Driving licences

Today we had our first experience of Nigerian bureaucracy.  Fraser and I were driven and escorted by Luka to the office for driving licences in Jos.  We took our place among the queue of people waiting there and settled down with our kindles, expecting a long wait.  After a short time a man emerged from the inner office and asked to see our UK licences.  With a rueful smile he shook he head, said they weren’t valid in Nigeria and announced that we would have to go to driving school and pass a test before we’d be given a Nigerian licence.  I must admit that this struck me as amusingly ironic and visions of a school in which most good UK driving habits are undone were uppermost in my mind.  Then our friend revealed that if we paid him N24000 each we could have our licences the next day.  

When we were somewhat reluctant to follow him to the office to clinch the deal he turned and told us to do the maths – paying him would be cheaper than paying for driving lessons.  As usual the retort came to mind too late: I didn’t want to do the maths, I wanted to get a licence honestly. 

Nigerian driving is really something else.  It’s crazy but somehow it works if (as Fraser said) you have a robust attitude to other road users.  When you’re new and stop to analyse the driving style it is quite terrifying but now I’m enjoying the freedom. 

 

On Monday Becky our househelp came for the first time.  Everything takes twice as long in Nigeria and if I am not going to sink under chores I need some help.  Becky did the washing (by hand as the low water pressure at TCNN does not make it worthwhile to buy a machine here) cleaned the house and made lovely cinnamon rolls, all the time accompanied by 6 month old Zion.

Great way to carry a baby

Zion