss, and she was almost fired for it. In comes my role. I am supposed to inform Greg if she actually delivers my stuff or not. But whatever happens, I know one thing, I ain’t no snitch!