Money talks and kindness confuses: Nigeria diary 4
In order to get a decent paying office job in Nigeria, you have to attend university. However, getting into universities is difficult because of not only how expensive they are, but because of the corruption surrounding college admissions. As a result, many young people work in the service industry for some time after high school in order to save money for university. Service workers range from those working behind the counter at fast food places, such as the Kilimanjaro franchises we frequented, to hotel attendants or parking lot workers. The service industry is a whole secondary economy for the country and spills out into nearly every facet of Nigerian way of life. What constantly surprised me was the sheer number of people working in any service position at any given establishment. In every restaurant or cafe, there were at least 3-4 workers for every customer. The two hotels we stayed in the longest, one in Port Harcourt and one in Uyo, had a minimum of 10 attendants working at any given time, and these were not large hotels. In every single parking lot, there were at least two or three men in a uniform directing where you could and couldn’t park. Now, were these parking security men actually hired by the establishments? Or, did they merely take it upon themselves to try and make some extra money by coercing customers into paying them for a spot? That, I’ll never know.
There are no free favors in Nigeria
As soon as we touched down in the airport in Lagos, my family and I were greeted with some good ole Nigerian corruption. A woman immediately came up to us saying “You’re my people, stick with me”, saying she would help us navigate the line. My mom kindly rejected her services, which at first confused me, until I realized the woman wanted to be paid for her help. We hadn’t changed currencies yet, so we were left to fend for ourselves in the world’s slowest moving Customs line in a small room with no AC. In the chaos of the Customs line, I’m not even sure how much her help would have benefitted us because she had little power compared to the inefficient desk workers who were moving at a snail’s pace. While waiting in line, we saw at least 5 groups of people cut ahead of us because they were willing to pay the airport workers in order to move ahead. We also had to desperately pee, which made the wait all that much more torturous.
As soon as we got to the luggage pickup area, my family and I were flocked by at least five different people who wanted to “help” us with our luggage. Granted, we did have around 12 bags between the 4 of us, but truthfully, we could have managed on our own. These “workers” began to repeatedly ask for money. These people were not employed by the airport. They were freeloaders who harassed people fresh off their flights, especially when they could tell that they were foreigners like us and constantly tried to guilt you into giving them money. In the near 45 minutes we waited for our driver to pick us up (thank you Lagos traffic), these “workers” hung around us like vultures to struggling prey. A very tiny woman, who I swear to you did not lift a finger in helping with our luggage, had a death grip on the luggage cart and hung around the entire time, waiting for us to give her something.
Just imagine, you just got off an 11-hour flight. You’re severely dehydrated, had to wait almost an hour in the Customs line in a sticky and grimy terminal with no AC, and now you’re waiting outside in the Nigerian heat, cars honking constantly, with people bugging you for money every two minutes. I can’t even describe how exhausted I was trying to keep an eye on the luggage, look out for our car and swat off strangers, one of which was trying to touch my hair after being shocked that it was real (I talk more about this hair phenomenon here). This draining experience was my introduction into the larger Nigerian service ecosystem. People make these service opportunities for themselves, no matter how unwanted they may be.
What is habit to us confused Nigerian workers
As in most countries outside of the US, tipping is not customary in Nigeria. The conversion of Naira to USD is 1550 to 1. That’s how weak the Naira is. Because of this, we tipped as frequently as we could, especially when it came to the hotel attendants who we became well-acquainted with in Port Harcourt. Every time they would bring us an extra towel or the morning’s complimentary breakfast, my mom would tip them, and they would be baffled. When I tipped my braider after my appointment, she asked “Why did you give this [referring to the extra money] to me?” Mind you, the cost for my braids in the US is $220 before tip and before factoring in the braiding hair. In Nigeria, getting my braids done cost less than $25, with the tip included. Workers were always shocked, and then very grateful when we tipped, but I felt guilty knowing the extra 3,000 Naira we had just given them was less than $2. I couldn’t turn off the conversion rate in my head. While I was happy to be able to make such an impact, it felt terrifying that $2 could change the course of someone’s day in Nigeria, but it wouldn’t get you a bottle of water in a CVS at home.
Another habit that constantly confused Nigerian service workers was our manners. I’ve always been raised to say please and thank you, both through my upbringing from my parents and general Southern kindness, and it’s not a habit I ever turn off. After I’d end a call to the hotel front desk or restaurant host stand with a “Thank you so much” or “Yes please”, there was always a pause at the end of the other line. In person, the workers were bewildered by our American manners. My mom explained to my brother and I that it’s normalized in Nigeria for hotel workers to be treated horribly by guests. The workers were often verbally abused and berated, cussed out and threatened for not meeting the likely impossible standards of the guests. After befriending some of the hotel attendants in Port Harcourt, this information was corroborated, and they shared anecdotes of being verbally abused by some assholes who were upset about a minor detail in their room or the speed of the room service. Our hotel experience wasn’t perfect, but like normal people, we didn’t berate the attendants who were trying their hardest. The restaurant somehow doesn’t have bread? We’ll laugh it off and get food outside of the hotel. The hot water isn’t working? Oh well, that’s Nigeria for you- we’ll try again tomorrow. It seemed like service workers in Nigeria operate along a spectrum. They were either trying to squeeze some Naira out of you for doing literally nothing or were astonished when you said “Thank you so much” when they did their job. It made for a jarring experience all around.
