Tuesday 29 July 2014

Amsterdam-ed

The idea was born at 1.23 am at Schiphol airport. Almost at this same time last month.

Born on a hard reclining seat, not at all comfortable, in one of the upstairs lounges where I lay huddled in my just purchased duvet, still in my jeans, socks, shirt and jacket. God was it cold!

Finally, it was quiet in the lounge as my fellow travellers slept. I welcomed the silence and was comforted by familiar sounds of snores and grunts from the sleeping crowd.

Just hours before, the airport was alive with  cries of "oohhhhh" and ''aahhhh'' from the ongoing World Cup match between Costa Rica and Greece as each side battled to qualify to the next round.

It all began 14 hours before when my flight from Houston touched down at Amsterdam.
I quickly dashed to the departure gate for the connecting flight to Lagos. We were not boarding yet. I glanced at the monitor, it read "Lagos 1.30pm" and the huge clock beside it showed local time as 12.45pm, I quickly dashed to the shops. I kept glancing at my wrist watch in order not to get carried away and finally headed back to the gate at 1.20pm. Alas the gate was closed and the flight ready to take off without me!

How on earth could I have mistaken departure time for boarding time?

Thinking back now I think I may have heard my name on the PA at about 1 pm, but I guess not even that was enough to rouse my tired brain from its slumber.

Don`t underestimate the powers of jet lag, I say. I had always wondered at its true meaning, had often felt it was overrated, used by people simply to announce that "I have been abroad".

I was in a daze as I paid the compulsory penalty fee of 177 Euros just to be moved to the next day`s flight. I headed for the lounges upstairs which had reclining seats I was told. I had almost 24 hours of waiting time before me. I was so upset with myself.

I dozed for close to four hours and finally forgave myself. Woke up and wolfed down a cheese burger and coke. Bought a duvet and a pillow and got comfortable on my seat.

I reluctantly paid attention to my neighbours.

The lounge was packed full of Europeans, Asians and Latin Americans. I was the only black. 

I studied the Asians keenly as they conversed in their lingo. I strained my ears for English words in their conversation but lost interest when I heard not even a single one. I wondered if a fight were to start right now, if they would all by default break out in some Kung Fu or drunken style. 

A young white couple looked into each other`s eyes and giggled like kids.

A group of teenage boys, university students I guessed from their t-shirts and back packs, laughed loudly at some secret joke.

A girl of about 16 who was curled up fast asleep, angrily shrugged off the red shawl a woman who could only have been her mother was wrapping around her. The woman said something to her and placed the shawl a second time. Again she shrugged it off and with eyes still closed said something harshly to her mother at which the latter`s face fell. I pondered a while at why non-African women feel that they need to fuss over their kids.

The tired looking Latina beside me, who vaguely reminded me of Eva Mendez, smiled and said something to me in a language I guessed was Spanish. I made a sign to her that I didn't understand.
She smiled and said something that sounded like `Ouba`. I looked at her blankly.
She repeated it but this time questioningly, "Ouba"? "Fidel?"
At which I smiled as comprehension dawned on me.
"Ahhhh, Cuba! Fidel Castro". "You are from Cuba" I said. She smiled broadly and nodded.

"Nigeria, Lagos". I said to her.
She looked at me with a half smile that said she wasn't sure what I meant.
I almost said "Nigeria? Boko Haram? Bring back our girls?"
She helped me out by saying, "Ahhhh, Nigeria. Africa". I smiled sheepishly.

The idea of a blog was conceived.

The next morning I was the first out of the lounge, into the Ladies, did a little 'rub n shine' then headed for the departure gate. Got there at 9.30 am even though boarding was at noon. I no fit shout!

Finally, we arrived Lagos. I took in a long slow breath as I stepped out of the plane. I had never been so happy to be back. Naija, our beloved country that one cannot help but liken to a ship caught up in a storm, being tossed around like a rag doll by merciless waves.

E go beta.


16 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Interesting piece. Rub n shine indeed... Lol

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  2. WOW, this write up is simply amazing! You got the skills, the audience awaits. Get us wowed!

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    1. Nigeria! Boko Harram! Bring back our girls, LOL. God will see us through.

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    2. Lol. Thanks Duvie, that is our prayer.

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  3. This is great Stella...keep it coming

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  4. Well written. Not the usual gossip blogs, very refreshing as well

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  5. Considering how much I ENJOYED your holiday through your posts, it is wonderful to read the original stories behind those famous 'DPs' in graphically honest words....

    Keep them coming Stella!

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  6. Very well written. More! More!! More!! :)

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