Personal Growth – Faith

In 2003, as a Water Treatment Engineer, I was asked if I wanted to go to Nigeria to commission some equipment. Despite the country’s reputation for, shall I say, not being one of the worlds’ safest places, plus personally having a certain spirit of adventure, it took me about ……. ten seconds to make up my mind. I have always had a good amount of self confidence in my ability to survive and also a belief that God would always look after me.

 

It took two visits in the end to commission the equipment which amounted to about fifteen days in total. In that time I probably had more experiences than in the rest of my life, but I have never regretted making those trips as I have tremendous memories from Nigeria despite quite a few very dodgy moments.

 

The experience I am now about to relate to involved the journey home at the end of my second visit. The water treatment equipment that I had been working on had been installed at a factory being constructed for British American Tobacco in Ibadan, about an hour and a half drive north-east of Lagos – Lagos being Nigeria’s largest city. The Lagos to Ibadan Highway was a dual carriageway that amounted to two stretches of tarmac that ploughed through the jungle. No road markings existed, road users used any part of the lane they felt like and the usual driving at eighty m.p.h. was made even more exciting by the numerous pot-holes in the road.

 

Gabriel was my driver – a well built Nigerian gentleman who seemed very at ease with the world until he got behind the wheel of a car. I never quite found out why he, like many other Nigerians, had scars on both cheeks, as though having been clawed by a wild cat.

 

The car was a beige coloured Mercedes. On my first visit it had been relatively luxurious, but this time around it seemed to be in need of a service. The engine ran very lumpy, the radio did not work and nor did the air conditioning.

 

We left Ibadan with plenty of time to spare to get to the airport. The weather was very hot and humid and the lack of air conditioning made for a very uncomfortable trip. There are two sets of toll booths between Ibadan and Lagos, the first being about five miles outside of Ibadan. Just past the first booth we were pulled over at a police check point. There are very many of these on the roads around the big cities. Most of the time the police would find something wrong with the vehicle but the driver could normally   negotiate his way out of the hassle with a few Naira – the Nigerian currency. On this occasion the policeman, dressed in his burgundy uniform looked at me and said to Gabriel,

 

“French ?”

 

Although I am not, Gabriel replied.

 

“Yes”

 

“Off you go” the policeman ordered and Gabriel obligingly drove on.

 

A few miles down the road we got a puncture. Gabriel pulled onto the dusty, bare roadside. We got out of the car whilst Gabriel proceeded to change the wheel.

 

“This is no good” he proclaimed.

 

“You mean the spare’s had it as well?” I asked in amazement.

 

“Look after these” Gabriel said as he shoved the car keys into my hand.

 

I was dumb struck to see Gabriel wheeling the two flat tyres to an old, beat up, yellow recovery truck parked fifty yards behind us. They drove off down the road leaving me to guard the car. Looking at my mobile phone there was no signal for me to be able to contact anybody. I had no choice but to sit and wait, hoping for Gabriel’s return.

 

In the boot of the car was my suitcase with my clothes in, my tool bag and my paperwork in a rucksack. I wasn’t really bothered about the suitcase and the tools but I wanted to protect the paperwork. I took the rucksack and placed it behind my seat and then locked myself in the car.

 

Whilst I was anxiously waiting, from across the other side of the highway appeared a family of four Nigerian females, headed by what I would assume to be the mother going down in age through the daughters to the youngest at the back of the line who looked to be about eight. They were all dressed in colourful tops and sarongs and carried baskets on their heads. Patiently waiting for gaps in the traffic, they made their way across the road and disappeared down a track into the jungle.

 

After forty minutes I was relieved to see Gabriel returning in the recovery truck with one repaired tyre. He fitted this and we set off to find a ram shackled shed by the side of the road that was equipped with an air compressor. This was the road side tyre repair service that repaired the second tyre. There were many of these sheds spread along the highway between Ibadan and Lagos.

 

“Great” I thought, “let’s just get to the airport.”

 

The second toll booth was situated half way between Ibadan and Lagos. Approaching these the traffic came to a grinding halt. When we finally reached the booth Gabriel asked the attendant what the hold-up was for.

 

“Highway robbery. Gun men came from out of the trees, fired their guns at one of the cars and looted both the car and the people they had killed.”

 

Gabriel looked at me and said,

 

“Good job we had puncture”

 

Surely nothing else could happen between here and the airport.

 

It was June, the rainy season in Nigeria,  and as we were getting nearer to Lagos, dark, heavy clouds were looming in the sky. Their thunderstorms were very spectacular and the display of lightning was totally enthralling. The rain that came with it was spectacular to. With the failure of the air conditioning, the windows misted up rapidly. The windscreen wipers were going at full pelt, and, with all the windows down, it was still difficult to get good vision ahead. I was getting wet through and Gabriel was still driving at eighty m.p.h. around the pot-holes. I just wanted to get to Lagos and off of the dual carriageway so that we could slow down.

 

When we finally left the highway the scenery turned to poverty. Market stalls lined the roadsides, selling a variety of fruit and vegetables and were surrounded by waste. Traffic slowed and people darted between the vehicles promoting the customary sound of car horns that filled the air in any built up area. By now the movement of cars had become painfully slow. Eventually one of the causes became apparent. A river of water was gushing across the road. It was stop-start through the water and I dreaded the point at which we were driving through. In the middle of the stream the lumpy engine stalled. Amazingly Gabriel got the car started again. It stalled a second time but it started again. Suddenly I felt a wet sensation on my feet. I looked down and was greeted with the sight of water flooding into the foot well. Quickly I raised my feet onto the seat. Then it occurred to me,

 

“My paperwork is in my rucksack behind my seat”

 

I grabbed the rucksack and rummaged for my passport and flight ticket.

 

Sopping wet.

 

Fortunately the ticket and passport weren’t seriously damaged and still legible. I spent the rest of the journey to the airport waving my papers in the air in a desperate attempt to dry them out.

 

What should have been an hour and a half journey took five hours. Although it was fraught with anxiety, there was no point where I doubted my survival. My self confidence, survival instinct and belief in God helped me see positively through each incident. I didn’t feel the need to panic at any time. The experiences, difficult as they were, creates my personal growth, making me a stronger person, knowing that I have the self confidence to see me through other obstacles and challenges that life may present.

 

Terry Norrington

 

www.getselfconfident.com

~ by tnorrington on August 23, 2008.