A joyless side of travelling as a Nigerian

Travelling as a Nigerian can get messy when you’re not in a tourist attraction spot, around people who think you’re ‘exotic’, eating similar food, drinking fancy cocktails, throwing back shots, and having wild conversations.

This is the second official, and third unofficial time I’m experiencing discrimination at an airport. The second time was an ‘attempt’, for which I was NOT in the mood.

I go ahead to detail these experiences.

The first time I experienced real, actual, true discrimination, and in fact, semi-harassment travelling as a Nigerian, was on my first visit to Colombia.

I had already had a loooooooong trip, and it wasn’t just the flight. I really just needed to get it over with as well as see a dear, dear, wonderful, darling friend after some time. So, you see, I was all kinds of tired.

As soon as I step foot in the airport, it seemed immigration officials were waiting for – well – a bunch of us. I remember clearly; me, the only dark-skinned person, Middle-Easterners, Northern Africans… A few of us like that.

Now, I’m a respecter of due process that is valid and non-discriminatory. At least, on paper. Plus, as I was mad tired, and it was my first trip to the country, it didn’t even hit me as anything other than process initially.

Not until we were taken to an office, and more than an hour later I was the last person to be called to get my data captured.

My friend was freaking out, but I was calm. I got Internet connection luckily, so we were chatting back and forth. “It’s process. Leave it,” was my stance.

Finally, it’s over, and the immigration lady is smiling and showing me my way. But, I walk a few metres and realise I’m on the wrong path. I turn around and make my way back to that same office, and ask to be pointed in the right direction.

Then, it dawns on her that I’m not taking a connecting flight. This makes me imagine that they were supposed to check that that was the case, before their data capture. But, anyway.

She’s now like, “Papers! You have money? Show me money!” Stuff like that. With my remaining calmness, and some shock, I bring out my documents and money as proof I’m not there to do whatever it is she must have been certain I was coming to do in her country.

She snatched the money from my hand. Something I cannot take in my country. My face changed. I was shivering. Lady! Tsk tsk tsk… Nor be you. I’ve been through a lot to be standing in this office now. I remain focused.

She tosses the money on a nearby table, goes to her colleagues, comes back, and starts asking me for details about my visit. I hand her a document with dead silence. She goes and makes a call, comes back, and it seems we’re kosher again.

THEN, she shows me where I’m supposed to go. Even walks me, and is trying to even chat. *sigh* Anyways…

That time left me really thinking. Yes, there were a bunch of us, and every country (maybe except ours? Another piece) reserves the right to choose who they let in. But, perhaps in situations where you’re actually a dangerous threat? Not when your country or people are arbitrarily seen in a distasteful light.

I checked after and we were from select regions, and we were ‘threats’. Cool, innit?

TRAVELLING AS A NIGERIAN AGAIN…

The second unofficial time happened at a stopover at the Ataturk Airport in Istanbul. I was coming from France where I had almost missed my flight to get there.

It was time to board. I was close to the end of the line, as I prefer to be when I noticed a bunch of ‘special flyers’ bunched up in a corner. They were mostly black this time, and rather young too. As I said, I was NOT in the mood. I repeat, I WAS NOT IN THE MOOD.

As I got closer, one young man in a suit started to use his hand to show me to the corner. I glared at him and would have pushed passed him for real (I believe), if who I think was his superior didn’t tell him to leave me alone, or something to that effect. I just kept walking.

It’s actually embarrassing. It’s annoying, but it’s embarrassing. For actual what??

AND YET AGAIN

The third time’s the reason I decided to share this post. The location is Istanbul Airport. The destination is Lagos. (Yes, I’ve used Turkish Airlines a few times). There’s a line as we get onto the jet bridge from the plane. They’re checking passports. Process.

It’s my turn, and the guy takes a look at my passport, compares it to a list in his hand, then passes it on to a lady who shows me onto a path.

I’m even thinking it’s because I’m making a transfer – The Istanbul Airport is new. Asheeeyyyy, I’m being shown to a corner for ‘special treatment’ things. Isn’t travelling as a Nigerian fun?

So, I ask why I’m getting special treatment. She says she doesn’t know. She opens my bag and starts to poke around in it.

This is where I mention how my packing is pretty mad organised, and in general I hate people poking around in my things. Anywhere. Like, you will fuck shit up. Is there something, in particular, she’s looking for? I venture. She mutters something about routine.

Word? Cause there’s just… I turn around… Alright, me and this Middle-Eastern-looking man. It’s routine? Okay. I think, “It’s not your fault. Just do, let me be going.”

Yet, like what exactly do you imagine I’m packing in my carry-on, that I’ve just brought through customs, by the way? And why me, and not the other very white, non-citizens I got off the plane with?

It’s derisory, the scenario. At least, she made an effort to not upset the things in my bags, and hand them over the exact way I left them for her. I almost laughed.

The one that pains me the most is how they’ll now wish you a safe flight, or thank you, or something after the rubbish.

I don’t kuku answer. I’m not a mad person. I possess dignity. Also, in any case, I’m already thinking about the bigger issue of our life when travelling as a Nigerian.

There’s one thing to follow due process in airports – Take off your jacket, bring out your laptop, take off your shoes, present yourself for a pat down, etc. Then, there’s this other thing.

This one where we’re selected because of what we look like AND where we come from, and subjected to unwarranted searches and lines of questioning.

In cases worse than mine, people are totally humiliated.

Travelling as a Nigerian can be messy when you’re not in an exotic destination, eating similar food, drinking, dancing, laughing, or relaxing on a beach, and the people around you think you’re truly special.

I can’t be the only one that dreads the possibility of this other potential ‘special treatment’ we get whenever we’re going through formal travel processes.

I’m signing off wondering who else has similar stories, thoughts, and desired solutions to share. Please, do.