First dinner in Lagos

Allow me to backtrack here.  We arrived at the Redeemer's Camp/Compound and registered for our room using US money, since we'd not had a chance to get local currency. The man seated at the little desk in the dark living room takes our money, writes out a receipt after finding a tiny scrap of carbon paper, and uses a calculator to figure our costs. He completely ignores the idle computer sitting on the corner of his desk.  Maybe it's just a knick-knack. Four other Nigerians sit silently in the small, dark, heavily curtained room, watching us.

Our driver/host shows us to our 2nd floor room/suite at this motel-like structure at around 6pm. He trips going up the stairs; so do I.  None of the steps are the same size and not all of them are square or level. I also miss seeing the two-inch step outside our room and trip over that. We later learn that this construction style is all over the compound - stairs and floors do not follow standard heights.  Such a little thing I've always taken for granted.

My first impression of our room is how plain it is - no art on the white sitting room walls, but a heavily cushioned loveseat and two matching chairs; a tiny coffee table with a basket of very plastic flowers, a dorm fridge (unplugged), and a modern TV (I learn later that the advertised 12 channels show the same thing: grey fuzz). The door to the bedroom is next to a window between the rooms, and I notice that the window is heavily barred with re-rod and has sheer and heavy curtains. The bedroom door has a lock with keys, and the closet has a lock with keys. All three external windows have re-rod bars. This does not say a lot about social trust.

My clothes have not arrived, but by God's grace I had packed a pair of black capri's and underwear in my carry-on. After using the toilet and soaking the hems of my travel-weary jeans in the surrounding puddle, I changed and we went to dinner in the next building in a room labeled Restaurant/Bar.

Nick knows many people here already from previous conferences, and they come to greet him and meet me. I cannot keep all these faces apart, and understand about every 5th word given the accented English, so I mostly smile and nod. I am thrown off by the greeting "you're welcome" and I automatically say "thank you," which seems backwards but is actually the right thing to say.

I am clearly the worst dressed person here, except for the kitchen staff. The women are in full traditional dress - brightly colored wraps and head scarves; the men are all in suits and ties. I notice that the wraps (skirts and tops rather than full dresses, I think) must be custom made - they are skin-tight from shoulder to knees, with no slits; the tops have zippers down the back. Glad I changed out of jeans, but capris and a cute cotton shirt still seem pretty low class here.

We are directed to a table with one of the keynote speakers (white American man who's lived/taught in Nigeria for 22 years) and a missionary (white Candian woman who graduated from Redeemer's University in Ontario a few years ago) - Nick knows both of them and chats away. The service of food is odd to me - food is brought to 1 person at the table. Then one person is served at another table. Eventually, once one's food is either cold or the others have urged eating before all are served, and if one has been brought utensils (also a one-person-at-a-time service style), one can finally eat. I learn that we have been served "white person's food," for which I am grateful: a broth soup, boiled potatoes, a chicken/mushroom stew, and some unfamiliar veggies. Bottled water to drink. So much for a bar. :)

I soon excuse myself and collapse in bed, which is comfy but has the fattest/densest pillow I've ever used. No blankets or comfortor - just a top and bottom cotton sheet. Switching on the wall-mounted A/C is wonderful for the heat, but gets too chilly for just the sheet. We alternate turning the AC on and off all night long - it doesn't come with controls for nuanced cooling options.