Monday, August 2, 2010

Re: USA Africa Dialogue Series - 100_0174.JPG Kettle of water as substitute

I'm afraid that in a country where the clearly-labelled insecticide-treated mosquito nets donated for distribution to nursing mothers and children are being openly sold in the Lagos go-slow (I'd read about this in the Genesis Project just the day before, and now, on Saturday, there they were, 'in my very before', in the interminable go-slow of the Lekki 'expressway'), it doesn't take a great deal of imagination to work out what might be the fate of unlabelled lavatory paper.  It has nothing to do with beans and/or dodo but much to do with sticky fingers.  And not just the airport staff either!  I also seem to recall reading the embarrassment of a passenger from a sister West-African country who - finding rolls of the stuff available, decided to help himself to a couple to take home, only to have them discovered during a security check.

But still, what a shame.  In some of the conveniences at MMIA there are assistants hanging around to hand you a roll of loo paper, but I guess that the ones at the point of departure don't attract enough traffic to justify their manning such places; especially not enough gratefully-tipping passengers (well, I bet Osiadi would have tipped gratefully if paper relief had been provided - at least, if there wasn't enough time for him to get sad, angry and disgusted that such basic facilities come with an implied obligation to pay for them.)

Ayo

On Mon, Aug 2, 2010 at 2:24 AM, <Osiadi@aol.com> wrote:
I am narrating this experience with unfeigned sadness, anger and disgust. It was July 27, 2010. I was waitng at the last point of boarding the plane to London Heathrow en route to the US. The schedule was 8:10 AM. It was the Nnamdi Azikiwe International airport , Abuja. I had the urge to use the toilet as I began feeling I might have diarrhoea having eaten much beans and dodo with a fairly high level of pepper the previous night. I love beans and dodo and will not pass any chance to eat it.
 
I went into the toilet at the boarding lobby. I found no toilet paper. I came out and walked straight to a customs official to let him know that there was no toilet paper in the toilet. He directed me to another toilet in an adjoing lobby. By this time I was feeling hard pressed and uncomfortable. I walked quickly to the toilet. Oh heavens! There was someone using the men's toilet.
 
To avert an immediate disaster, I went into the adjacent vacant women's toilet. At this time I did not look for a toilet paper because time was not on my side. I did not even lock the women's toilet and I did it. After I had relieved myself, I now realized there was no toilet paper. As I looked around I found an empty kettle on top of the sink. I filled it with water and started washing. I do not in my recalled memory ever cleaned myself in this manner.
 
By the time I finished this ablution, I was wet through and through. There was, of course, neither paper nor cloth to wipe my wet hands and my wet, you know what. The hand drying machine was inoperative. Much of my trouser was thoroughly wet. Thank God it was a black trouser as it concealed its wetness. If it was another colour, I did not know how I would have felt joining my fellow travelers in the lobby. It would been a laughable spectacle.
 
No sooner had I taken a seat in the lobby of embarkation than I telephoned a friend who works in a television station. I narrated my experience and requested that he should report the incident immediately. Shortly thereafter, another friend telephoned me. I equally told this friend what I just experienced. I expressed my disgust and shame that an international airport had no toilet paper. He promised to take up the matter with the head of the airport facility. I have not, as of this writing, checked with my friends to find out if they publicised the incident or not.
 
While I was relaying my experience to my friends, I spoke loud enough for all sitting in the lobby to hear. I watched people's reaction. They seem to sit in stoic indifference to what I was blabbing.  At the same time I could notice some white women who went into the first toilet, came out giggling and whispering to a group of them who sat together. What might they be saying?
 
Frankly, I am short of adequate words to convey my "kettle of water as substitute" experience at the Abuja international aiport. My conclusion or rather feeling there and then was that there does not appear to be small epiphanies of hope that things are improving, if a simple thing like toilet paper, in so visible and strategic location as an international airport in a nation's capital was not available.
 
I am left with the following questions: was my experience isolated? How long has the situation existed? Do other Nigerian international airports have similar problems? What amount of money, time and effort are needed to put toilet papers in toilets at the international airports which are the final port of departure from Nigeria? Using kettle of water to clean oneself after excreting in an international airport is not only unsightly but offends my sense of decency. Please click the attached photo of the this Abuja airport toilet. I cannot forget the experience. Next time I must carry in my bag a roll of toilet paper. Once bitten, twice shy.

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