It's hard to believe that I have been back a week already. It certainly has been a week of playing catch-up or trying to...

 But to backtrack to just over a week before that...

On Thursday evening (and I'm supposed to fly on Friday) the Nigerian company sends through a pdf copy of a money wire as proof of payment... On Friday morning, literally an hour before I need to leave home for the airport, I'm sitting in the travel agent's office hoping she will accept the pdf and issue the ticket. She does - and I get back with 15 minutes to throw my bags in the car and head out to the airport.

Departure one went according to plan, albeit with some anxiety as there was no word from the passport people to confirm they had successfully collected one passport with visa... but there was an SMS by the time I landed in Jhb.

Despite thinking that I had arranged plenty so spare time, I had enough time to collect my passport (yes, with visa) from Rennies and purchase a few dollars - they fortunately had my details on record... I'd forgotten about all the proof of residence requirements. Once checked in I had about 30 minute spare before boarding, and I thought I would have an hour or two - just as well there were no emergencies.

The 6 hour flight into Lagos was uneventful; apart from takeoff being delayed as we waited for two people who were being deported to board with their warders. Started with an aisle seat next to a talkative and space hogging Niergian national, but was able to relocate to a window seat with no neighbour after takeoff - which made for a pleasant flight.

I found a co-passenger in Lagos, before finding the person who was supposed to collect us - but we did make contact and were taken to a hotel for the night. Lots of power outages, air conditioners are a must, and the beds in Nigeria are hard.

Nigerians remind me of Italians. They are as vocal , outspoken and emotional when things do not go their way  - and their driving is worse. I'm still amazed that I did not witness a number of minor accidents.

I was supposed to be collected at 5am to be take to the airport for an early morning flight to Abuja. I thought I had my cell phone set to automatically check the time in each location - and duly set my alarm, for what turned out to be an hour early. I read. 5 o' clock came - no driver. 5:10 - still no driver. I'm now phoning to find out what I'm supposed to do and am told that the driver is on the way. 5:20 - no driver; 5:30 - no driver, and the other person starts to panic too... and they make noises to arrange a taxi. As the taxi arrives at 5:45 so does the driver.

We did a hair raising dash to the airport - fortunately there was no traffic, and I got there in enough time - in fact had quite a wait before takeoff. Virgin Nigeria is not known for flying on time.

Was met in Abuja and whisked to the Sheraton Hotel... It was hot in the middle on winter...

Despite going for several walks on the weekend I didn't get to see much of Abuja - there's not that much to see, particularly on a Sunday, and Monday was the start of the conference. 

Hotel was pleasant and comfortable, with a generator to protect us from regular power outages (sounds like home - except home does not have a generator)... but did not have the promised FREE internet connection, and I ended up paying ridiculous amounts until finally being given WiFi access at the conference on midday on Wednesday and learning about the free WiFi at the Sheraton in the Business Lounge on the 8th floor - hey - at least I got to use it once or twice before I left! Just as well I had managed to arrange for someone to be on standby to do my contract work if I needed it - because I needed it!

The experience at the conference was potentially life changing. It was the first time I've had the opportunity to meet and get to know people who have been living with HIV for between 10 and 17 years. Hearing some of their experiences was a revelation.
The return home was about as eventful as trying to get to Nigeria in the first place.

My flight was from Abuja to Lagos, so I caught a taxi to the domestic terminal - that's logical, right? I should have been warned by the scepticism the driver displayed, but I found out soon enough that I needed to be at the international departure terminal.
Ignoring people's advice to only pay NGN 500 for the (very) short trip, I dragged my two trolley cases (one clothing, one computer) and walked there on foot. (Let's hear it for cases on wheels!).

Was still well in time and booked in without too much hassle, but was not able to get the luggage booked through to Jhb. Joined several queues when the Virgin Nigeria flights were announced at about my boarding time - only to find they were for earlier flights that were still to take off.

Eventually, it was out turn, and we boarded and waited on the tarmac in the hot sun in a plane which did not seem to have working air conditioning. We eventually taxied off towards the driveway - and were then told by the pilot that we did not have permission to take off. They were blaming paper work, but it was fairly apparent that it was the plane itself that was not allowed to fly.

We taxied round and waiting on the tarmac, packed in like sardines in the blistering sun - until we eventually changed planes (while the new plane was still refuelling) and took off for Lagos.

Landed, luggage collected, checked in again, waited... waited... eventually boarded and took off ab hour late. The return flight was jam packed and afforded no luxuries and the night was sent tossing and turning in a cramped seat. Fortunately my next door passenger shut his eyes and slept the entire trip.

Jhb and immigration. Tired. Long queues. Eventually get to the front and am asked for my yellow card. My what? When I had checked whether I needed a yellow fever injection to get into Nigeria, nobody bothered to tell me that I would need one to get back home.
I'm told to go back to the medical centre and arrange the injection. Hhmm. We're an hour late, I have a connecting flight, I'm tired, I'm still in the same clothes I sweated in with lots of other people on the plane that could not take off from Abuja - and I want to go home!
Nobody is at the medical centre. I phone the number. They promise to get hold of the medic. She arrives with somebody else and attends to them first. Another person  in the same predicament joins me and we wait. 

Finally it's our turn and the medic wants R550. Neither of us are carrying that much in Rands. We're told we can draw money from the ATM - but the ATM is, of course, on the other side of immigrations. We finally establish that we can pay in USD - at a premium, of course, at USD 99 (and no dollar change offered either).

A few minutes later, a poke in the shoulder follows and I have my yellow card. Immigration is now all but deserted, but I get someones attention and am allowed through. I rush to the luggage carousel, expecting not to find my luggage. Had visions of it being impounded after it did the lone circuit as the last baggage left...

But as I got there, I had to fight the crowds, listening to the apology for the delay in baggage delivery. Mine was the third bag out - so I was, after all, one of the first to get out the terminal.

Mad dash, check in - relax. Exchange forex... start to feel not so good...

Arrive in Durban, feeling if you'll excuse the pun) decidedly spacey, woozy and YELLOW. Saturday - good to be home, but the day is a right-off. Not able to think, can barely make a meal, but it is good to be home.

Sunday - feeling better. Start to catch up on work... Wednesday - not feeling that good again - suspect it is (again) a reaction to the yellow fever jab. Unable to do anything productive on Wednesday or Thursday, but somehow get my contract work done.

Friday feeling better - and today seem to be back to normal... and the driveway has just been completed (by a second contractor). Did I mention that it is good to be home - even if my room does not have air conditioning like the Sheraton ...