By KEITH BELL
I’m a 40-something pale-male. A few years ago I had the opportunity to work and train journalists at BusinessDay newspaper in Nigeria. I hated Lagos. It’s a dark, grim poverty striken city of 43-million (the population of South Africa). I hated being away from home and my loved ones. I hated the black oily pollution of Lagos. I hated seeing burnt bodies next to the road (victims of mob justice). I hated the traffic-jams (sitting in a car for seven hours to and from work … pictured above). And I was terrified when I contracted malaria three times and typhoid. But I never felt unsafe in Lagos. Nigerians are good, friendly people … fighting everyday to survive. I’ve never seen people who work so hard.
I loved my colleagues at BusinessDay (Lagos). Beautiful friendly, generous, loving people … people like Charles Ike-Okoh (a life-long friend), Enam Obioso (who still phones to this day with his “how-now” pidgeon English), Monday (my friend, savior and driver), Friday (no joke … that’s his name), Nicholas (who took care of me when I had malaria, bringing me lemon tea), Kirk (who would shake my hand with a firm grip that I would wince in pain in anticipation of another handshake), Funke (a stunning journalist), Amaka, Anne, big Stan (a Kenneth Kaunda look-alike, who at first intimidated me … but wept and queezed the breath out of me when I left … pictured above) and BusinessDay (Lagos) publisher Frank Aigbogun (known for his dazzling smile, bright green, pink and blue shirts … and even brighter ties). I digress, but one day I joked about Frank’s dandy atire … the next day he arrived at work with a beautifully gift-wrapped present. Inside? A dazzling blue shirt … and an even more dazzling blue tie. I miss my friends in Lagos.
source:http://blogs.theherald.co.za/pitch/
