Spirit Of Lagos

It is 9:50 am, the sun is shrouded by a blanket of mist, the air is thick and sticky.
I enter the school compound and head towards the classrooms shaking the dust from my sandals. The first set of classes are about rounding up, I am due to begin my workshop in roughly ten minutes. I gently rub my bottom, the Danfo I took this morning had its benches stripped bare and it was a bumpy ride, to say the least.

I open my laptop bag preparing to set up. The projector and screen are brought in with the multi-socket. All of a sudden, I’m nervous… anxious… I feel a drop of sweat trickle from my left armpit to the hem of my bra… The pupils enter then classroom one by one.
The benches are filled slowly then all of a sudden additional chairs and tables appear. The dust from all the movement begins to settle, there are roughly ninety-five pupils packed into a classroom that would normally take a maximum of thirty students back in the UK. I’m working at three times my usual classroom capacity.

Ready to begin, the first slide of my presentation titled ‘What is bullying?’ is up… I await the Generator… A prolonged pause… Another pause…There is some confusion… The generator won’t start… My slides are up, ninety-five pairs of eyes are fixated on me… Chatter soon breaks out. Three minutes… Five minutes, they are getting restless… I exit round the back to find out what is happening…the mathematics teacher explains that there is a fault with the generator… It won’t start, however, they have called the engineer who is on his way. Whilst we await the engineer two other volunteers attempt to rectify the problem… thirty minutes on, no luck.

The engineer arrives and begins work, I do not see him because I am in the classroom drawing up a brainstorm on the blackboard. A few minutes later I hear a loud guzzling noise… The generator starts and boy for the first time in my life I’m happy to hear the sound of one.

I progress through the presentation sweating like crazy, I feel like an animated doll. I have to remember my accent — some pupils struggle to grasp my English tonation. The presentation was a success… It’s lunchtime… I send for the engineer, I wish to thank him. A volunteer beckons a young boy who comes forward and greets me.

Meet Abdul, a nine-year-old generator technician locally known as the engineer. When I set eyes on him my jaw drops. I was stunned. He could not have been more than four foot three inches in height.
I thank him, he collects his two hundred naira and proceeds towards the school gate. As he strides away I ask another volunteer about him, apparently he’s an orphan. At the age of six his carers took him to their local electrician to begin work as an apprentice, three years on he can diagnose and resolve any generator issue within a few minutes. I don’t know about you but I think that’s bloody amazing. Now as a full-time apprentice for that last three years, I would assume that Abdul has probably never been to school, despite this he is certainly the most talented child I have ever met. Abdul was exposed to dangers on a daily basis yet was still surviving, earning a living. I try to comprehend his livelihood for a moment and I feel sad for him (as a teacher, of course, I want every child to attend school) but at the same time I am happy, happy because he was both my hero, inspiration AND I was almost certain that he had a bright future ahead of him regardless.

I remember going to meet my father at Lagos airport one morning. I left my hotel shortly after 5am.

I was moaning about not having a good night’s sleep (as us Brits do.) The Danfo we took was full two stops after we boarded. Along the trip, we passed what appeared to be a marketplace… It was still dark but it was busy, sellers placed mobile lamps on the floor beside their goods.
Heaps of shoes, clothing and handbags lay in piles spread out on large sheets. Hawkers holding containers of hats, sunglasses, babygrows, watches, and belts paced up and down chanting. One particular hawker caught my eye and said ‘aunty come and buy’ raising a set of bras LOL I was half asleep… I reflect on it thinking these people probably had no more than four to five hours rest before having to wake up and prepare for the day ahead. Oh, and for those reading from the UK, your average Lagosian is up from 4am just to beat traffic and arrive to work for a 9am start.

Anyway, instead of reading this you actually need to come and see the way people live out here in Lagos. The work ethic is out of this world! I know it may seem biased being a Nigerian myself, nevertheless, I’m convinced that Nigerians have the strongest work ethic on the planet. The Chinese and Indians follow pretty closely behind.

I feel blessed to have met little Abdul. It makes me wonder how rates of depression and suicide in the developed world are increasing, yet a nine-year-old boy who has never been to school is content and happy…

Thanks for reading.

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