NIGERIA

ROME AT LAST

Now I come to some of the experiences I had in Nigeria and other overseas countries.
After spending a few weeks in Onitsha, Nigeria, where my brother, Umesh, had invited us, and Basanti was offered an English-conversation-teaching job, attracting much-needed foreign exchange, I alone was on my way to India for offering my resignation and starting a new life in Nigeria. The Alitalia flight from Lagos was via Rome; the very names, Rome, Italy, Europe were thrilling. For a long time it was my ambition which was about to be fulfilled. I had spent hours under the blue sky at Sunderbani praying fervently for a trip to Europe. My wish was about to be fulfilled; I had to take the last step. It was inexplicably thrilling and exciting. Movies like 'Roman Holiday' and 'Three Coins in the Fountain' flashed past.

Murtala Muhammed International Airport Lagos at the time of our scheduled flight was not crowded at all. It was a huge air port, most of it appeared to be deserted; many electric lights had been switched off. Only the Alitalia counter and the area around it, the entrance gates to the Immigration, and the security check areas were lit up and active. The rest of the huge hall was deserted and frightening, at least for the new comers.

1.   The foreign exchange that I had brought from India was still unspent, even the share of Basanti was with me. To top it, Umesh had given some dollars in small denominations. Everyone had warned me that the Immigration were very strict; the form printed in very minute, difficult-to-read letters had to be filled up accurately. Any error in declaring foreign exchange could attract cognizable offence.

These were not empty threats. During our stay in Onitsha an incident took place, later the duly exaggerated gossip-entertainment for the entire Indian community there. One early morning Umesh received a call that one Indian, we'll call him Shyam Sharan to conceal his identity, was seriously sick and needed urgent medical attention. Umesh rushed there only to find that he was not allowed to get inside the house since the Immigration people had sealed the house. After a long argument and explanation, he was allowed inside for the urgent medical check-up. Shyam was lying on the sofa and the house was filled up with the Immigration staff searching the house thoroughly. During the examination, Shyam whispered in Hindi in the ears of Umesh,

'They have confiscated all the foreign exchange that we had in our drawers, cupboards and other places. The only one they have not detected is in the canister in the kitchen containing wheat flour. Please take that away and I would collect later from you.'   Umesh saw no chance under the watchful eyes of the Nigerian staff milling around in all the corners, so he declined and left. Before lunch, Shyam and family were escorted to the airport wearing their personal clothes only and deported. Immigration was a very powerful institution. A mere nod from them meant immediate deportation.

2.     I found a secluded counter in a dim light where I took out all the small denomination notes and tried to count these. Just then a dignified looking young Nigerian well-dressed in a three piece suit with a bold identity card with his photo hanging from his neck came to me. 'Sir, I am the authorised travel agent for our well reputed company, Unilever. Here is my visiting card'.
The card of the reputed multinational was impressive giving all the address, telephones, Fax.
'The officers of my company have just left. My duties are to help them at the Immigration. As I was returning, I saw you, so I thought I may help you.'
I looked at him casually, 'Oh no. I don't think I need any help. Thank you very much. Next time, if a need arises, I will contact you.'
'That's fine, Sir. But please remember the Immigration staffs are very strict. A small mistake can land you in a big trouble including gaol.'
Again I insisted, 'No, Thanks. I'll manage'.
'Sir, I'm from a respectable company so the staffs at the airport know me well. You can ask anyone. As a special case, for a minimum commission of twenty dollars, I would help you in the immigration. You would have no problem'.
I calculated twenty dollars equivalent to two hundred and sixty rupees.
'No, Thanks', and I started filling the form.
He turned away and moved a few steps again to return.
'Sir, on the Immigration counter there is a long line and it would take you a very long time to clear. I would ensure that you check in within no time.'
I looked over him again. He appeared to be a sincere gentleman from a reputed company in need of a few dollars, but not a deceitful tout, the type we encountered in India. I agreed to commission him for twenty dollars.
'Sir, you don't have to write these small notes. Just write the larger currency notes.'
I took my wallet out and started counting.
'Sir, there is a better way. You enter Nil. I would accompany you. At the immigration hand over all the foreign currency to me and I would return to you as soon as you have checked in'.
Like a gullible, fool I agreed.
At the entrance all the security staff would salute him; I felt re-assured. It was only later on I learnt that he would give them a huge tip of five dollars each.

At the Immigration counter there were few only. I was standing in the line and he stood next to me. As I moved ahead he moved further, a little away from me. At the counter I pushed my passport and the form; I saw him standing close but on one side. In no time they stamped my passport, but he had disappeared. I proceeded further expecting to meet him there, may be at some duty-free shop or restaurant. Not traceable, then only the trickery dawned on me. Over-excited for the first trip to Europe, beginning with Rome, I had not one cent even. The choice was to go back to Onitsha, collect a few dollars and fly after a week. The second option was to depend upon the hotel and taxi vouchers provided by the Airline and continue. I chose the second option.

Inside the aircraft, just putting on a Terylene shirt, I was shivering; luckily they handed over a blanket. The flight was restless. How could I be so naiϊve?  Many Italians had married Nigerian girls and they were celebrating in a boisterous style, but I was lost in my thoughts.

In the morning of the month of May, Rome was cold. The bus driver was dressed in a three piece suit and tie. All others had jackets on, whereas, I, in shirt alone stood out. Fortunately, the bus heater was on. I could watch the Tuscan poplars on low hills before entering the famous Tiber Bridge seen in the movies. Luckily, they dropped me just at the entrance to the hotel; by then the welcome sun was shining; the boy helped the baggage and I checked in. The room was warm. Unfortunately, I had nothing to tip the bell-boy. I slipped inside the blankets and got up at lunch time only. After lunch it occurred to me that I had wasted my trip to Rome staying indoors. The sun was warm, so I took a chance and stirred out, walking close to the hotel. At a few hundred yards, I saw a crowd gathered on

3    one side of the road. Out of curiosity, I moved there following the sunshine. From the railing I could see beautiful grassy slope descending into a pond-like huge garden, beautiful flowers sparkling; an enchanting view. I was wondering whether they all had collected there to admire the spring flowers. Suddenly, I saw a young boy and girl making love on the slope right in the public view. Everyone was looking down to obtain vicarious pleasure in a hushed voice. Even a cop was standing there keeping a watch on them and on the crowd. Someone mentioned that making love in the open in Rome was not indecent so long they did not expose their private parts.
That's all that I earned from my first visit to Rome.
Having resigned pre-maturely, I had accepted a job with Guffanti Nigeria Company. They were constructing a 50-Km expressway connecting Ajaokuta of Russian steel mill and Ayangba. As promised, it was a bush area, but there were all the European facilities in our camp. I was very happy.
Cash for the monthly salary for the workers used to come in a vehicle with police escort, but it would be delayed at times. The workers would get restless. I had visited Ayangba First City Bank; the manager was keen to open an account for the company. The proposal was sent and within a month or so it was accepted. They sent a demand-draft against which the salary could be drawn. I had informed the Bank Manager to keep the funds ready. As usual, there was a delay in the despatch of the draft from Lagos and its receipt at our place.
It must have been the second week of the month. I was not familiar with all the faces of the workers, but many supervisors working all over the stretch of the road would drop in at the Head office for some technical reasons and later greeting me in a familiar style would make enquiries about the salary. One morning I told them the money had arrived and they would be paid in the afternoon. Someone asked me, so I told him the name of our Bank from where the salary would be collected.
The cashier went there under police escort. We all were waiting anxiously for the cashier; all the supervisors had collected waiting for the disbursal for their sections. In the afternoon we received a message that the cash van had been robbed by some armed robbers. The cashier and the police sergeant were wounded by gun-shots and one police rifle was taken away. I immediately went to the scene of the robbery; the local police were there.
'Sir, we have made the preliminary investigation. We have been told that the robbers while departing shouted, 'the Indian GM had given us the name of the Bank'.'
I made a mention of it to our Italian Site Agent. He asked me to forget about it.
Soon I received a message from Lagos that my passport had been confiscated by the Police Head Office in Lagos. Luckily, a retired senior officer of the Police was our Head of the Company Security. He got it back on his net, allowing us to proceed on annual leave at the end of the year. As usual, the police claimed to have made investigations but could find no lead, hence the case appeared to be forgotten and closed. The Head office had to deal with the Insurance Company where we had no say.
After nearly four years one newly posted Deputy Superintendent Police (DSP) came to our office for his normal monthly round.
'I was trained in Calcutta, so I have vivid memories about India, especially the food.'
I sent a message to Basanti; our camp was small and compact. The maid, Julia, prepared hot parathas which Philip enjoyed and left. He used to visit regularly and would often talk about Calcutta and India. So, one evening when I received a message that he wanted to see me, I did not find anything amiss. After finishing my office work I drove to his office about twenty Km away. Philip was not there.
'Sir, he would be back soon. Please sit down.' They offered me a chair in the front office of the Police Station. His office at the back was locked.
After about two hours of waiting I told them that I was leaving.

4 '    No, sir. We have strict instructions that you have to wait till the DSP arrives', mentioned the Police Sergeant on duty in a stern voice. He continued, 'We can ask your driver to bring your food and tell your wife that you are waiting here.'
I became suspicious, but I had no idea about what was afoot. The driver brought the food.
'Sir, it is past ten. We don't know what is delaying him, so we suggest you rest here only'; and the Police Sergeant handed over a used rough blanket to me.
I spent the night in the police station. In the morning they opened his office and asked me to use his private toilet room. The driver brought the breakfast and informed me that my wife was very angry since I had not cared to send her a message.
About ten AM, one Inspector came with some papers. 'Sir, I'll escort you to your home.'
I was completely confused so I said nothing, sitting at the back seat with two Police officers escorting me.

At home, Basanti as usual demanded why I couldn't send a message if I had to stay the night out, but I made no response since I was in the custody of the Police Inspector who sat down on the sofa in a relaxed manner to survey our residence all around. After a while he revealed the secret.
'Sir, Lagos Head Office wanted to close the robbery case. Someone had chanced to see in the file that the robbers in passing had shouted the name of the Indian GM for the information. Our DSP was directed that you had to be kept in the Police Station till we obtained the permission from the Honourable Court for your house search. We find no incriminating evidence in your house, which we would pass on to them. Sir, on behalf of our DSP and ourselves, we apologize for all the inconvenience caused to you and to Madame '.

I was called to their Head Office where our Security Head accompanied me. They asked me a question or two about the robbers and whether I could identify them; on denial, they in my presence wrote on the file, 'Case Closed'.

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Brig Narinder Dhand,
Founder & Convener
Veteran's Web Portals.