Sean in Nigeria

Sean in New York

2009-07-28T05:08:00.000-07:00

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After nearly seven months in six countries on three continents, my trip is over. I am back in New York, back in my apartment, and back at work.

I haven't had much time to reflect, but it was an amazing trip that gave me the chance to expand my own mind while making (I hope) some small difference on a global scale.

Thank you for reading and sharing the experience with me. I really did enjoy blogging and receiving all the feedback. I won't be posting here any more, but you can always contact me at my regular email address, sbasinski [at] urbanjustice [dot] org.

With that, I'll sign off. As they say in Yoruba, "eshay," which means "thank you!"
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Zulu nation

2009-07-23T05:01:00.000-07:00

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Wait, that doesn't look like Lagos! In fact, I left Nigeria and am now in Johannesburg on my way back to New York.

I'm here just a few days, but I've done a virtual Apartheid Tour. Yesterday I went to Soweto -- the poor, black township that was the heart of the freedom struggle. Today I took in the excellent Apartheid Museum (and casino!). But the highlight was Tuesday, when I went on a tour of the Constitutional Court with Justice Albie Sachs, who my friend Ting is clerking for. Sachs is a giant in the field of human rights law, and he gave a warm and eloquent explanation of how they designed the building, how they chose the artwork, etc.

That said, I'm ready to go home. South Africa is a hundred times more developed than Nigeria, but there is also a strong climate of fear (due to the high crime rates) and racial tension that I never felt in Lagos. Plus, its damn cold here! I had forgotten it was their winter.

Le Grande Finale

2009-07-17T04:11:00.000-07:00

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Well, I finally finished my report and gave my presentation at the US Embassy yesterday. It was a huge success. More than 100 people showed up -- lawyers, professors, microcredit experts, NGO types, street vendors, and government officials. Ben Akabueze, the Lagos State Commissioner of Economic Planning, even showed up to speak for the government. With great help from the consulate and the CLEEN Foundation staff, everything went off without a hitch.

I gave my powerpoint (there I am, above), we had a panel discussion, and then we opened it up to some lively questions from the crowd, including members of the media. There was some moving testimony from street traders, and some irresponsible statements -- one professor of sociology even claimed "most street traders are criminals." But everyone appreciated my work, and the discussion was very productive. Next 234 did a nice article, and a couple of TV stations were there.

Here is the report, entitled "All Fingers are Not Equal." Its long, but if you read it, I'd love to know what you think.
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Corruption, corruption, what's your function?

2009-07-13T22:36:00.000-07:00

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President Obama is huge in Nigeria, and folks here were quite miffed that he went to Ghana, their much smaller neighbor, for his first trip to Africa. But these choices are not made randomly, of course. He wants to encourage good behavior. For example, if Nigerians felt a little jab in their side every time Obama mentioned corruption in his speech, that was the whole point.

Except for one guy at the airport who asked if I "had anything for him," I haven't experienced corruption here personally. True, as soon as the sun goes down each night, the police hit their roadside checkpoints, machine guns in hand, to collect 20 naira (15 cents) from each passing vehicle. This outraged me at first, but I've gotten used to it. Its not much different from a toll booth. And, since Nigerians pay very little if anything in taxes anyway, this is their way to pay for a police force.

The real problem is with the billions of dollars that get siphoned off by corrupt politicians every year. Nigerian leaders have apparently stolen $380 billion from government coffers over the past 50 years. One guy I know, friends with the former Lagos governor, received a plot of land in Ikorodu on which he is building a new house.

Want to get a visit from President Obama, Nigeria? You might want to start by bringing back Nuhu Ribadu, the corruption czar who got fired last year for investigating the wrong people.
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Healthy living

2009-07-08T22:46:00.000-07:00

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One word I hear used a lot by Lagosians is "environment." I even started to wonder if the Sierra Club had been doing some covert recruiting here. But Nigerians don't use the word the same way Americans usually do, when we refer to things like clean air, healthy wetlands, and thriving forests.

They mean, "is there trash on the ground?," which is indeed a pretty serious nuisance here, although I don't know if it's a health risk. This woman in the Dr. Seuss hat is one of teams of women who canvas the highways, obsessively sweeping the remnants of sand that invariably collect in the gutter after each rain.

I thought about this last week after speaking to some vendors in the port community of Apapa. I had to cut one interview off after ten minutes because of all the exhaust from the line of trucks that was backed up outside a big flour factory. I literally couldn't take it. And the traders stand there every day, inches away from these trucks, breathing that stuff in. I told one guy he was losing a day of his life for each truck that passed by. And I probably wasn't far off. It was unbearable.

I'm all for things looking neat and tidy. But is enough attention being paid to the environmental issues that impact on the health of the Nigerian people? Governor Fashola and President Yar-Adua, please let me know, when you get a minute.
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Long arms of the law

2009-07-05T23:43:00.000-07:00

One reason I'm optimistic that the KAI raids against street vendors here will eventually stop (or at least slow down) is that they are such horrible public spectacles.

I was on board a bus waiting to leave Ojota this week when suddenly there was commotion by the side door. Two boys were fighting. Then I saw people scurrying in panic from the open space nearby. It was a KAI raid in process. The fight at the side door was an undercover agent beating a young Gala seller, who was struggling, as if for his life, to get away. Some other KAI officers grabbed a large elderly woman trader, whose defense mechanism was to lie down in the mud and wail like a child. It worked! The officers let her go. I guess they did not have the heart to haul her into the "Black Maria" paddy wagon nearby (pictured above, with the Gala hawker being pushed inside by some undercover and some uniformed KAI men).

And very possibly the crowd would not have allowed it, either. The newspapers here have reported on two cases where crowds of onlookers have turned in outrage against KAI forces, once chasing them into a nearby hospital, where the officers sought protection from police.

Pretty crazy. But its hard to witness one of these raids without feeling great sympathy for the vendors, if not outrage at KAI's aggressive tactics. As more and more regular people see what is happening first-hand, I am hopeful that it will lead to a more thoughtful, and less harsh, enforcement policy regarding street vendors in Lagos State. We'll see.

When life gives you oranges

2009-06-28T23:59:00.000-07:00

One of my best memories of Costa Rica is of drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice from a vendor in San Jose's main plaza. In Turkey, I saw hundreds of men, like this guy, selling the same thing.

In Nigeria, oranges are dirt cheap (about 12 cents each) and there are lots of orange sellers. But none of them take the additional, value-added step of squeezing the oranges into juice, for which they could charge a premium. What's up, Nigerians? Do you not like fresh orange juice?

It’s not that. It seems to be a lack of equipment -- nobody I spoke to here had ever seen a simple hand-crank juicer like many Americans have in their kitchens. And good ones are pretty expensive. So I ordered one online a couple months ago and had Mom and Dad ship it to me here in Lagos. I dreamed of training a team of orange-hawkers to use it, and helping them all buy juicers through this grant program sponsored by the US Embassy. Orange juice for everyone!

Well, not exactly. I gave the juicer to Dami (below) whose mom sells fruit on my street, for a trial run. And it’s worked -- he’s slowly building up some regular customers. He still helps his mom, when he’s not in school, but now he also has his own juice stand on the side. At 15, it’s the first money he’s ever made. And we’re talking about how he can grow his business, like by painting a sign, which he’s working on.

But the bigger vision has not quite worked out. None of the other orange hawkers near me speak English, so I couldn’t easily explain the idea to them. And, truth be told, with Dami doing well, I haven’t really followed through. So right now there is exactly one fresh-squeezed OJ hawker on the streets of Lagos. And its starting to look like one 15 year-old young man will be getting a very nice gift when I leave.

If you could speak to the Governor

2009-06-24T02:45:00.000-07:00

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My assistant Sakira and I have almost finished our survey of Lagos hawkers and street traders, which will be part of my final report. Thus far we have interviewed over 130 traders, in just about every one of Lagos' local government areas. Here she is talking to some Gala sellers at Mile 2 yesterday.
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The most interesting question we ask in the survey is, "If you could say one thing to Governor Fashola, what would it be?" A few people have been intimidated at the very thought of speaking to the Governor, but mostly we get great responses. Here are a few:

1) "You're doing a good job, but we are not the cause of the problem. 2) "We poor people need space inside the market." 3) "Fashola is good, except the KAI people are bad." 4) "I need a good job. Please assist me so I can leave this business." 5) "You are trying to clean Lagos. But people are hungry."

Gully in the woods

2009-06-23T01:31:00.000-07:00

With my new-found celebrity, I seem to have more and more Nigerians reading the blog these days. I’m thrilled that what started as a way to update family and friends on my travels is reaching a wider audience. As they say in Nigeria, “you are welcome!”

Did you know that the largest man-made construction in Africa – bigger even than the pyramids of Egypt – lies just an hour outside Lagos? Sungbo’s Eredo is a 1,000 year-old rampart that runs for more than 100 miles through the fields and forests in Ogun State. I read about it in a guidebook and went for a visit this weekend.

The whole thing is somewhat mysterious. Nobody knows why Sungbo’s Eredo was built (it may have been to keep out marauding elephants!), and no Lagosians I spoke to had ever heard of it. But the book said to go to Ijebu-Ode and ask around, so I did. Once there, I eventually found an okada driver who knew where it was, so we sped out of town, past graveyards and beautiful old churches. Along a remote road he stopped the bike and pointed to an old sign lying in the weeds. Sungbo’s Eredo, it said. Success!

I paid him and got off. But where was this eredo, and what is an eredo anyway? I saw a line of trees (pictured here) but nothing like the seven-story earthen wall the book described. Needless to say there was no tourist information booth. I followed a path through some pineapple and corn fields, then past an ant hill. The brush got brushier, until finally in a clearing I saw a small berm that looked like this.

Was this what I had come for? Indeed it was, as a later learned from a nearby chicken farmer, who also explained that “eredo” means “ditch” in the local language. Not exactly Machu Picchu, although perhaps it would be impressive to follow it the whole length. And maybe the driver just didn’t bring me to the right place – next time I should go here, where it looks pretty cool. But it was a good excuse to get out of Lagos for the day. And hopefully it makes good blog fodder for my readers, Nigerians and non-Nigerians alike.

Food for non-foodies

2009-06-20T05:45:00.000-07:00

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I am not a foodie. In fact, in New York, I eat pizza about five times a week. I understand that a lot of people really enjoy food and searching out different flavors and styles, but I've always been more "eat-to-live" than "live-to-eat." I really enjoy the social aspect of sharing food with others, but the physical act of eating has just never given me much delight.

Which is a good thing, because in Nigeria there are not too many options. One thing I've recently been eating is akara, which is a pretty typical Nigerian street food. Akara are fried bean fritters, as seen in the foreground below, being cooked in that pan by a wonderful woman I met this week in Surelere. Very basic, but very good. Here's a recipe.

School daze

2009-06-19T03:01:00.000-07:00

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I went to school yesterday with Dami, the 15 year-old young man who is the son of the pineapple seller on my block. He was going to bring me for "Culture Day" last week, but I couldn't make it, so I tagged along with him today.

It was pretty interesting. The assistant principal from the senior level school wouldn't let me sit in on any of Dami's classes, so I went to the adjoining junior level school, where the principal gave me permission.

The facilities were spartan, but not so bad. I'm sure they have computers all over the place in U.S. schools now, but when we were growing up, I don't remember having much more than a teacher, desks, and a blackboard. All of which were more-or-less present yesterday -- although I learned that the students have to make their own desks and bring them from home.

The kids were eager to learn, and the level of what they were studying seemed pretty high. In one math class they were differentiating y with respect to x, which impressed me and brought back some memories. The most disappointing thing, though, was the quality of the instruction. One teacher spent half an hour carefully copying Ten Points of Negotiation onto the blackboard from a book she had. What a way to teach negotiation! The kids were supposed to be copying the same points into their notebooks, but mostly they were just playing around behind the teacher's back, or falling asleep.

Fine art class was a little better, especially when the teacher had some kids come to the blackboard to sketch the logos of MTN and Glo, the Nigerian cell phone companies. She was making the discussion relevant to their lives! But then she lost them with a long discussion of pottery of all things. The kids couldn't have cared less.
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I hawk, you hawk, we hawk...

2009-06-16T00:42:00.000-07:00

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In the spirit of the late George Plimpton, I spent yesterday afternoon selling Gala by the side of the road.

Gala are sausage rolls that taste like sawdust to me, but at 35 cents each they are cheap, filling, and thus very popular with Nigerian commuters. Typically sold by young men during traffic tie-ups, they are the most frequently-hawked item in Lagos.

I put on my running shoes and went to Ojota, where I bought a half box, or 50 rolls, from a wholesaler for about fifteen bucks. I set out. Of course I knew that, as an oyibo, I would not get a wholly accurate peek into the life of a Nigerian street vendor. I thought that it would be more difficult for me to make sales, since potential customers would think it was a joke.

Actually, the opposite was true -- the Gala moved quickly. Many people called me over because they were curious what I was doing, but then ended up buying a roll or two. Probably just because they wanted to tell their friends they bought Gala from an oyibo. Some people thought it was a promotion. At one point a reporter from the local paper interviewed me and took my picture. I was happy to provide entertainment, but mostly I wanted to sell sausage rolls. “You want Gala or you no want Gala?” became my most frequent response.

The experience gave me higher level of respect, if that was possible, for street traders in Lagos. A couple of them, Paul and Ogbeni (pictured) took me under their wing right away, and together we experienced the full range of hassles they face all the time: harassment from local thugs known as area boys, constant fear of KAI, and a downpour that put us out of business for a couple hours. I was most surprised at the physical coordination and awareness it required. Imagine making change with one hand while carrying a box of sausage rolls in the other, all while running alongside a vehicle in the rain, after dark, with crazy motorcycle drivers bearing down on you.

I sold out in about three hours, making a total profit of $3.50. Counting dinner and a soda, and the bus ride there and back, I basically broke even. Just think how I would have fared if I looked Nigerian.

UPDATE: Oh my. I did not expect this.

Power to the people

2009-06-12T10:38:00.000-07:00

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The power has been especially sporadic here lately, which may be a result of tensions heating up in the oil-producing Niger Delta region, where despite last week's Shell settlement in the Saro Wiwa case, the MEND rebels are still fighting the government for a fair share of the oil proceeds. The rebels apparently blew up another pipeline this week. (BTW if you need to brush up on who Ken Saro Wiwa was, there is an excellent video about the case here.)

Whatever the reason, the charm of reading by flashlight has worn off for me, and I usually just go to bed early. But who cares about me? Imagine being a Nigerian school kid trying to get her homework done! This article discusses people's frustrations, and this sign sums up the costs to society of not having lights that work:

But I have a theory that the Nigerian power authority (NEPA) folks are actually pretty smart. Because if the power works most of the time, people will complain when it doesn’t. But if the lights almost never work, everyone celebrates the few hours a week that they do. The kids in the compound behind me sometimes let out a big cheer when the lights come on, which is only about 10% of the time.

And maybe that is a good metaphor for Nigerian politics as a whole. A couple people from back home have asked me "if things are so bad over there, why aren't people rioting in the streets?" I think the reason is that, after you've lived through the military rule of the 80's and 90's, things don't seem so bad. Nigeria even celebrated ten years of democratic rule last week!

Dirty water bicep curls

2009-06-05T02:56:00.000-07:00

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With the rainy season here, things are turning green, roads are becoming muddy, and people are finding employment opportunities cleaning out blocked drains. By hand.

Ibrahim, who I met in Ketu today, is another member of the Hausa tribe, from the north of Nigeria. Like any marginalized immigrant community, Hausas tend to get stuck with the most menial jobs. Just like you would never see a white person washing dishes in a New York City restaurant, you would probably never see a Yoruba cleaning drains in Lagos. Lagos is a Yoruba city, so most Yorubas work in business or as civil servants.

It may not pay well, but at least Ibrahim will not have to spend money on a gym membership -- look at those arms!

Won't be long now

2009-06-02T23:05:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite expressions here is "How far?," which is a greeting, like "How are you?" It comes from the Yoruba, "baawo ni" and the proper response is "da da ni," meaning "It won't be long now." Sort of like kids in the U.S. asking "how much longer, Daddy?" from the backseat.

With less than two months left in Nigeria, it won't be long for me now, so I'm seeing some sights before I go. On Sunday I went to Makoko, a village built on stilts over top of Lagos lagoon. (Check out the google map, which is quite fascinating, here.) It is home to an estimated 20,000 people, most of whom make a living fishing or digging sand from the bottom of the lagoon for use in the construction trade.

As I walked toward the lagoon, the ground got muddier and muddier, and then I began walking on rickety wooden planks built over the water. Eventually the path came to an end. I paid a teenage boy named Michael $7 to show me the rest of the area in his family's dugout canoe.

Makoko is known for it dire poverty, but I apart from the flimsy houses, I didn't find it worse than many other areas of Lagos. There is electricity (when it works!), water is pumped out from the mainland, and I even saw a health clinic. Women paddle around selling bread and fabric. And, like most very poor neighborhoods I have been, the sense of community is incredibly strong. You will hear more children laughing in a place like Makoko than the richest suburb in the world. And it is very peaceful to be on the water. I had a wonderful time.

Of course, things are never so simple. Instead of promoting Makoko as a tourist attraction,as it should, the Lagos government has given the residents eviction notices, according to one man I spoke to. Its hard to believe the authorities would destroy such a vibrant and proud community. But, like with street vendors here, the poorest people make the easiest targets. And it wouldn’t be the first time it happened – Amnesty International wrote this report about forced evictions in Makoko in 2005.

Gooooaaaaall!

2009-05-28T02:25:00.000-07:00

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I have mixed feelings about being back in Lagos, but it was fun to be here last night to watch Barcelona's victory over Manchester United for the European Cup.

Soccer is huge in Nigeria. Every man and boy in the country seems to be an excellent player, as I know from personal experience on the patches of dirt that pass for fields in Lagos. And watching the English premier league games is the national pastime, especially on Sundays, when all the men gather in makeshift shanties or on rooftops, where for 30 cents you can watch Liverpool or Arsenal or Chelsea all afternoon.

After the games there is euphoria in the streets, with teenage boys chanting, singing, and running every which way. It seems out of place -- as if all their daily frustrations and suffering are channeled back into this one expression of joy. I took this picture in Turkey last week after a big game there, but it could have been taken last night in Lagos or Rome or any number of other places around the world.

UPDATE: Ok, maybe it wasn't so much fun for everyone: just saw this article now.

For your shopping pleasure

2009-05-21T00:03:00.000-07:00

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First, I want to apologize for the lack of posts lately. I went to Berlin last week for a great conference on street entrepreneurship, and now I am in Istanbul, where I stopped over for a little R&R before heading back to Lagos for my final two months.

One of the themes at the conference was the difference between street vendors and markets and how there is a continuum betweent the two. A "market" can be a few vendors lined in a row on the sidewalk, or it can be an highly planned space like Reading Terminal in Philadelphia or Pike Place in Seattle.

This is a mock-up of the new Tejuosho market in Yaba, which burned down in late 2007 and is currently being rebuilt to look like this. It shows that the Lagos authorities equate "market" with something akin to a Las Vegas shopping mall. I am no architectural critic, but I can tell you that their vision for Tejuosho market does not reflect Africa or Nigeria in any way imaginable. Except those do look like banana trees in front.

Time will tell whether it becomes "the pride of every Lagosian" or a white elephant, like the huge Tinapa project in Eastern Nigeria that was billed as "the next Dubai" when it opened last year and now apparently sits empty.

You can probably guess which outcome I would put my money on.

Export woes

2009-05-15T01:48:00.000-07:00

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Why do you see "Made in China" and "Made in Guatemala" and "Made in Sri Lanka" on everything you buy in the US, but never, for example, "Made in Nigeria?" Everyone knows that export manufacturing is all about cheap labor costs, and as I learned in this great World Bank report, Africa Can Compete, labor costs in Africa are the cheapest in the world, even adjusted for productivity. Which makes sense, since 14 of the world's 15 poorest countries are in Africa (the other is Yemen).

So what's going on? Why doesn't some good capitalist open a trinket or t-shirt factory in Lagos and put some of these out-of-work street vendors to work? This woman might like a more stable income:

As the report details, many of the reasons its so difficult to export goods from Africa are what I would call chicken-and-egg issues. For example, the import/export business relies on payment by letters of credit, but African banks take forever to issue them because they are not used to doing it. If there was more export trade, banks would improve their letter-of-credit efficiency, encouraging still more export.

But most of it can be pinned on inept African governments. A lack of paved roads means that, during the rainy season, some exporters have to ship their goods by air, which is much more expensive. Transaction fees are often excessive -- port loading fees in Cote d'Ivoire are ten times what they are in Tawain. Finally, African governments have not done a good job of marketing themselves. This article about the 2009 Abuja (Nigeria) Trade Fair will give you some idea why U.S. and European importers would rather just buy from Asia.

Birthday wishes

2009-05-13T07:45:00.000-07:00

I sent this birthday video to my sister, but I thought some of you may be interested in seeing it as well.

Life is a battlefield

2009-05-07T01:01:00.000-07:00

I've been doing some interesting historical research at the University of Lagos library. One thing I've learned is that the Kick Against Indiscipline (KAI) is a recent revival of the War Against Indiscipline (WAI) that the Nigerian government launched in the mid-80's under military dictator Muhammadu Buhari.

Whereas KAI's main priority is street trading, WAI was a much broader social reprogramming effort to get the general Nigerian population to be more courteous, honest, and orderly. It focused on things like reckless driving, rumor-mongering, the buying and selling of chieftancy titles (!), and the mysterious practice of "cash-spraying," which apparently is a way of showing off at parties by throwing money around the room and watching people dive for it. They even made you do frog leaps if you were late for work!

But the language and trappings of war remain. For example, I attended a KAI "parade" this weekend where the KAI Marshal General, a former army captain, announced to his troops, below: "You are not civilians! You are a paramilitary organization!" He has used this language before.

Does anyone find this alarming?

Yam man? Yeah, man!

2009-05-06T00:57:00.000-07:00

This is a very common sight in Lagos -- a young man pushing a wheelbarrow of yams down the road. Where are you going, yam pusher? How heavy is that? And isn't there an easier way to get those yams from point A to point B, like with a truck? I never wanted to interrupt a hard-toiling yam pusher with such silly questions, but yesterday I solved the puzzle with the help of Said, a yam seller from Kano state.
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The yam pushers are coming from the Mile 12 wholesale market, which is a long way away from Ikeja, where I met Said yesterday. Each seller has a particular route of houses and compounds he goes to, selling the yams door-to-door. This makes sense: yams are so heavy that most women would not want to carry them home from market. Why not get a pick-up truck? As far as I could tell, so long as there are enough guys like Said willing to push yams for a few bucks a day, the economics of getting a truck just don't make sense.

BTW, I wouldn't categorize the yam pushers as "street vendors" since they are not exactly transacting their business in public, but they are not far off. Certainly the yam sellers are an important part of the informal economy (and food delivery system) of Lagos.
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A fresh coat

2009-05-02T01:50:00.000-07:00

My favorite idea for a Nigerian stimulus package came from CLEEN's director Innocent Chukwuma, who suggested an ordinance requiring all property owners to paint their houses and shops. Think of what this would do for job creation and for the paint industry.

To say nothing of beautification. As it is, the only painted structures are the houses of rich people and stores that serve as billboards for various Nigerian consumer brands. Sometimes among a sea of grey-brown houses you'll see one painted bright green, part of a deal with Glo, the big mobile phone company here. Sometimes a whole apartment building will be covered. And I love this shop on my street, whose paint job was sponsored by Indomie, a brand of instant noodles similar to Ramen in the U.S.

Maybe these ads are appealing to me because they seem so old-fashioned. But this is one area where I will not be complaining about the crass commercialization of public space. More visual clutter, please!

Suya mia!

2009-04-30T00:48:00.000-07:00

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While vendors sell staples like bread, onions and palm oil everywhere here, options for cooked, ready-to-eat street foods are somewhat limited . You do see roasted plantains, fried yam, and now, with the rainy season coming, a lot of excellent roasted corn.

And suya. This spicy barbecued beef, a specialty of the Hausa tribe from northern Nigeria, really stands apart. Served with onions and cayenne pepper, I would put any suya-man here up against the best Vendy Award finalists. Its that good, especially with a Star beer to wash it down.

Suya sellers rarely come out before sundown, which makes it hard to take pictures, but I came across a sort of suya wholesale operation yesterday in Ogba. My apologies to the vegetarians!

Count your blessings

2009-04-28T00:23:00.000-07:00

Speaking to vendors here, I hear the same heartbreaking stories over and over again. So often, the stories involve school fees and the need to raise them, either for oneself or for one's children.

This is Blessing Akpa. She's 19 years old, from Ebonyi state in Eastern Nigeria. Her father died when she was young, and ever since her mother died, in 2004, she's been selling pomo (cooked cow skin, aka shoe leather) on the street to pay school fees for herself and her three younger siblings. She makes about $7 a day.

KAI arrested her yesterday and brought her to court, where I met her. Today, she'll go before the magistrate, who will probably impose a sentence of 10,000 naira (about $70) or a month in jail. Hopefully, her uncle will be able to raise the money; otherwise she'll spend a month at Kirikiri prison, where one vendor told me the cells are packed so tight that "you breathe out, the person next to you breathes the same air in."

Fun on 3 wheels

2009-04-24T02:22:00.000-07:00

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This is Hafeez, the keke driver who brought me back yesterday from Alausa, where I've been spending a lot of time trying to get meetings with various government and court officials.

The keke is a beautiful thing. Its a 3-wheel scooter taxi that fits three passengers, four in a pinch. It has all the advantages of the okada motorcyle taxi (manueverabilty in traffic, good ventilation) without the blood-curdling fear that an okada ride often entails. And it costs just a few naira more than a danfo (minibus taxi) ride, where you are crammed in with 20 other sweaty passengers, at least one of whom invariably gets in an argument with the "conductor" over the conductor's inability to make change.

Who invented this little machine? The keke is actuallly a recent import from India, part of a Nigerian government program of "poverty alleviation" that started in 2002. I'm not sure how giving away a few thousand scooters is going to alleviate poverty, but I do recommend taking a keke whenever possible in Nigeria.

As for Hafeez, he was the nicest guy ever. When he dropped me off, he refused to take any money for the fare. But I insisted. Giving free rides to Americans is no way out of poverty, Hafeez. But thanks anyway.

Got petrol?

2009-04-21T00:47:00.000-07:00

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Lagos is in the midst of a big gasoline shortage right now. Interestingly enough, its a direct result of the same "get tough" approach by the Fashola government I have been writing about.

Its very common to see tractor trailers and fuel trucks lined up along the expressway here, especially near the port. I never understood why they parked there (their companies don't provide parking lots?) but never gave it much thought.

Well, last week, the Fashola government impounded a bunch of these illegally-parked tankers and arrested the drivers. In response, the drivers went on strike, demanding the return of the vehicles and refusing to pay any fines or deliver any fuel in the meantime. The two sides are now at a stand-off, leading to a gas shortage and scrums at filling stations like this:
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I don't like to see people inconvenienced, but frankly I don't think a little gas shortage is such a bad thing. Anything to wean the country off its addiction to petroleum. The government gets more than 80% of its revenues from the oil industry, creating all kinds of problems, and subsidized gasoline is considered a birthrite.

UPDATE: Crisis averted: aparently the oil companies stepped in.

It all falls down

2009-04-18T05:16:00.000-07:00

..
Buildings seem to be falling down every few days in Lagos, where code enforcement is lax, if it exists at all. Many landlords apparently add an extra third or fourth level onto a structure built for two. Eleven people died in a big collapse a couple weeks ago, and several more this week. And Lagos was the site of this crazy collapse in 2007. Perhaps the building of multi-level structures is one place not to trust the informal economy.

Luckily, the Lagos State government has its priorities in order. These carrots and cucumbers will not be a menace to anyone. The KAI brigade seized them from a street vendor in Agege yesterday, and I was there when they booked the guilty vegetables at headquarters. I couldn't stay long, though -- I had to rush home to make a big pot of carrot soup!
.

Mega-questions

2009-04-15T00:50:00.000-07:00

..

One term that I hear a lot here is "megacity." As in, "Fashola is getting rid of the hawkers and traders because he wants to make Lagos a megacity." I saw it again today in this article, reporting on more demolitions in nearby Agege.

By definition, a megacity is a simply one with a population of 10 million or more (characterized by rapid growth and social fragmentation). So, Lagos is already a megacity, whether it likes it or not. But the Fashola administration has cleverly adopted this word to appeal to Lagosian's desire to make their city better. After all, who would want to keep their city from being a megacity?

Its also the kind of word that can be used to justify almost anything. Arresting women for selling bread by the side of the road? Sorry - part of our Megacity Project. Rounding up poor people on the street and dumping them outside the city boundaries? Too bad -- we're making Lagos a megacity!

Mega-mess? Again, the socialists seem to be providing one of the rare voices of dissent, like in this powerful article.

Youth of the world

2009-04-13T04:50:00.000-07:00

The best thing about travelling in Africa is the kids. Wherever you go, there are lots and lots of them, and they are always very excited to meet a foreigner. They don't get much attention from adults, so they are thrilled if you take time to play with them, or ask them questions, or chase them around. Sometimes the younger ones get scared, and cry, and then the older ones laugh at the younger ones crying. Its great fun. Also, African kids are never spoiled -- you never hear them whine.

What's not to love? Look at these adorable youngsters I met at the Islamic school in the town of Ede, where I spent the Easter weekend with my friend Tope and his family.

Asian fetish

2009-04-08T03:43:00.000-07:00

For some strange reason, many Nigerians think I look Chinese. Sometimes they will call out "Chinaman!" as I walk by on the street, or speak in mock Chinese behind my back. Today I had someone ask me, straight out, "are you a Chinese man?"

Chinese man?? Never in my life had I once been mistaken for an Asian, and here it happens every couple of days. I've seen a handful of Chinese businessmen here (although Chinese investment in Africa is dropping now, according to this NY Times article), but nothing to explain the pattern of mistaken ID.

Even now, my best explanation is this: with no tourists, Nigeria is incredibly isolated. If you avoid a few fancy hotels and upscale Victoria Island, you can easily live or travel here for weeks without seeing another oyibo (white person) or Asian, for that matter. If you were born in Nigeria, never left, and never see any foreigners, China might as well be the U.S. or Europe to you. Either way, sadly enough, you are never going there, and you are probably never going to speak to a person from there in your lifetime. Thus the confusion.

Market failure?

2009-04-03T00:17:00.000-07:00

I visited Lagos' two biggest markets this week to get a better understanding of the interplay between market traders (who sell from stalls in designated markets) and street vendors (who sell from tables/carts/blankets/their own hands along the side of the road).

Boundary is a huge retail market in Ajegunle, one of Lagos' densest and poorest neighborhoods. Mile 12 is the wholesale market where foodstuffs coming down from the North are sold before being distributed all over the city. 700 tons of tomatoes move through Mile 12 every day. Imagine an area the size of a football field full of baskets like this: that is just the tomato section.

Everybody loves markets, myself included. They are like little villages, with grandma sleeping in the corner and kids running all around. And the prices are great -- at Mile 12 I paid a dollar for a huge sack of peppers and onions I'll be eating all week.

The problem is that markets are often presented as an easy alternative to street vending. This was done by Mayors LaGuardia and Giuliani in New York, and now it is being done by Governor Fashola of Lagos. And the idea does have some appeal. "Let's move these traders off the street and into markets, where they will have a roof over their heads and be able to lock up their merchandise at night." Sounds great, right?

But its never that simple. Invariably there is never enough space in the markets or the space is too expensive for the street traders, who are only on the street, after all, because they can't afford to rent stores.

And this seems to be the case in Lagos. For example, one of the market leaders at Boundary described an idyllic "open area" inside the market where anyone could sell their goods for 15 cents a day. I was enthralled. But when we got there, the tiny junction was crammed full. And when I asked a fish vendor there how she got her space, she said that her boss (one of the stall owners) had put her there. Not exactly what I had in mind!

Faded glory

2009-04-02T23:34:00.000-07:00

This is a classic Lagos sign:

I have ten naira for the first person to decipher it.

UPDATE: Well, I'm disappointed nobody tried that one. It says "Lagos State Government, Repainting of Office Blocks, Lagos State Ministry of Works, [some paint company]"

Study in contrasts

2009-03-31T02:52:00.000-07:00

Here's a shot of the railroad tracks in Oshodi, before and after the area's recent transformation. (Notice the same mango tree down the tracks to the right.) The vendors would move their wares aside twice a day when the train rolled by, then move right back and resume selling.

During the last 3 months, the Lagos State government has embarked on an agressive and high-profile effort to rid the city of hawkers and street traders, including those in famously-congested Oshodi.

Which city would you rather live in? Perhaps neither? Perhaps something in between these two extremes?

Speaking of photos, I am posting some of my favorite pictures of Lagos street vendors here.

Discipline thyself!

2009-03-28T00:10:00.000-07:00

You've heard of the ten commandments of love? Well, I hereby give you the Lagos State Government’s 9 Commandments of Discipline, which I saw on a poster at KAI headquarters yesterday.

Thou shalt not use bad habits of environmental sanitation, spitting, defecating, urinating in public, street trading, or public fighting
Thou shalt not dump refuse anyhow
Thou shalt not erect illegal structures
Thou shalt not paste posters anyhow
Thou shalt not cut across tarred roads
Thou shalt not improperly dispose of pure water nylon anyhow
Thou shalt not use bad sanitary habits at markets
Thou shalt not use poor home and office hygiene
Thou shalt not make traffic problems, poor parking, etc.

Hmmm. Which of these offenses listed above is not like the others?

Child abuse or entrepreneurial training?

2009-03-26T01:40:00.000-07:00

Here a vendor-related question I never faced in New York: is it appropriate for children to be selling on the street? Its quite common to see youth, even younger than this girl, selling things on the side of the road -- and sometimes in the middle of the road, between lanes of stalled traffic. The whole topic is one that drives many childrens' advocates crazy.

Clearly these kids should be in school -- in fact there is a law here banning children from hawking during school hours.

But what about about after school, which is much more common? These youths are making extra money to help their very poor families -- nothing wrong with that. You often see teenage girls working alongside their mothers in the street markets, which I suppose is a good form of supervision/family bonding. And they must be learning some business skills, right?

I suppose it depends on how young the child, how many hours a week they are hawking, and what other after-school options they have. I'm not seeing a lot of ballet or karate schools around the neighborhood. And, unlike their American counterparts, these kids can't go home to watch TV and play video games.

Okada power!

2009-03-22T11:53:00.000-07:00

Unlike street hawkers and traders in Lagos, who have no union or association to speak of, the okada (motorcycle taxi) riders here are well-organized. To understand how they got to be so strong, I met with the local branch of the Okada Riders' Welfare Association (one of 4 similar organizations in Lagos) today. It was fascinating.

The Ojota branch, part of a national association, has about 200 active members, each of whom pays $1 in daily dues to the organization and 35 cents (by purchasing a daily "ticket") to the local government. The organization represents the riders in dealings with the government, resolves disputes between riders and customers, and staffs members to manage the queues, where the okadas line up to wait for fares at busy corners. It's quite impressive.

The key to the union's power is that it is sanctioned by the local government (much like street vendor associations are in Mexico City) so it has the force of law behind it. If a non-member poaches into their territory, union members can arrest him on the spot and take him to the police precinct! Sounds effective. And all that time we spend coaxing SVP members into paying their dues...

But the drivers get their money's worth, as the government seems to appreciate dealing with an organized group. Recently, when an okada was snatching purses in the area, the police came to the union, who promptly found the thief and turned him in. If KAI has a concern, they bring it to the association, which calls an emergnecy meeting to notify the drivers. In return, the okadas get to operate from designated pick-up areas in prime public space.

What's the lesson here? You ride the back of my okada, I'll ride the back of yours?

Lagos, USA

2009-03-20T00:38:00.000-07:00

Lest I be accused of being overly pro-hawker, I am spending plenty of time getting the perspective of the hard-working men and women who are charged with enforcing Lagos' ban on street trading. Here I am with KAI Commander Ajay Oluwafemi yesterday in Oshodi, which is the front line in the government's war on vendors.

Commander Oluwafemi expressed his dream to me that one day, "everywhere here will be like New York." This is something I hear a lot -- the desire to make Lagos more like cities in the West. It reminded me of a very similar statement by some Lagos police officers in this excellent Current TV video I've been meaning to post for a while.

As a New Yorker, I can appreciate the sentiment. But here is what is puzzling and backward to me: why chase after street vendors to make Lagos more like New York? In fact, as I tell Lagos vendors, to their astonishment, we have thousands of vendors in New York! Why not build an excellent subway system, like we have in New York, to reduce road congestion? Why not improve the water supply to make it as good as New York's famous water works?

There must be a million ways to make Lagos more like New York without stifling the one thing both cities are so well known for - their cultures of self-sufficiency, ambition, and bootstraps entrepreneurship. No?

Let there be light!

2009-03-16T09:33:00.000-07:00

While there is plenty about the Nigerian government to be critical of, I also want to give credit where due. It was good to see these light poles being erected down the main drag in Ojudu Berger today. Incidentally, the lighting will help the street traders by making their products more visible to customers after dark. Kudos to whomever is responsible!

UPDATE: Even better! They have now started installing the light fixtures themselves, and they are solar powered. Very cool. Good thing I held off on the snide comment about the power grid.

Free traders

2009-03-14T02:35:00.000-07:00

I went to the huge used clothing market in Agege today to answer a question that has been bugging me: why do so many hawkers and traders here (especially used-clothing sellers) journey to the neighboring Republic of Benin to get their merchandise? What could that tiny country possibly have that they don’t have here in Nigeria?

Answer: sensible trade policy. As I now understand, those vendors are not just going to Benin to buy things, but to smuggle them back in to Nigeria to sell. For example, in an effort to prop up the struggling domestic textile industry, the Nigeria government has banned the import of used clothing, most of which comes from the U.S. and Europe. That raggedy old t-shirt you donated to Salvation Army will probably end up in a market like this, to be unloaded in big bundles that look something like this:

So, instead of shipping the “okrika”, as it is called here, directly into Lagos’ huge port, it goes first to Benin, where it is bought by Benin middle-men, sold to Nigerian traders, smuggled over the border, and then resold again.

No doubt this is bad economic policy which does nothing to encourage poor Nigerians to buy the expensive, locally-made fabric, which apparently costs up to $20 per yard. In the global marketplace, Nigeria is no longer a competitive place to make textiles – while labor is cheap, local producers have to power their own generators and drill their own wells, among other expenses.

It also extracts a huge human toll on the vendors and traders who make the trip. Think of the time and money wasted on all those needless trips. It can also be dangerous. Seven people died last month when a van of rice being smuggled into Nigeria caught fire.

The Toilet post

2009-03-09T01:42:00.002-07:00

This smart and beautiful 11 year-old girl is Funke, who helps her mom after school collecting money at the DMT Toilet site near the Ojudu Berger bus stop. I met her last week after reading this NY Times article, which had me thinking a lot about different models for social change.

Public toilets in Nigeria? Yes indeed. DMT and its founder Isaac Durojaiye are doing it, and they've gotten much-deserved attention in the social entrepreneurship blogs I've been reading lately. What great work this company is doing -- creating jobs for young people like Funke while also providing a public service in a place like Lagos, where it is even harder to find a public toilet than in New York. (And where there are no Starbucks or Barnes & Nobles to fall back on.)

The Times piece does a decent job of describing the very interesting debate that is raging in social justice circles: whether the world's problems can better be solved through a non-profit organization or a for-profit business. "Social entrepreneurship," which usually implies a for-profit model, is very fashionable right now, but don't all successful businesses fill some social need: otherwise they would not be successful? What makes a company like DMT more worthy of commendation than, for example, Tiechang, the Chinese company that makes the cheap ($500) motorcycles Nigerians use for so much transport?

Interesting stuff. I'm not one to go against Nobel laureate Mohammed Yunnis, who has weighed in very persuasively against the for-profit model, at least when it comes to microfinance. But I doubt that Funke cares one way or the other -- she's got more important things to worry about.

How's the suspension?

2009-03-05T02:31:00.000-08:00

Traffic was bad heading into Ikeja today. But our danfo driver was not to be delayed. He simply pulled up onto the median strip and kept going. Even been 4-wheeling in a early 70's VW bus? It's kinda like this:

What's cooking?

2009-03-04T00:06:00.000-08:00

Somebody asked me what I am eating over here. So, here is a photo of yesterday's lunch:

This is about as typical Nigerian food as you can get. Those two beige balls are eba, made from cassava flour. You tear off little pieces and dip them in that sauce, which is a mixture of egusi (the green and white stuff on the bottom) and pepper soup (the red stuff on top). Delicious, and cheap -- this plate cost me about 35 cents!

I'm also learning to make egusi soup -- here is a recipe in case you want to try it at home, although of course it's much easier to make here, with all the ingredients available on any street corner.

Slim pickens

2009-03-03T06:00:00.000-08:00

George Packer's amazing 2006 article in the New Yorker, which I have shared with many people already, was a huge part of what inspired me to come to Lagos in the first place.

So I knew that sooner or later I would visit the municipal garbage dump Packer describes so vividly in his article. In fact, there is a large body of research out there on waste pickers/scavengers as members of the informal economy, although a more appropriate and respectful term would be "recyclers," since that's what these people do, as this article points out. In some places, they are organized -- there was even the First World Conference of Waste Pickers last year in Bogota.

Anyway, I went to the dump in Olusosun yesterday. It's much like Packer described -- vast rolling hills of garbage, with thousands of people scattered about carrying huge bundles of plastics, paper, metal and assorted other scraps. In some ways, I liked it. In Lagos, where everything is so tightly packed, it was nice to be out in the wide-open spaces, even if they were made of garbage. Away from the trucks, it was quiet. And it didn't smell so bad, either -- although everyone told me that on market days the smell is much worse.

Two guys showed me around -- Tare (aka "teacher") and Anayo (aka "little cool"). Anayo, pictured above, is actually not a trash picker, but a bread hawker who followed me down into the dump and hung around a while before we got to talking. He's 18, from Ebonyi State in the South East of Nigeria. He wants to be a musician.

Tare is a picker. He's 38, and he's trying to save $1,000 to open a barber shop in his home state in the Niger Delta region. As we were walking, he was constantly scanning the ground for anything that might be valuable. It takes skill to be a good garbage picker. For example, you have to be able to distinguish at a glance between a flip flop with a rubber sole, which may be worth a few pennies, and one with a synthetic sole, which is worthless. I sure couldn't tell the difference.

At one point Tare reached down excitedly. He'd found 1,000 naira, or about $7! He thanked God for looking over him and thanked me for bringing him luck. Good things happen to good people, Tare.

Hard knock life

2009-02-27T00:50:00.000-08:00

One song I've heard constantly since coming to Lagos is Hard Knock Life by Jay Z.

It's certainly a hard knock life for this guy, who works in a plantain chip "factory" near the waterfront in the Ebute Metta neighborhood. It's the most simple operation you can imagine. The plantains come in every week by boat. One boy in back peels them, cuts them up, and feeds them to this guy, who stands over these two very hot vats of oil all day (this was about as close as I could get without singeing my eyebrows). A woman works in front, arranging packaging and delivery to the wholesalers.

I read today in Africa Rising that the informal economy makes up more than 55% of Nigeria's total economy. With operations like this, which are everywhere, I'm surprised it's not more.

A green revolution?

2009-02-24T03:09:00.000-08:00

These men in green are KAI (Kick Against Indiscipline) officers, who drove by yesterday as I was talking to some vendors in the Ojuelegba neighborhood. Their job is to arrest the traders and confiscate their merchandise, and they have been coming by daily the last couple weeks, according to the vendors. Luckily for them, the vendors had been tipped off by a passing danfo (taxi van) driver that KAI was coming, giving them time to pack up their stuff and run onto private property.

Apparently this kind of warning happens frequently; it's a very interesting collaboration between different players in the informal economy.

Another interesting thing: all the vendors I spoke to yesterday had previously sold inside the huge Tejuosho market, right across the street. It burned to the ground a little over a year ago and is currently being rebuilt. In the meantime, the vendors have nowhere to go except the sidewalk. They had a brief meeting while I was there and talked about going to the KAI headquarters to explain their plight. One of the women collected money from the other vendors for that purpose:

Seeing all those KAI officers crammed into that truck made me wonder if the Nigerian government is dedicating equal resources to catching real criminals. Certainly this kind of story is more damaging to the country's reputation than a million women selling fish or tomatoes by the roadside, no?

Mike squared

2009-02-20T17:10:00.000-08:00

Fan Milk is a Danish company that employs thousands of men and boys, on commission, to distribute their delicious ice milk and frozen yogurt products on the streets of Lagos and other West African cities.

I don't know if it's the heat or the fact that I am not getting much protein in my diet, but I am completely addicted to the Fan man and his frozen yogurt. I devour four or five of them (at 40 cents a pop) on the average day. All in the name of academic research, of course!

Today I met Michael (left) and Mike, two Fan men from Ghana. They left Ghana because the currency there is weaker and they are able to make a little more money in Nigeria. With no family here and few friends, they pay 75 cents a night to stay in a nearby hotel room. They suffer discrimination from Nigerians, many of whom resent the influx of foreigners here. But they have no plans to stick around Lagos -- the Mikes are on their way to Europe !

In three months, Mike will have saved enough of his yogurt commissions to try crossing the Sahara overland to Libya (Michael came a little later and needs more time). This is no easy trip -- many people get robbed in the desert and then, unable to buy water or pay for transport, die of thirst.

But if you get to Libya, you can get a job in construction that will pay in dollars, which you will need to pay the smuggler to get you, by boat, into Spain or Italy. That is the most dangerous leg. Boats capsize all the time. Nineteen African migrants died just this week trying to get to the Canary Islands.

"Wait," I said. "Even if you get to Italy, you are not going to have any work papers?" "No," Mike admitted.

"So you won't be able to get a good job?" "No."

"And you don't speak any Italian?" "No."

They recognized the problem. But they both knew people who had made it to Europe, to eventually marry European women and get their legal status. One guy worked in a morgue in Italy but when he came back to Ghana for a visit, he acted like a king. That's all they can hope for.

The Lagos Leap

2009-02-19T20:56:00.000-08:00

Nigeria has armed robbery, ethnic riots, and the kidnapping of foreigners. But by far the most dangerous thing I've seen here involves people just trying to get home from work.

In Ojudu Berger, where I live, the taxis and buses let you off on one side of the highway, but the town is on the other side, requiring a dash across traffic and a leap over a concrete barrier. It requires speed and athleticism. Here's what it looks like.

I spent about an hour watching and filming this ritual tonight, and I kept saying to myself "someone is going to get killed here." Thankfully I did not see that, but this woman came pretty close, wouldn't you say? Keep your eye on the woman in the red skirt.

But the award for the night has to go to this guy, handling the whole maneuver more gracefully (with one leg, while holding something in his non-crutch-hand!) than an Olympic steeplechase champion. Respect!

Serendipity

2009-02-17T00:33:00.000-08:00

Waiting for the Freedom Market traders yesterday at the House of Assembly, my sandal broke. That's what you get for $3 flip flops. Somebody directed me around the corner to a parking lot, where there was a group of about ten young men .... fixing sandals! This guy hooked me up for the equivalent of 75 cents.

Either there is a real problem with the quality of the sandals here in Nigeria or a real problem with employment. Or both.

Let it come down

2009-02-15T01:10:00.000-08:00

It rained today -- the first time I've seen rain since I started my trip. I was pretty excited.

In fact, one of the reasons I timed my trip January to July is because I wanted to experience some dry season (which is supposed to be now) and some wet season (starting around May). Last time I was in Africa it was dry the whole time, which is always recommended for travel but which I found oppressive after a while. Water is life.

Talk to me in June, though -- I may feel differently.

The Bosah-man

2009-02-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Today I met with Chinedu Bosah, who I emailed last week after reading a passionately pro-trader article he wrote online. Chinedu works for the Democratic Socialists' Movement here in Nigeria, where he heads up their activism around education rights.

Last week, while attending a teachers' march on the parliament building, Chinedu happened to run into a bunch of vendors who were protesting the rather Kafkaesque demolition of Freedom Market, in a nearby suburb. He went to the market site a couple days later and took some incredible photos of the destruction, which I've posted here.

It was great to talk to someone like Chinedu who cares about these issues and is trying to work on them, however understaffed his office may be. And it was good to see the traders taking action; I know how hard it is to organize street vendors. On the other hand, if 20,000 traders were displaced, that is a pretty paltry showing. Where is the public outrage? Why is this kind of story not being picked up in the international media, as Operation Murambatsvina rightly was?

The vendors are going to back to Parliament on Monday to present their demands. Chinedu invited me to tag along. It should be interesting.

Tunde on the bridge

2009-02-11T00:36:00.000-08:00

What happens to vendors when they are not allowed to vend? They become fishermen!

At least that's what Tunde did. I met him today on my way to the Embassy to pick up some money. He used to sell religious books at the Obalende motor park nearby, until the vendors there were shut down by the prior governor of Lagos, seven years ago.

Even since, he stands every day on the bridge between Lagos and Victoria Islands, about 50 feet above the water, where the tide rushes through a narrow point. That thing in his hand is a net, which he throws down when he sees a school of fish swim by. It didn't seem like a very efficient method to me, but what do I know? He said that on some very good days he could catch up to 50 fish, which he could sell for about $35. In Lagos, that's a lot of money.

Today was a poor fishing day, though. I sat with Tunde for a couple hours, but we didn't see any fish, so I didn't get to see him in action. The water was too dirty, he said. Indeed it was -- all kinds of stuff was boiling up from the depths.

"You ever see any dead bodies float by?" I asked him. Maybe I've been watching too much Sopranos lately (available everywhere here on bootleg DVD).

Yes, over the years, he'd seen a few. "What do you do, call the police?" No way -- he figured they would only show up and question him, and it would look suspicious. So Tunde just watches the corpses float on by.

Can you hear me now?

2009-02-07T00:50:00.000-08:00

As this wonderful article explains, cell phones are a big deal in Africa, where landline connections are unreliable or non-existent. Nigeria is no exception. A lot of people carry two or three cell phones, with different carriers, since coverage on any one can be spotty.

What interests me the most is how many people are self-employed in the cell phone business. Everywhere you look, there are vendors selling prepaid phone minutes. And there are other variations. This woman, Bissi, acts as a reseller by buying minutes in bulk and then reselling them to customers at a slightly cheaper rate than they would get using their own phones (15 naira a minute, or about 10 cents, instead of 20 naira). That red phone on her table, right next to those famous meat rolls, is a cell phone she purchased from the company.

And here is Akim, who I met today on Lagos Island. He runs a charging station for cell phone batteries. Why would you need to use Akim's charging station? Because the power grid only works here, in my experience, about 10% of the time. Unless you have a generator, or know someone like Akim, you are out of luck.

Incidentally, I now have a Nigerian cell phone, which you may be able to reach by dialing 234 (country code) 070-629-04014.

Not so apocalyptic

2009-02-05T03:13:00.000-08:00

With all my talk of market bulldozing, garbage, and ugliness, perhaps I have been too negative on Lagos.

In fact, there have been some notable improvements here in the last couple of years that have made real differences in people's lives. One is the public bus system, called Bus Rapid Transit or BRT. The BRT buses ply regular routes for a fixed ticket price, and they are loads more comfortable and orderly than fighting to get onto/being crammed into a danfo, as the beat-up VW transporters that provide the informal-economy alternative are called. The BRT is also quicker, as they use dedicated lanes set off by concrete dividers. In a city where many people spend 2-3 hours each day in "go-slows" (traffic jams), the system is hugely popular, and has rightly been winning praise. I take it whenever I go downtown.

Another new policy is the "Green Lagos" initiative, which involves reclaiming the areas within highway cloverleafs and planting trees and grass, as has been done here:

In a city where they don't understand or don't have a word for "park", it's nice to see some green. I wanted to drop down and roll around on this grass when I saw it. Maybe I will go back and have a picnic. And in a country where the leaders are known for doing nothing other than lining their own pockets, Fashola deserves credit for doing something.

But unlike the BRT, which I don't see any downside to, the Green Lagos idea is more complicated. These cloverleafs were not vacant land -- they were all being used by people as informal areas for car repair or metal work or cinder block manufacturing. The creation of these green spaces requires the displacement of jobs and people. And what struck me most about this park was that no one was using it. Are parks a bourgeois Western concept reserved for people who have the recreation time and money to enjoy them?

Even if you don't want to field that question, please comment if you are reading this! I will be eternally grateful.

Tip of the iceberg

2009-02-03T09:43:00.000-08:00

For such a suspect democracy, Nigeria has a thriving free press. You can buy up to a dozen newspapers on the street every day, including Punch, the Daily Sun, and the Guardian. All of them are interesting reads, and there are usually some hilarious headlines, like "When I kill a chicken, my husband eats the gizzards" and "I get compliments for having a flat tummy, but I don't have one!"

More importantly, the newspapers have been a great help to me as I begin my research. I have learned that the eviction of vendors last week in Ojudu Berger was not an isolated incident, but part of a huge campaign by Lagos State Governor Babatunde Fashola that has been taking place in markets all over Lagos this past month. It's being called the "Kick Against Indiscipline" or "KAI".

Here and here are some examples of the excellent reporting I have found online -- once I learned to search for "street trader" instead of "street vendor." There could be no more relevant time for me to be conducting this research. I really have my work cut out for me.

Emmanuel's facebook photo

2009-02-02T02:52:00.000-08:00

This smart, good-looking 18 year-old young man is Emmanuel, who I met today near the guest house. Emmanuel's mother sells food on the street, and I got to talking to him while eating some of his mom's fried yams.

Like nearly everyone here, Emmanuel wants to come to the States. He spends time in online chat rooms, practicing his English, which is excellent. But his biggest problem is that it's very hard to make friends online when they find out you are Nigerian.

When Emmanuel told me his Facebook picture is of some rapper, I asked him why he didn't have his own picture up. "That's very expensive," he said. So I snapped this picture and told him I would email him a copy. "It's that easy?" he asked. It's that easy, Emmanuel.

Garbage in, garbage out

2009-01-31T03:50:00.000-08:00

My biggest pet peeve is when store clerks automatically try to put whatever you are buying in a plastic bag. In New York, it is really annoying. In Nigeria, it should be criminal.

I was thinking about this because today -- the last Saturday of the month -- is Environmental Day here, when there is no movement allowed between 7 and 10 a.m., and everyone is supposed to clean up the area around their home.

Lagos is very dirty. There are no garbage baskets, so everyone just throws garbage on the ground or in the gutters. You can't really blame them. I will even admit that I have dropped a dripping frozen yogurt package on the ground once or twice already. But the worst culprits are plastic shopping bags. And, unlike in India, where you see the "untouchables" manuvering carts of refuse around each morning, there is little infrastructure in Nigeria for picking the trash up.
So, I was very interested in this social experiment . Were the Lagosian people just saving themselves for Environmental Day? Would they turn out and scrub their city clean?

Not really. I was underwhelmed. One thing that was effective was the no-traffic rule. Savior and I went for a run at 7 a.m., and it was true -- there was no one on the road. Police were out in full force to enforce the ban -- they even stopped us at one point and told us that we should be home cleaning. We talked our way out of it and finished a great run on the empty streets (below).

But the pick-up idea was less impressive. After the run I grabbed a bucket and rake and set out to clean the street in front of the office. Sadly, I was almost all alone. It seemed like most people used the morning to catch up on their sleep. Some boys played soccer in the street.

Nice as the idea of Environmental Day may be, trash removal is a classic government function. The Nigerian government can't get off so easy by expecting the people to do all the work -- especially because the people here are mostly struggling to survive. Maybe Nigeria needs a tax on plastic bags, which led to a 90% reduction in Ireland? Or maybe all the police we saw on the streets this morning should be deployed to clean the gutters instead?

Any thoughts?

A sad and shocking day

2009-01-29T12:12:00.000-08:00

I wrote in my Fulbright research proposal that vendors in Lagos "experience harsh crackdowns that include arrests, confiscation of merchandise, and violence." I wasn't completely sure how accurate that was. Until today.

After some web surfing in the morning (when the internet connection is quicker) I headed to the bus stop around noon for another trip to Lagos Island, where vendors congregate in greater numbers. I did not get far. A few hundred meters from home, I came across a scene of mass destruction: the Lagos police had come through hours before, bulldozing more than 100 vendor stalls right here in the relatively quiet suburb of Ojudu Berger. Groups of vendors stood around, watching their businesses be carted away. Groups of police stood around, looking over the wreckage.

I couldn't believe this was happening. Had they timed it for my arrival? I certainly did not want my research to be this relevant. I felt like a reporter at a disaster scene -- I began taking pictures and interviewing witnesses. Some residents took me up on a balcony to survey the scene from above. The atmosphere was tense. Two young men walked me down the street, away from the police, and told me what had happened: the new Lagos state government passed a regulation six months ago that no structure could exist within ten feet of the gutter -- even on private property. The police had come through two days ago to warn them, allowing them to remove their merchandise. Still, more than 200 people lost their jobs and businesses.

I spoke to Edith, shown here standing in front of the ruins of her business. She sold roasted plantains there for 12 years, supporting seven children. The police came at night and took her oven and all her equipment, including two boxes of plantains worth about $60. I asked her if they had any kind of union or association to work on this issue. She said "no." I asked her what she was going to do, she said "I don't know."

The vendors had no clue what to do. Groups of them gathered around me, hoping the oyibo (white guy) could help. What could I do? I encouraged them to schedule a meeting of all the people who had been affected, to make a plan, and offered to attend. Some seemed scared at that idea; others didn't think it would do any good. They are probably right. Here are the photos.

Zen and car maintenance

2009-01-28T14:34:00.000-08:00

Need to weld a new floor panel into your car, but don't have one of those fancy lifts we have here in the States? No problem. Just get some of your friends to flip the car on its side, a task I helped with today before taking this picture. Love it!

Pssssst! Bike!

2009-01-26T23:30:00.000-08:00

That's how you hail an okada, or motorcycle taxi, here in Lagos. You see them everywhere -- there must be millions of young men here who eke out a living ferrying people around on back of their bikes. They are known for being crazy drivers, and the exhaust their little 100 cc engines put out is a big source of the air pollution around here. But in a crowded city like Lagos, they make a lot more sense than the huge Ford Crown Victorias we have in New York.

I took my first okada ride today, on a shopping trip downtown. It was cheap and fun -- and a good way to cool off. And it reminded me of the international news okada drivers made this month (thanks to James for the original link) when they began wearing dried calabash shells on their heads to comply with the new helmet law that went into effect here on January 1st.

Funny story, right? Those crazy Nigerians wearing pumpkins on their heads! But this issue is really fascinating to me, and relevant to my research. It shows that, despite the reputation for lawlesness around here, the government was able to pass a law, and it is being enforced. I haven't seen any calabashi yet (maybe in more rural areas?), but 95% of the okada drivers do wear some form of helmet -- even if its one of those cheap plastic ones you see at construction sites in the U.S. How was this law passed? How is it being enforced? And what duty does the government have to help entrepreneurs when it imposes new regulation on them? After all, the okada drivers aren't wearing pumpkins as a joke -- they do it because they are trying to comply with the law and a pumpkin is all they can afford!

Pretty / ugly

2009-01-23T01:34:00.000-08:00

Compared with my first week in India, I've taken very few pictures so far in Lagos. I'm sure its partly due to aesthetics -- whereas India was run-down in a sort of weather-beaten, ancient, faded-kodachrome way, Lagos is just run down. Lots of brown dirt and grey-brown buildings. Thank god for the bright dresses the women wear -- otherwise there would be no color here at all. Here's a video of the busy corner where I catch the bus downtown.

Africa is also more familiar to me -- in part because I spent time here 10 years ago. And I know that I will be here for six months, so I have time to get to know the people, instead of just snapping their photos and running off.

Anyway, I didn't come to Lagos for the scenery. The people have really been wonderful. Today I took the bus downtown, where I did some wandering and tried to get my bearings. I have no goals for this first week other than to settle in. I asked at a stall for some shaving cream, where they didn't have any (they had "shaving powder": any guesses on what I do with that?) but where I met Joy (below), who led me through the narrow market stalls to a place where they did.

Joy told me a unfortunate story: in 2005, she won the visa lottery to immigrate to the U.S., but she didn't update her address, and by the time she got the letter with the good news, the deadline for submitting her paperwork had passed. How many people must have stories like Joy? She took me to a stall where they sell fruit wholesale to the smaller vendors. I took note - if I can ever find it again, I'll go back. I wandered by the High Court of Nigeria, through the Nigerian national cricket grounds, and back to the bus stop, where 120 naira (about 75 cents) got me the bus back to Ikeja easily by dark.

Embassy briefings and quality snacks

2009-01-21T09:43:00.000-08:00

This morning I had my appointment at the U.S. embassy for my medical screening and security briefing. After refusing to pick me up at the airport, I thought it was gutsy of them to demand my presence at 9:30 the next morning; I have no idea where I am, where I am going, or how to get there. Luckily, Innocent arranged a driver to take me down to the embassy, wait for me, and bring me back.

Things went smoothly. It’s a straight shot downtown and traffic was not bad – we arrived in about 45 minutes. Chinenye, the embassy cultural liaison, helped me get my official-looking U.S. Consulate ID (I later noticed they spelled my name “Basmski” but oh well). I got some free malaria pills from Felicia, the nurse. And I got a jargon-filled security briefing from Dave, who explained that Lagos is rated “critical risk” for security by the State Department, according to their grading system, which sounded about as useful as that color-coded terrorist watch system. Going through his slideshow, Dave warned me to never go to the mainland after dark. I did not tell him that I live on the mainland and would have a hard time avoiding being there after dark. But it was helpful nonetheless. Dave gave me the number to call if I am kidnapped or caught up in a civil disturbance. I will promptly enter it into my speed dial as soon as I get a cell phone.

I came back to CLEEN and logged onto the computer for a while -- they have a wireless network which will be very helpful, even though it is slow and shuts down when the office closes at 6 p.m. Afterward, Savior, the security guard, took me out to the main road to help me find some food and provisions. He bought a dried fish, which his sister was going to cook up with some rice. I declined on the fish – I wanted to explore the area a bit while it was still light out – it gets very dark here when night comes and the power goes out.

I stumbled through the crowds and traffic and horrible exhaust fumes and eventually assembled a meal of pineapple, cashews, warm Star beer and some highly-nutritious “Hotty” quality snacks. I feasted back at the guest house, in the dark.

Innocent and Barack

2009-01-20T09:25:00.000-08:00

I arrived into Lagos a few hours ago. My first impression? This place is a lot less chaotic and threatening than I thought it would be.

After all my hassles with the Nigerian embassy in New York, I was expecting a nightmare at the airport. But I sailed right through. The woman who stamped my passport was in fact very welcoming. I grabbed my bag, walked out the terminal, declined a few rides from taxi drivers, and found Lonry, from the CLEEN Foundation. We jumped in his card and headed to CLEEN. It was about ten times easier than arriving at JFK.

The CLEEN Foundation is my non-profit host, who have agreed to let me use their office space and network of contacts, and have also let me stay in their guest house, at least until I can get settled in. The founder of CLEEN, Innocent Chukwuma, is a superstar in the field of international human rights and democracy building. Among other things, he has been very good at raising money from prestigious foundations in the U.S., like MacArthur and Ford. I found CLEEN online, and met Innocent in New York last summer when he came though for a conference.

Clearly CLEEN is doing something right. And they have been extremely helpful. About a week ago, when the U.S. Embassy found out that CLEEN was located on the mainland, instead of the more upscale Victoria and Lagos Islands where most expats live, they backed out on their offer to pick me up at the airport, citing their “security protocols.” Within minutes, Innocent had sent me this email: “Sean, no problem. We’ll have someone there to pick you up at the airport.”

We got to the CLEEN compound, which is a brand-new, walled-off complex located in Ikeja, a Lagos suburb. No tourists here – this is where real Nigerians live. Innocent showed me to the guest house, in back of the complex, and helped me get settled in. There are no other interns or volunteers here now, so I get the guest house to myself. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean and safe and adequate. There is a full-time security guard. They have their own water and AC generators, which are critical here in Nigeria where the power grid is sporadic. There is a sitting room with a small TV that gets CNN and some local Nigerian stations. Innocent and I watched President Obama get sworn in.

Dubai on $4 a day

2009-01-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

My time in India was up. I took another overnight sleeper back to Delhi and flew to Dubai, where I had planned to spend the night before going on to Lagos. All the flights seem to go through Dubai nowadays. Besides, I figured it would be amusing to check out the futuristic and hedonistic city I’ve been hearing so much about -- both good (NY Times party destination 2008) and bad (massive exploitation of foreign workers).

One problem: I lost my ATM card, which doubles as my credit card, somewhere along the way. I had two choices: wait around a few days in India for a new card, missing my flight, or push on with whatever money I had. I knew I had just enough money to get out of India, and that my flight would arrive in Dubain at 3 p.m. which would hopefully give me enough time to find a Citibank for an emergency cash withdrawl.

Bad news: banks close in Dubai at 3:30, and our flight didn’t arrive until 4. I had $4 in my pocket and no way to get any more. Good news: when I asked for a Citibank at the Air Emirates counter, they offered me a hotel room for the night, with a free shuttle to and from and 3 meal vouchers.

The hotel was not as luxurious as I imagined, but there was a shuttle to the City Centre, which sounded promising. Sadly, “City Centre” was an American-style shopping mall amidst a maze of highways and construction sites. I had nowhere else to go. I wandered around the mall looking for free internet access. Finally a woman in the coffee shop took pity on me and gave me their wi-fi access code. What a strange, soulless place. I took the shuttle back to the hotel, just in time for the buffet dinner.

Do Indian dogs go woof?

2009-01-18T06:30:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I volunteered at the Animal Aid Unlimited, a hospital and shelter a few miles outside of Udaipur. It was founded by an American couple from Seattle, Erika Abrams and Jim Myers, and is an incorporated 501©(3) in the U.S., where they raise most of the $8,000 a month it takes to keep the place running.

And what an impressive place is it. By last count they had 53 dogs (not counting the puppies that were born while I was there), 7 cows, 3 cats, 2 monkeys, 4 horses, a bunch of pigeons, and a few other assorted beasts – all cared for by a team of 3 vets and about 15 support staff who look after the animals. They also do a great job of recruiting western volunteers; the woman from Canada who showed me around was staying for a whole month.

Due to their numbers, dogs are the focus. Every day they get calls from the community about injured or sick street dogs. A team goes out to catch these wounded animals (which isn’t easy – apparently every street dog in town runs when it see the big white van pull up!). They bring ‘em in, fix ‘em up, and, when and if they get strong enough, send them back to the streets. The locals are quite happy to have their neighborhood dogs back.

My job was to walk some dogs (who are often in such bad shape they don’t want to walk) cuddle some puppies, and admire the work that goes on there. It felt great after all my sightseeing to actually get involved, and with such important work.

Check out my photos and also please visit their excellent website. Please consider making a donation to the shelter if you can. I can testify to the excellent work they are doing with very little.

Running after women

2009-01-17T04:14:00.000-08:00

I admit it. When I go running, I wear rather short running shorts. Just like I don't like things constricting my feet, I don't like things encumbering my legs when I go running. I never have. Sometimes I even get funny looks in Central Park.

So you can imagine the scandal it caused yesterday when I went running for the first time in India. I don't know if it was my short shorts or just the fact that a tall bald white man was sprinting down the main drag, but I caused quite a stir, with men pointing, women blushing, and kids not sure what to do, since they had never seen anything like this in their lifetime.

Despite Slumdog Millionaire and everything we hear about the high-tech industry here, India is still a very conservative place. In the streets and markets of Delhi, for example, easily 90% of the people you see in public are men. Where are the women? Most are hidden away inside courtyards or residential neighborhoods. When I took the subway once, I got to see how many women are up on the rooftops with the laundry. And almost all the women still wear saris and many other versions of colorful flowing garments. Again, I have seen a tiny piece of this country, but the women I have seen wearing jeans or other obviously Western gear here I could count on one hand.

In a rickshaw in Delhi once I looked up at the buildings (there is so much going on in the streets you never look up!) and saw a number of women looking down from windows and balconies. See if you can find the women here -- I really had to zoom in to get this shot.

On the Lonely Planet trail

2009-01-16T00:31:00.000-08:00

It wouldn't feel right to come this vast country and spend my whole time in Delhi. So Wednesday morning I got the train to Agra for an obligatory stop at the Taj Majal, three hours away. Remember what I wrote about there not being a lot of tourists in India? Retract that statement. Much of Agra's economy is built around Taj Majal visitors, Indian and Western alike. You must have great patience for the question, "which country you from?" -- I heard it dozens of times. But I'm happy I went. It really was a spectacular building, and one thing checked off the life list. Plus, I think this will make a good facebook photo.

After a day in Agra, I took the overnight sleeper train to Udaipur, in Rajashtan, where there is a bustling trade in leather goods and fabrics, as well as yoga sessions, cooking classes, and screenings of James Bond's "Octopussy" which made this place famous.

One of the shopkeepers speculated that, with the terrorist bombings in November, tourists don't feel safe in Mumbai or Delhi, but they still come to Udaipur, supposedly the most "romantic" city in India, although I'm not totally sure what that means.

BTW I posted some of the photos I took of street vendors in Delhi here. Have a look.

Lending a hand

2009-01-13T07:14:00.000-08:00

Since my Hindi is weak (nonexistent) one of the ways I've been connecting with people is to jump in and help them with their various manual labors. This is a good technique. You can imagine what a joyous scene this creates, with everyone gathering around, kids laughing, etc. as the American jumps in to make a fool of himself.

The first day I helped some guys who were digging a ditch by hand in the old quarter. I grabbed the sledgehammer and started whacking away (first you have to loosen up the ground with the sledgehammer before using the pick). It was a good workout. Then I tried to help some men who were doing a small-scale assembly project of school folders -- they were gluing strips on the ends. One guy would dip the strap in glue, one guy would attach it, and the third guy would fold it over. I think I messed up their rhythm -- they gave me a puppy that was nearby and cut me out of the second round. But I think they appreciated the effort. Lets see if this video comes through.

It made me think that a lot of the time we see "Made in India" on something, the work is not being done in huge factories, but tiny little shops and side alleys like this one. Today some guys were struggling loading up their huge cart in the spice market, so I jumped in to help with the lifting. One of the kids sat on the very top when we were done and I got this picture:

Don't know how much I am helping, but I believe I am offering these hard-working Indian people a valuable service: comic relief.

What, no double chai skim lattes?

2009-01-12T18:46:00.000-08:00

Walking around Delhi all day can be exhausting -- there are no Starbucks to chill out and seek refuge from the crazy streets. (There are plenty of street chai sellers, but you usually have to stand). In fact, there is nothing even vaguely resembling a Starbucks.

I've been surprised at how un-westernized India is -- at least the neighborhoods where I have been hanging out. There are no American stores, brands or advertising. Very few of the people speak more than a few words of English - most speak not a word. And, apart from the area right around my hotel, I've only seen 2 or 3 western tourists in 3 days of wandering the streets and markets. Its pretty refreshing, but a little frustrating to not be able to communicate. I've mostly travelled in Spanish-speaking countries, where I can get by with my high-school Spanish, or Francophone countries, where I can get by. This is a new challenge.

BTW, I just figured out how to upload photos -- please check out my Fuzzy Vest series here. And please comment on this blog, so I know someone is reading it. Use a fake name if you must.

Not in Nigeria yet

2009-01-11T18:53:00.000-08:00

Not there yet -- I'm in New Delhi, getting mentally ready for Lagos. A good chance to practice my blogging before I hit the ground in Nigeria. Two days have felt like forever, in a good way. The most incredible thing about Delhi is the street life. Its Where's Waldo in real time. Over here a vendor is boiling chai, there some guys are welding metal in a roadside workshop, there a barber is giving a shave on the sidewalk, in the corner are some women huddling by a little fire they built, in front of you laborers are resting on their pull-carts. People are rushing by carrying all kinds of ridiculoulsly large bundles. Its hard to take it all -- and thrilling. Yesterday I got a bicycle rickshaw ride (there are 600,000 rickshaw pullers in Delhi) through half the city, careeening through markets, a herd of cows running beside us at one point -- I couldn't stop laughing at the madness.

More tales from Delhi later -- just wanted to get my feet wet now with a first short post.