Dr Lawson says that you have to tell Nigerians what to do all the time. They are nice to you when you first arrive, but soon you find that you tell them to do something, but they don’t do it. Then you start to shout, and they will do it the one time but not the next day, then you shout some more and threaten them, and they might do it for three days, then they stop, thinking you have forgotten. This is exactly what I’ve found at work. every morning I have to go and tell the guy to turn the generator on for the electric. Somehow he can never remember to do it the next day. The driver and his two unemployed friends have been taking the car and today they bashed it up. They repaired it, but I’ve taken the keys and am driving myself. Fed up with it all. Dr Lawson is the doctor at the Zankli hospital, where I’ve been for my medical insurance policy. He gave me a thorough check, with blood tests, the results which I got last Friday but he couldn’t see me as he had a national Methodist convention to organise. He was very excited. He studied in Liverpool and left just before the riots in ’84. I accused him of causing the riots and then running off. He laughed. A Nigerian with a sense of humour, perhaps he caught it in Liverpool. I studied the results of my blood screen without any understanding and worried all weekend that I had cancer or liver failure. However I just had an infection - the teeth again, and high cholesterol so he sent me to join the gym and to take antibiotics. The hospital was like a sixties one in the UK, but the blood vampire was very gentle. I’m a celeb here due to the colour of my skin so get the best treatment. However this doesn’t change the situation at work and I’m beginning to regret coming here without a contract. Now I signed my covntract but the lawyer ran off with the copies and I haven’t had it back yet, or been paid my sterling money. The school resources still have not been oked and we decided at a meeting last week to start as a primary only. Two days after that decision, when we had already prepared loads of documents to attract parents, the consultant woman called round to tell me he didn’t want to pay me the agreed amount. I said I can’t take less and wish to be paid promptly. She advised me not to tell him that she’s warned me about it, so I immediately texted him. As well as having lost confidence that he is really able to start this project of a British school, the only plus he’s got being me! I’m really fed up with Nigerians and their incompetence, idiocy and scheming. To make it worse, the expat group is mainly Dutch people with a couple of Canadians. I don’t mind the Canadians, but spent some time explaining to Stephanie why the Dutch are so troublesome. She said ‘What have they ever done to you?’. I said well they started slavery and then blamed us for it. Then their King took over our country, plus they can’t park properly. Bizarrely I already knew the organiser Daniel as I’d bumped into him at Fabio’s (the hairdresser for white hair) on Saturday. One of the girls commented on his cut that he looked beautiful, but by the time he turned round she’d gone out so he thought I’d said it and I was in his good books. He directed a reading of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ for us. Everyone listened then politely took their leave. The coldness of Europeans always shocks when you’re in Africa and it’s what strikes you most when you return to Europe, as it appears incredibly rude compared to the warm friendliness of Africans. Strangely I couldn’t remember how ‘The Importance of Breing Earnest‘ ended! To be a good reader you have to have a terrible memory. On Saturday Stephanie and I dropped Bob off at Bodyline gym and went off to Dune’s shopping centre. Quite a lot of shops here are owned by Lebanese. I don’t know why - if anyone does please post. I said to the waiter how good it feels to be almost back home, as I ordered kebabs and salad. Then I realised how strange things have become, that I think of Lebanon as being like home whereas in the UK it would be an exotic and foreign culture! But here everything is really so different to Europe and even North Africa. It’s such an alien culture that you can’t work out how people’s minds are working, even when they seem to be doing familiar things. I’ve learned that you have to offer money for every single thing. For example, I asked a guy who works on the grounds to carry some chairs, then he expected some payment even though he was already working for the place! Prajaktar my admin manager explained that she had been giving people bits of money since the beginning for little jobs, unknown to me. Since then, when they bring my tea at the guesthouse, I tip accordiing to how fast they bring it. If they take an hour and a half, they get nothing, one hour is 50 naira, half an hour 100 naira, 20 minutes 200 naira. I explained this to them and I get the tea quicker now. will also have to tip the doorman as he’s getting slower and slower at opening the gate. Every house here has security, a big wall with barbed wire, and iron gate with a security guy who opens it for the cars. If you’re white they don’t ask who you are as they assume you’re important. This all reflects the strict levels of status in this society, where everyone knows their place and it’s really hard to get out of the position you’re born into.
I should talk about African Big Brother, the Show Which Never Ends. The horrible guy Richard seems to be winning and he’s been leading everyone on and finally bedded the Nigerian girl Tatiana last night. I can’t bear it!!! We had to watch them sleep. It’s like Andy Warhol 24/7. I avoided it for ages but finally my sheer hatred of this Richard guy drew me in and now I have to watch in the hope he’ll be evicted
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