The stories posted so far, may have cast a somewhat negative image on the Nigerian people and its society. This is not what was intended, the stories should only be read limiting to the people and circumstances involved directly in the various incidents. The Nigerian people are in fact kind and polite people. They are particularly friendly with Chinese, may it be from China, Taiwan or Hong Kong. To the Europeans they only address them as “Sir” while we are honored with “Master”! Perhaps our policy with the third world has something to do with this.

The Cief

The Witch Doctor, who had me set time for almost his entire village, was also the Chief. His full name and title was Chief T.J. Onujukwu. I used to call him Chief T.J. pronounced as Cief. Qi. J. His subjects just called him Cief. He was a kind, learned and wise old gentleman. I had befriended him since, and visited him several more times later. He took me to his village. The villagers showed their hearty welcome and treated me as one of their own. I ate with them, always Curry Chicken and Vegetables with smash Yum on the side, smoked with them, learned a few simple Ibo dialect, and I even was invited to attend a funeral during one of my visits to Benin.

The Chief two sons were killed in the Biafran war (the civil war of Ibo separation). He told me many stories about the Ibo people, and about the war. The Ibo people have many ethnic groups within. They are linked by a common dialect and not necessarily common heritage. The Ibo society is/was a decentralized society, the largest society unit is the village that the Chief is the absolute ruler. They refuse to admit any higher authority above them. The Chief told me that that was the root of the Biafran War, and predicted that sooner or later, there would be another Separation Movement by the Ibos. He was almost correct, when the Nigerian Government executed Ken Saro-Wiwa, an Ibo writer, in 1995 to stop a wide spreading discontent.

About the Rhino he gave me as gift. The first time I entered his palace, a muddy concern with many rooms and numerous children of different age. The Chief had 11 wives, young and old. I saw that he had also a wood carved Rhino; identical to the one he gave me but somewhat bigger. It was placed in a very noticeable position in the sitting hall. He pointed it out to me kept saying “Same yours! Same yours!” and the look in his eyes were that of admiration and appreciation of beauty. Perhaps, my first impression of my Rhino is the true one. Beauty should not be judged by its monetary value, but by our heart! My Rhino is also now put in a noticeable place in my apartment, which is so small that everything is noticeable, though.

Chief T.J Onujukwu died 2 years ago at the age of 87. The middle age man who interpreted for the Chief in the Time Setting Party wrote to inform me. He is the Chief’s son-in-law and had since assumed the position as Chief. Cief .Qi. J. also held a Master Degree of Philosophy.

Louie, John and Dade

The three boys who helped me in Port Harcourt airport had later became my exclusive porter/check-in assistant. Every time I traveled to Port Harcourt I let them handled all my airport errands. One time, I even had one of the boys, Louie, as my personal aid for one day. I had too many catalogues and manuals and they were heavy as hell. One or two time, when I couldn’t find them in the Airport, I felt lost and were discontented with the service of the other porter boys, though they actually were not bad at all, I became dependent on them. I gave them their names for my easy memory. Louie has a pair of thick lips like that of Louise Armstrong. John was a plain man thus a plain name. Dade behaved like an old man like some ones Dade, he was the one who first went behind the counter to check me in.

The last time I was leaving Port Harcourt, I told them that I most probably would not be coming back, even if I would, it would be after a long time. The three of them chipped in a bottle of Coke as my farewell gift. When they handed me the Coke and told me what its for, I had to turn my head for fear they would see the tears in my eyes. They are my friends, Louie, John and Dade.

Lady Butterfly

There was also a lady friend of mine, whom I loved dearly. She was very fat, with a big flat backside. Her backside was so big and flat that one can play Mahjong on it, that is, if we use those small Shanghai tiles. I called her Lady Butterfly, because she always tied her hair with a ribbon in a butterfly knot. She was the proprietor of the small Lodging place I lodged with in my latter visits to Lagos.

As my assignments brought my further and further away from Lagos, I only passed by this city on my way in and out of Nigeria. I would stay about 2 days on my way in and 3-4 days on my way out. Since there was no business, I did not have to stay in a formal Hotel like that of the Federal Palace. Especially on my way out, when I needed some recuperation before I could face and endure the long flight back home. I would lie around doing nothing, or lied down in the garden listening to my Walkman or read some books, taking Sun Bath.

This lodge was built to the English Town House style. It actually had 3 floors, but only looked like two from the outside. It was located in a suburban area east of Lagos City. A residential area when The British resided during the colonial days. The street here is clean, lined with villa or town houses. Gardens, flowers, peace and clean air. Not like the hustle bustle of Lagos downtown where the Federal Palace was. One would soon forget this is Africa within 5 minuets here. An Upper Middle Class area, where lived Bankers, Doctors, Lawyers and Managers of European Corporations.

Lady Uolowe (Lady Butterfly) was a widow, her husband died in London about 10 years before I met her. He was a diplomat who served his country in England. She has 2 daughters and 4 sons all were in England. She returned to Lagos after her husband’s death, and turned their home into a Guest Lodge. She had lived in England for more than 30 years. They were both attending London University when they met and married. She was very British. Speaks in perfect marble English with a tint of Cockney.

There were 2 Cameroon girls and a half-breed Indian who helped Lady Uolowe in running the Lodge. Lady Uolowe insisted every one in calling her Lady Uolowe and would ignore you if you called her otherwise, perhaps she felt that her Englishness deserve her such an honor title.

She kept a very strict house, 7:30 a.m. for Breakfast, 12:00 noon for Lunch and 7:30p.m. Sharp for Dinner. If we were not to have lunch or dinner there, we should inform her a day in advance; she wanted everything fresh and no waste. Breakfast is a must, no skipping. “A good and full breakfast will start you a good and full day.” She said. And for dinner, we must all in our tie and coat, to be formal, you see. Very English.

The very first morning I was there, I thought I would skip breakfast and have a late wake up. No, Master Kane. The Tall Big Fat Lady barged into my room and insisted that I should immediately get up and wash, as the whole house was waiting for me. Indeed it was. When I came into the dinning room, I found all the guests were sitting timidly there, waiting for me before they would start. I was embarrassed and felt very much ashamed of myself. I vowed to myself then and there that I would never try to skip breakfast or be late.

She was especially nice to me. When I was enjoying the sun in the garden, the maid would bring me some lemonade, instructed by the Lady. A Swede who also stayed there, one time asked the maid for the lemonade, the Lady pulled a long face at him and ordered him to get it from the kitchen himself, to be charged to his account!

My room also received her special care. She inspected it personally every day. Making sure that the maid did not miss cleaning anywhere. She would also personally tidy up my desk and my bed cupboard. One time she found the Playboy I was reading the night before. She took the magazine to me and torn it right in front of me and gave me a 15 minuets sermon of her I should not read such evil material. Lucky that the Hustler and Penthouse were in my attaché case, locked. I kept all my girlie books locked from then on.

So often, when she needed to go to the market and, if I was around. She would tell her maid no need to go. Instead, she wanted me to accompany her, and she would tell every one in the market who I was and where I came from, despite many of them had already known me. Either she treated me like a pet, or she must be rather fond of me!

On the nights, I went to town with other guests; she would wait up for us. One night, I went with a local friend, and came home about 1:30 in the morning. She waited up for me, despite that I already told her of my late coming, and that she had given me the key to the main door. Sometimes, when she could smell heavy alcohol in my breath! She would give me another 15 minuets sermon, “Alcohol numbs your mind and make you do stupid things, its one of the gates to Hell!” She would say. If she knew what we had done, she would have a heart attack. She acted like my mother and treated me like her own son.

On my second last trip to Nigeria. I found, upon my arrival to the Lodge, her deceased. She had died of Heart Attack two weeks before my visit. I never learn how old she was. The Indian was running the place, waiting for the Lady’s children to decide what to do with it. The Cameroon girls were there too. Everything looked the same, everything was the same……….except for the warmth there had been!