For me the journey was an adventure I was looking forward to surviving. A journey that would end, I expected, with a feeling of achievement as well as exhaustion. Instead of sitting in the back of an air conditioned private vehicle while somebody else did the driving, or driving myself I was going to get a feel for the travelling experiences of the majority of Lagosians.
We first of all walked to the junction of the major tarred road that runs parallel to the dusty, waiting to be tarred, road on which we live. My cousin Tayo lives at number 80 with his mother, who is my mother’s junior sister, while I stay with my mother at number 26. Tayo came to pick me up and as we walked to the junction, warned me that we would be walking to Chapters, one of the three internet cafes in our neighbourhood that I have used. This is a walk of about 15 minutes on a road plied by the ubiquitous and generally recklessly driven passenger carrying motor cycles known as 'Okada'. There are no pavements and at several points there is an open gutter to be negotiated.
From Chapters, Tayo said, we would take a bus to Fagba in order to take another bus to Ogba. He didn’t get to tell me any more about the route we would be taking because, as we left my mother’s house an empty three wheeled motorcycle of the type popularly known as ‘Keke Maruwa’ after the Lagos State governor who introduced them, passed by. Excited by what appeared to be a stroke of luck that might mean we would not have to walk all the way to Chapters, I attempted to hail the Keke Maruwa.
Although I had been thrilled at the prospect of learning to use public transport in Lagos, somewhere inside I was also quite fearful about the prospect of doing so. Mostly relatives try to discourage overseas visitors from using public transport or suggest that it would be extremely reckless to do so. Public transport, especially the cheaper variety used by the majority, looked crowded, stuffy, dirty, precarious, uncomfortable and stressful.
People who use public transport regularly, particularly buses, usually have terrible tales to tell about being robbed, being cheated or witnessing some horrible site or other, such as seeing a person’s brains splattered on the road as they missed their footing while dodging in between fast moving traffic with little respect for pedestrians, and were run over.
I was eager to see what it was like to ride in a Keke Marwa. They look rather quaint and I had never been in one before. I was therefore keen to see if they might be the answer to what is for me, the major challenge of getting from one place to another in Lagos.
When I hailed the Keke Maruwa however, it did not stop. My cousin explained that where we were headed was probably not on the driver’s fixed route. This was the first hint of the order which underpins the apparent chaos on the mostly pot hole ridden roads of Lagos plied by 7 types of vehicle. These 7 types of vehicle are:
1. Private cars;
2. Taxis - both the ordinary yellow variety and the recently introduced new superior breed with meters;
3. Governor Fashola’s BRT buses with their own lanes on major roads;
4. The yellow mini buses called Danfo;
5. Keke Maruwa;
6 Okada’ and
7. Molue - the big yellow buses, that pack people in and billow out clouds of black smoke, that are gradually disappearing from Lagos roads.
In fact, we were only half way to Chapters before we got a Keke Maruwa, plying a regular route, to take us to Fagba. As we walked to the ‘motor park’ where Danfo’s were taking on passengers, Tayo warned me that we would have to sit four in a row on the journey to Ogba from where we would be taking another Danfo to Ketu on which we could sit 3 to a row. As we were going all the way, we sat at the back and my cousin ushered me to the window seat. This is a privileged position which, on a hot day I might have been especially grateful for. As it was, the weather in Lagos has been quite cool and the day of our journey was no exception. I therefore enjoyed the window seat more for the view of Lagos that it afforded me than for the need of the breeze.
Watching Lagos in the morning is quite a show. There is the variety of things on sale to look at, hair styles and attire of the people on the streets to study for inspiration and the number of people just sitting around waiting for their action – customers or passengers mostly – it seemed; to wonder about. The sheer number of people apparently just sitting about invites speculation. As I watched and speculated, some shopkeepers were in action cleaning the gutters which must be one of the worse job jobs ever but others, not respecting this monthly requirement, were setting out their displays in kiosks, shops and stalls while food sellers dished up delicious looking plates of rice or the fried donuts Lagosians call 'puff puff' and a whole assortment of other favourite Nigerian foods.
Walking to the ‘motor park’ at Ogba from where we would take the bus to Ketu, Tayo bought a newspaper from a vendor who recognised him as a regular customer. Tayo explained that he usually bought a newspaper to read on the journeys from Ogba to Ketu and Ketu to Lagos State Polytechnic at Ikorodu where he works. Because these Danfos that we would be taking on these routes have to go through areas that are policed by transport regulators, they would be obeying the regulations which only allowed them to seat 3 to a row and it was going to be possible to read on this journey. He was right. While he read his newspaper, I read the text book I had brought along just in case I needed to occupy myself.
The fittings inside our Danfos were not very tidy but they were not dirty and although they were not comfortable, they were not uncomfortable either. From Ogba to Ketu, the seats were wooden benches with wooden backs but that did not make them significantly more uncomfortable. If anything it made them feel cleaner.
We could see rain clouds ahead as we made our way to Ketu and before we got there heavy rain was falling. As we approached the ‘motor park’ at Ketu, Tayo started looking around for a place we could get down and take shelter but there was none to be seen. Everywhere people were sheltering from the rain or hitching up their clothes as they waded through the lakes and rivers that were forming on the ground; or covering their heads with whatever they could find; or simply rushing through the rain getting soaked. Tayo and I sat in the bus waiting for the rain to subside along with some of those who had been with us on the journey. As the rain eased off, fellow passengers began to get out of our Danfo which was queuing up behind other Danfos to pick up fresh passengers for the return journey. Twice, Tayo asked me if I felt able to get out and twice I said can we wait a bit more.
When driving through the rain in a private car I had often watched with horror pedestrians making their way through the rain on the streets of Lagos. The grunge from the gutters used as both dustbins and toilets flows into the streams that run thorough the streets when it rains which pedestrians now had to negotiate along with the traffic. As we got down from the bus with the rain still falling and a great deal of water on the ground, the walk from the 'motor park' where we had stopped to another 'motor park' on the other side of the six lane ‘express’ road where we would take a Danfo to Ikorodu, promised to be the most challenging part of our journey for me.
Would I be able to cross the road or would I prefer to use the pedestrian bridge to cross it Tayo asked me. Each option presented its own challenge. Would I have the stamina to climb the bridge? Could I run across the ‘express way’? The bridge was safest and turned out to be not as challenging as I had anticipated. The reward for making this choice was the photo I got to take from on top of the bridge. The picture of Lagos from the bridge was one I had always wanted but it had to be taken somewhat hurriedly because of the rain still coming down soaking our clothes. Despite being hurried, the photo does captures something of what it is like to be on the streets of Lagos in the rain.
The journey from Ketu to Ikorodu seemed like the longest and although I did try to read, I eventually dosed off. That is how comfortable our Danfo was. I was soaking wet when we got into the Danfo to Ikorodu but it had stopped raining when we got there and by the time we had walked from the campus gate to where we were going for a meeting, the Ankara cotton outfit I was wearing had dried off and was non the worse for the drenching it had received.
I was quite looking forward to the journey home determined to spend more time taking pictures from the bridge we climbed to cross Ikorodu road so I had mixed feelings when one of Tayo’s colleagues gave us a lift to Ogba. On the one hand, I was slightly disappointed that I was not going to be able to take more pictures from the bridge but on the other hand, I was grateful to be riding in the comfort of a private car and for the conversation with other lecturers from Lagos State Polytechnic on the way. From Ogba we took a taxi that dropped us at our respective homes at number 26 and then number 80. I had survived the journey across Lagos and I was not exhausted.
I was shocked at how much the journey had cost though. To Fagba was 40 Naira, from Fagba to Ogba was 50 Naira. From Ogba to Ketu was 100 Naira and from Ketu to Ikorodu was 150 Naira. 340 Naira one way! The cost of transport must consume a high proportion of Lagosians' income and partly account for why Lagos is such an expensive city. But Tayo would not allow me to pay my own way. Whenever I went for my purse he insisted on paying telling me that as his guest he could not allow me to pay. This kind of generosity makes budgeting difficult but is a habit that it is hard for Nigerians to shake off and Nigerians in London often describe their horror at the way British people carefully calculate who owes who what if they pay a fellow traveller's fare.
Travelling by one of the cheapest forms of public transport in Lagos is not as challenging as it seems from a private car, it was certainly a lot less stressful than driving myself. There is some order in the apparent chaos, partly due to the organisation and regulation that Governor Raji Fashola has introduced, building on and enhancing, it seems, the public transporters own regulation of themselves.
Although I am not yet ready to make my way around Lagos on my own, I think I am now confident enough to make local journeys and I will be less fearful and more independent in the remaining days of this visit and future visits to this exciting city that it is hard for a visitor not to love.
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