TheCable

By R. Tombari Sibe

I set out to the Port Harcourt International Airport as early as 8am, not knowing what to expect. I had been given an appointment for the next day in Abuja, and accepted with great reluctance, only because it was quite important I honour it. A journey that I could have executed (to and fro) in a day, I had to dedicate 3 days, because of the unknown logistics of routing through Kaduna. I had recently read an article of how the runway of the Glasgow Airport was replaced, “as Scotland slept”. It still doesn’t make any sense to me, why my country would shut down such an important airport for 6 weeks. This long and winding journey ahead of me was a sad reminder of our awkward situation.

As the small aircraft took off to Kaduna, I watched the rotor on the wings slice through the air. It gained more speed, till it became seamless and transparent. Below, I admired the greenery of the rain forest, as we gently ascended, until we got lost in the cloud. About 50 minutes later, we had commenced descent; the guinea Savannah gradually became visible. The Pilot soon announced pre-landing routines, and we touched down the Kaduna Airport. Total flight time was about 70 minutes.

I hurried out with the rest of the passengers, not knowing what next to do. I knew I had two options available to me – Train or Bus – but didn’t know how to go about it. Everyone walked confidently as though they had their itinerary all figured out, but deep down in me, I knew we were all JJC’s; the Port Harcourt man is too proud to ask questions when he stands a chance of figuring things out by himself. I retrieved my luggage from the carousel and walked to the waiting bus parked directly at the entrance of the arrival gate. From the inscription, I could tell it was one of the Luxury buses that shuttle the West African route. The arrival routine was quite orderly. As stated above, the only carousel present, was in good condition, and baggage sorting was without issues.

As I settled in, I thought to myself that every situation throws up business opportunities; Chisco Transport had seized the moment. There’s this thing they say about when preparation meets opportunity. Chisco was prepared for this opportunity, and they will smile to the bank this period. I settled in and tried to make myself comfortable. We had to wait for about 45 minutes for passengers to fill the bus. Eventually, we departed, with a SARS vehicle filled with armed operatives, leading the way. I felt secure, I must admit. However, I often get bothered with too many security men around. It felt strange being driven around with so much armed security men. It just exposed the level of insecurity in the land. I felt like a journalist being driven around the rubble in Alepo, Syria – Secured but scared!

As we traveled, I looked around, wondering how a once thriving hub of manufacturing in Nigeria, is now a shadow of itself. The city once had a thriving textile industry and automobile assembly plants. Today, there are no signs that these industries are doing well. Not much has changed too, in terms of development, except the new solar powered street lights that lined the road from the airport.

For someone like me who’d been to Kaduna a couple of times, the scenery wasn’t anything new. The terrain, vegetation and settlement patterns are something I’m used to. The journey was unusually long; it took us about 3 hours 15 minutes, instead of about 2, to get to Abuja. I was tired and thirsty, and could hardly wait for our arrival. I decided to close my eyes a bit to see if I could sneak a nap, when suddenly, I heard the Chinese man who sat behind me announce to his brother: “Zuma Rock, zuma rock”. I opened my eyes to behold the behemoth. I’d seen this severally, but each time, I’m always reminded of my lessons in Geography. This must be igneous rock. It must have taken thousands of years for the molten magma to cool off and solidify to form this huge rock.

A few minutes later, we were at the Nnamdi Azikiwe international airport. Strange, right? We were driven by road from one airport to another, not to catch another flight, but to disembark into a waiting taxi. This was not the only strange thing; the other was that rather than just drop us off by the car park, they drove us right in to the tarmac, to simulate another arrival. So, here we were, filing out of the arrival of another airport we arrived by road.

By this time, it was about 5:30pm. That’s a disastrous travel time for someone who left his house by 8:00am to go to Abuja by air. Someone who left Port Harcourt on “God is Good” Motors that morning, would be arriving Abuja at about same time, for a cheaper fee. Anyway, I couldn’t complain much. I simply thanked God for journey mercies as I settled in to my hotel room.

My flight back was for 10:00am the day after. At the time I booked the flight, I didn’t think about the logistical challenges ahead. It would be difficult to leave Abuja and catch a 10:00am flight in Kaduna. I was relieved to find out that buses left the Abuja airport as early as 5:00am. By 5:15am the next day, I was seated in one of the Chisco buses, preparing for take-off to Kaduna. The airport staff in Abuja were professional and courteous. I was impressed they were all up and alive to their responsibilities by that time.

We departed Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport at about 5:30am, with a road safety vehicle leading the way, and a fully armed SARS van following behind. I was impressed by the inter-agency collaboration and professionalism exhibited by the officials. Here we had men of the FRSC, SARS, Police, FAAN all collaborating harmoniously for our safety and comfort. Safe for a few zig-zag moves by the FRSC vehicle in Kaduna to clear the road, driving was excellent and professional. Our driver had a good sense of music. He treated us with a medley of some of the best country music ever played. A collection of Don Williams, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton and other greats were the perfect songs for such an early morning trip. I sang along, and hummed the ones I didn’t know the lyrics. My favorite was Kenny Rogers’ coward of the county. I nodded in harmony as I sang along: “Promise me son, not to do the things I’ve done. Walk away from trouble if you can…”. And, yes, I’ve tried to walk away from trouble when I can; but, I’ve also learnt that sometimes you’ve got to fight…

By the time the vehicle arrived in Kaduna, Dolly Parton’s coat of many colours filtered through the speakers. I took my luggage as I alighted, squared my shoulders, and walked away, feeling as rich as I could be, as though I was wearing my coat of many colours.

This time, the journey was shorter; about 2 hours 50 minutes.

I got to the Aero Contractors check-in desk and was given the now familiar bad news: my flight had been moved ahead by 5 hours, without any prior notification. There was no way I could wait, and expose myself to another impending disappointment. By this time, the departure hall was really rowdy and chaotic. The next available flight was Air Peace, so I asked to buy the ticket. I was directed to a building about 400 meters away, where they were recently relocated to. I walked as fast as I could, got there and joined the queue. When it got to my turn, I was told by the rude staff that the POS was not working. I had no choice but to walk the 400m length, back to where only one ATM (out of the many idle ones) was working. I joined the queue and finally withdrew enough for my ticket.

Again, I had to walk the 400 metre length, back to the ticketing unit. A certain boisterous VIP convoy of two Toyota Prado sandwiched by two SARS vehicle filled with heavily armed men, drove past me to the VIP wing. From the number plates, I suspected that this must be a certain Minister. One SARS vehicle for a luxury bus filled with air travellers, and here we have two fully loaded vehicles, escorting two “empty” vehicles? I’ll return to this later.

I got back to the ticketing office, panting and sweating. I went straight to the ticketing officer, explaining I was already at the point of paying before she told me their POS was not working. Again, she rudely insisted I must join the queue. I was not in the mood to quarrel, so I quietly waited for my new turn. I paid, and was issued the ticket. I walked back the 400 meters stretch again, to a waiting line at the departure hall. In all, I’d done over 2km in that small airport, due to their incompetence. There were about 40 persons on the queue, waiting to go through the security checks at the door of the departure. I managed to wait my turn, and serve the security routines. By this time, I was already depressed, frustrated and tired.

To cut the long story short, this whole Kaduna airport arrangement was a logistical nightmare. The Airport was clearly overwhelmed by the surging crowd. Each time the Chisco Buses dropped off passengers, the whole place went into a chaotic frenzy. It was clear the staff were not prepared for this moment. They looked confused and overwhelmed.

It’s also surprising that despite having so much time to prepare and argue before the national assembly, the airport was still undergoing construction works. The departure hall was as rowdy as the peak period of the Oil Mill market in Port Harcourt. You could hardly find a free seat.

I was relieved to hear the boarding announcement of Air Peace flight to Port Harcourt. I located my seat, and strapped myself in the seat belt. Suddenly, this Minister emerged. He made his way through the business class seat, and sat in one of the economy seats. I was not impressed; I knew a publicity stunt when I saw one. This was the same minister who drove in to the VIP Wing arrogantly with two SARS vans as escort. Such brazen arrogance cannot be reconciled with this hurriedly assembled humility. Some other passenger was impressed by his “humility”, and walked to him to take a shot with his phone camera. I hissed and adjusted myself in my seat. Make I see road joor!

The airplane soon took off, so much to my relief. In about 50 minutes, we were at the Port Harcourt International Airport. As I descended the steps and looked up, I saw this rubble before me. One half was in complete ruin, and the other in fairly good condition. On it was the inscription: Port Harcourt International Airport. It looked like an airport that survived a civil war. The arrival hall must have been hit by a bomb. For more than 4 years, this airport had remained an arrested development. The ruling party may have changed, but the fortunes of the airport have not. What a sin thing! <In Jamaican Patois>

 Sibe is a Development Strategist and Geospatial Consultant. He writes in from Port Harcourt. You can follow him on twitter @rsibe