By Helen Ovbiagele, Woman Editor

A friend of mine who’s very pro-Nigeria has been recommended a bed-rest of one week by a health specialist, after a four-day visit to Benin City last week.

She’s from Edo State, but lives and works in Europe. She was in the country on a three-week vacation , and after a few days in Lagos, she badly wanted to visit her home state capital.

“I want to see good old Benin – the Oba’s Palace, the museum, Emotan statue and other ancient landmarks. Above all, I want to eat yellow yam. My goodness, I haven’t eaten it for more than eight years. We’ve not been able to get it here in Lagos. Can we go mid-week to Benin?”

I agreed to go with her, but I told her it was best to go by air.

“Go by air from Lagos to Benin? A flight of a little over half an hour? That wouldn’t be fun for me.

The problem with Nigerians is that they don’t have the true spirit of tourism, which involves travelling by road or train, and savouring the sight and sound of the countryside. Air travel is totally devoid of any meaningful sightseeing, and I won’t feel as if I’m on vacation.

Besides, I don’t trust your airplanes here. The rickety noise of aircraft I’ve been hearing since I arrived is  discouraging and alarming. It doesn’t give one the confidence to feel safe in the air. “

“But you haven’t heard of any local plane crash since you arrived last week.” I told her.

“Yes, but you have to be convinced that a plane is sound before you decide to board it. Let’s go by road. It’s more fun.”

“The Benin/Lagos road is very bad.” “When did you last use it?”

“About a year ago, and it was a nightmare. Craters everywhere on the road, and chaos at crossroads with drivers fighting for the right of way. It took us six hours to do a journey that is normally three hours.”

“The situation must have changed by now. I learnt they’re working on the road. We’ll use a good vehicle and a good driver. Come on, be a sport. Let’s go.”

So, we left Lagos at 9 am on a Thursday. Apart from damaged bridge railings, the road was surprisingly okay until we got to the FRSC camp at Ore, almost three hours later, when we found about a thousand vehicles on both sides of the road. It was the beginning of a  nightmare.

The road was very bad, vehicles were in disarray, it was raining heavily, and we were on one spot for two hours. No movement at all; either going to Lagos, or going to Benin. After a while we began to move and stumble through very bad road. Apparently, a mobile policeman had stopped at the chaotic junction of Ore One, to re-direct the vehicles coming from Lagos, away from the main road, to the right, to take a diversion through an untarred road. This was a welcome gesture. We were all glad of some sort of movement and we inched along that road for about one hour and eventually came back to the main road at the junction of Ore Two (a distance which is normally five minutes from Ore One junction.). There we joined another chaotic scene of the battle of the fittest.

“Do you have a tranquilizer on you, Helen?” asked my friend who was now reduced to holding her head in her hands for strength. “I’m beginning to feel unsettled and agitated. I need to calm down.”

I expressed my sympathy, but could only give her a pain-killer to help reduce the aches she was having, as well, as a result of all the bumps we’ve been riding through. After enduring another two hours of very bad road, we suddenly came unto a surprisingly good stretch, some kilometres from Ore.

“Wao!” exclaimed my friend. “Are we still in Nigeria? This is very good. This compensates for all the trauma we’ve experienced today.”

“Let’s hope it holds all the way to Benin,” I remarked:

“It will. Don’t dampen our joy. Enjoy this beautiful ride.”

Well, the beautiful ride ended as we were about to enter Benin. Chaotic traffic; bad road; flood. We were on a spot for one and a half hours as vehicles tried to inch forward.

“Oh God!” exclaimed my friend. “The agitation is coming on again. How do people live in these parts? Aren’t there governors, lawmakers, local government officials, etc. to ensure good roads for citizens? Can’t the authorities;  here and in Ore, deploy traffic wardens, policemen and even soldiers to man the huge traffic and bring about some order? How can you people be abandoned to this sort of life? There’s no way people abroad will take’ this sort of thing. The government would be sued. Workers would down tools. The nation would be at a standstill.

Hm! I salute you all. You allow your rulers to get away with so much non-performance.”

My friend was right. Nigerians are so tolerant. All that was needed at the Ore junctions and the Lagos Road in Benin, was the serious presence of road traffic personnel to direct the traffic, while the road rehabilitation continues. Leaving us to fight like animals on such a busy and important road which is a gateway to the North, the East and the Camerouns, is irresponsible.

Passengers, afraid to be bitten by snakes or even attacked by wild animals, were relieving themselves by the roadside, thereby, along with empty sachets of pure water, maize cobs and other types of refuse from food, endangering our health and the environment. Since it was raining heavily, we all had to stay huddled in our vehicles most of the time while the drivers battled it out on the road. Health experts tell us that sitting for a long period can lead to blood clot. The elderly and the fragile were very much at risk. But do our rulers care? No!

As we stumbled through the dark streets of Benin to my friend’s family house, there was marked silence in the vehicle; not only from the exhaustion of 11 hours on the road, but from sadness at the terrible state our country has been reduced to. Nothing seems to be working.

Her relatives were not surprised by our ordeal.

“Bad roads, floods and huge traffic build-up have become a part of our every day life,” her niece told us. “But the governor is working. The task is huge. We have erosion.”

“We take your word for that, my dear, since this auntie and myself don’t live here in Benin with you,” my friend responded.

We couldn’t do any sight-seeing, due to the ceaseless rain, and the state of the roads, but we did venture out to the nearest market.

My friend couldn’t believe her ears when we were told that one moderate-sized tuber of her beloved yellow yam is N1,200, a large one N1,500. That wasn’t the Benin we knew.

“That’s not possible!”she exclaimed at the yam seller. “How much do people earn that you should sell at these prices? You want people to steal in order to afford your prices?”

“Madam, nobi our fault o!” said the woman. “You see how our roads be? Before you go see driver wey go carry your load, you go suffer well well, because plenty motor don spoil for de bad roads and dey no fit repair dem. So, transport money high well well. Na small money we dey put for wetin we pay for de yams for village. Yam full village, but no transport. You no see how tomatoes dear, wey dem dey sell four for N200? Na we all dey suffer.”

Common-sense demanded that the earlier we left Benin on the day of departure, the better. So, we left at 7 am on the Sunday. Well, the bad roads hadn’t vanished, but at least we could stumble through them at our own pace, and two and a half hours later, we were at the Ore junction. The chaos was a mess already. Youths were trying to direct the traffic, but drivers were not cooperating. After two hours on one spot, we had a breakthrough and began to stumble over very bad roads. We were sorry for those coming from Lagos because the tail-back extended almost to Ijebu-Ode.

All broken-up and tired, we arrived back in Lagos at 2.30pm.

As my friend took to bed on doctor’s order, she swore that it would be another eight years before she visits her hometown again, and that’s only if the roads have been rehabilitated. I wished her good luck in that.

The vehicle we used? All the shock-absorbers were gone:

What a jolly country the giant of Africa is!     .