We wanted to get on the road around 5:00 before environmental day started. The last Saturday of each month is devoted to cleaning the city and your area. The roads are closed to cars and runners (as our principal and his wife discovered) from 7:00 to 10:00. It applies to the whole state of Lagos. So, with the set goal and with Ibrahim, our driver, arranged to pick us up at 5:00 we finally loaded the car at 6:30 and were off! Mark and I got the roomy back seat while Ibrahim was behind the wheel and Max Powers (what a name) was the hired MoPo which stands for something about military police. His job was to sit in the front seat. The drive up to Benin City was rough. The roads are scared with giant pot holes that can only be avoided by swerving. Children dart across the road and jump over the barrier to get to the other side of their village. Cars come down your one way road unexpectedly because they are avoiding the big holes on their side. Suddenly the road ahead of you is being worked on and because there is no warning you have to turn around and now you are the one driving on the opposite side of the road and the one way is now a two way. We saw trucks freshly turned on their side and carcasses of others left behind licked clean from the fire flames. The drive was long but we were in a clean, air conditioned land cursier. The ipod was pumping and Mark and I were cuddled under a comforter pillows. The back was loaded with granola bars, Pringle packs, and liters of water.
About three hours into our drive I was napping when I heard a loud bang that sounded like a popped ptire or the backfire of a car. With my eyes still closed I selfishly hoped it was someone elses noise and not our own. Opening my eyes I saw billowing smoke pouring from our hood. In this nice Land Cruiser we were the ones stalled on the road being passed by cars only suitable for the junkyard.
Like magic our car was surrounded with people who wanted to help. It reminded me of the area boys who stand around this sand road that people use in Lagos as a sort cut. They stand around waiting for someone to get stuck. And when the little Honda with a big heart but not enough power starts to skid and spit sand they are there before you can cuss a full sentence. It's like the watchful and patient predator ready to pounch. Really, in all honesty it's brilliant and innovative.
But, this situation that could have been seen as a doom and gloom wasn't at all. We happened to be only 15 meters from a mechanic. And Mark who is a natural optimist took a hold of the situation within seconds never loosing that brilliant smile and said "Ok let's do some work while we are here, shall we?" And five hours later he had a replaced radiator, 50 tomato surveys completed, had gone on a full tour of the coco nut plantain and a poormans factory where they roast the palm nuts. Also a whole village was in love with him as he teased the children about "chopping their bellies". To chop means to eat in pidgin.
We got the information we were looking for about farming, prefered tomato paste and competed surveys. We also got hot, sweaty and farmer tanned. After Ibrahim negotiated the price with the mechanic we piled back into the car and headed again on this rustic road to Benin City. I was so grateful for the presence of the MOPO. The drive would have been quadrupled without him. Talk about being a powerful presence. The uniform of the green beree and the plastic looking gun prompted between your feet were a ticket to the fast lane. Every 15-30 minutes we would drive up to traffic which indicated there was a military stop. We would see vehicles pulled over with the people in them angerly gesturing. Some would be standing with stapled papers wildly flying in their hands trying to prove to an uninterested audience who wasn't interested in that type of proof. But, wanted the proof with the famous historical faces smiling back. Because of the MOPO we were always waved through, saving us hours of time and thousands of nira.
The next day we drove out of Benin City into a beautiful community where we meet up with a guy who was a cousin of Marks friends C.Y. He took us on a tour of farm land. We saw the tented greenhouse land dedicated to the future tomatoes of Nigeria. We drove by a beautiful valley view with nothing but trees to line the horizon. I learned how a cashew grows after seeing my first cashew tree. The fruit looked like a yellow pepper but it was tart and chalky.
The tour was short but worth the drive. Just walking through the land made me feel reconnected and was like pushing the reset button of my heart. Back in the car I happily shook my seed pod and stroked my cashew nut. Simple pleasures should never be underestimated or denied.
While the drive back was just as swervy and stomach turvy as the coming it was beautifully uneventful. Mark and I laughed over episodes of Jake and Imir on his iPhone and just plain enjoyed each other company.
With the weekend over, check! Now, I've done the tomato surveying and farming investigation in Benin City thingy and can add one more meaningful adventure into my pocket of treasures.
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