Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Broke

The rich American is broke, in Africa. Last Thursday morning I borrowed a 12000 Naira (100 USD) from my boss to get me through the rest of the week. By early Friday morning it was gone. The reason I have to borrow money instead of just using my own, is that I have no access to funds here. My Corporate Card is off limits because the company bans its use in Nigeria, my ATM card won’t work here because my bank will assume some sort of fraud scam is going on, so really the only funds I have is the cash that I brought with me. Everyone told me that this was the case, but they grossly underestimated how much I would need. All the coworkers I talked to before coming said that I would be hard pressed to spend 500 USD. The meals are free, your hotel is covered, the only time you spend money is if you want to eat somewhere besides the hotel. So I brought 500 bucks with me.

What they left out of their explanation is that they never leave the hotel and have fun. Fun here is expensive, because they price the troublemakers out. So all the partying and having fun let me run through my 500 in four weeks, leaving me forced to borrow money from the bossman on Thursday morning. He had offered to let me borrow money before, so it was no big deal. I had big plans of not spending the vast majority of those funds and giving most of it to the staff of the hotel in tips.

But then Kunle called, asking if I wanted to go out with him and some Chevron folks for dinner and maybe a drink or two. Thinking Dinner was within the budget, I gladly agree. It turned out that the little dinner was actually a big going away party for one of the Chevron guys. When the drinks and bottles were ordered without any regard of keeping track of who got what, I knew this was not going to be a cheap night. Dinner was a lot of fun, and really tasty, but the bill came to about 6000 Naira each or about 50 USD. It was a good time so I was not too upset at having spent that much money. But they weren’t done. Wes, the coordinator of the event, as well as the driver of Kunle and myself was not satisfied. He managed to get the group of about 12 people to agree to continue the party at the lounge Number 10. His most convincing argument being that the leftover money from dinner could buy us a bottle at the bar. Everyone was won over. Wes’ girlfriend Iji (a beautiful Nigerian woman) even agreed to invite some of her friends at my request, so it seemed like a win-win situation.

At Number 10, I split the night into a healthy good time, and belligerence. The healthy good time consisted of the ‘free’ bottle of absolute being split amongst everyone, and Iji introducing me and Kunle to her friends Joy and Cynthia. Joy showed up drunk and belligerent, but was a lot of fun, and Cynthia was a self-employed “model”. When Cynthia said the word Model, she flared her eyes and made a face that produced an instantaneous and unintentional ‘Ah!’ of fright from me. I had to apologize profusely for that. But they were nice girls and we were all pretty tipsy and had not spent a dime. Then Wes orders about 12 shots of tequila. Turns out Wes is an alcoholic… and none of his friends keep him in check. Eventually those shots get consumed, although I suspect mostly by Wes because the majority of folks were at their limits by then. Wes then pulls the waiter over and starts to order another bottle of Absolut. I immediately intervene telling him that it was a terrible idea to do such a thing, but you can’t keep an alcoholic from his drank. Besides, his friends were not protesting it all making me seem like that party pooper. I relented and the 80 or 90 USD bottle was ordered. Thus begins the debauchery stage. The older folks and the sane headed home, and those that did not mind acting the drunken fool in a near-empty club stayed. The hours pass, and it seems the staff is getting ready for us to get the hell out, but not before Wes gets in another round of tequila. I just take a seat, note that it is three in the morning, we have glasses full of undrunk alcohol on the table (although a surprising amount of that second bottle was consumed somehow), and brace myself for the tab. I secretly hope that Wes is so drunk that he volunteers to pay for everything (which would be appropriate), but the talks of splits begin. NOW all of a sudden people start paying attention to what Wes ordered. Protests are futile at this point and the calculations begin. I hear numbers like 8000 Naira, and 9000 Naira being tossed out, but in the end it comes to a comparably reasonable 6000 Naira a head. Deciding not to be ‘that guy’ I hand over my cash and laugh about spending 100 bucks in one night.

It was an amazing time and worth a hundred bucks, but it was not worth my last hundred bucks. Now I am going to have to ask the boss for another hundred and face his inquiries about what happened to the last loan. That Friday was rough; on three hours of sleep, I was woken by a call from Cynthia making sure I was awake for work. Unfortunately I was. I got a text from Kunle asking if I wanted to go out again, to which I replied with an adamant no. I was going to sit my butt in my room all weekend and not spend a dime.

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