Nobody gets a second chance to make a first impression. If you go to the river for a swim and, in your very first attempt at testing the depth, a crocodile attempts to snatch your foot, would you still dive in and give the croc a hearty breakfast?

That is exactly how tourism functions. There are no sentiments. You travel to countries that are likely to give you the treasure of good memories. At times you take a chance, even after being warned by the plethora of consular and travel agency sites. If you make an enquiry about Nigeria on the Canadian site, it would tell you, “Avoid non-essential travel to Nigeria, including in Abuja, due to the unpredictable security situation throughout the country and the significant risk of terrorism, crime, inter-communal clashes, armed attacks and kidnappings.”

Travel Advisories

The United States, on her part, advises that Nigeria’s threat position is Level 3: “Reconsider Travel. Reconsider travel to Nigeria due to crime, terrorism, civil unrest, kidnapping, and armed gangs.”

If those are the only threats a foreign visitor would be expected to cope with, perhaps some could still venture here. Indeed many still do because they have to. Don’t believe the baloney that Nigeria is broke. Go to the major airports and see the hundreds of foreigners begging to be allowed to experience our inhospitable airport setup and procedures on a daily basis.

But soon, pretty soon, many will have to damn the consequences and look elsewhere for their fortune rather than continue to expose themselves to the embarrassment and indignities guaranteed to be served to arriving passengers at our airports.

The recent video of a lady who narrated her terrible experience at the Murtala Mohammed International Airport made embarrassed Nigerians cover their faces in shame. The lady was scandalised that every other airport worker or law enforcement agent she encountered was either a beggar (“Didn’t you bring anything for me?”) or an extortionist who would waste your time with stupid questions and merry-go-rounds until you wisened up and greased his palms.

We see these things every day but they no longer make any impression on our psyche. We have failed to heed Tai Solarin’s admonition that we must confront evil at every turn or risk the affliction of being unshockable. We tolerate bad behaviour among public officials manning the gateway to our country, thereby poisoning the stream of first impression from source.

Shakedowns

There are levels to the programmed stress on offer at our international airports. The immigration officer may simply ask stupid personal questions for a prolonged length of time, just to appear friendly, before begging for alms. Experienced visitors to Nigeria simply squeeze a $50 bill into the hands of the official to cut the crap.

With Customs, the style is different. Even when you pass through the ‘Nothing To Declare’ lane, the customs hawks will still swoop on you and insist that you open your suitcase. In other countries, once your luggage passes through the scanner and there’s nothing suspicious in it, you are free to exit the airport. But here, Customs officials rifle their dirty hands with the same gloves they’ve been wearing for ages, in search of items they can beg you to dash them.

Then, there is the horde of NDLEA officers, Port Health Quarantine Services, airport security, and several unidentified characters wearing reflective jackets. Many of them are piercing arriving passengers with hungry eyes thinking up stratagems to make hay. By the time the passenger finally scales the Arrival hurdle, he needs to relieve himself. He makes for the restroom only to be confronted by another Nigerian invention— toilet mendicancy.

I drew attention to this embarrassing development in a column I wrote for the Daily Trust in 2016. Titled, “Amaechi and Sirika Must Read This!”, the article told the story of the embarrassment passengers were being subjected to by alms-seeking cleaners in the restrooms.

Toilet Beggars

A throwback: “Good morning sir; welcome!” said the young man in a cleaner’s uniform in the restroom of the Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Abuja.

The passenger answers grudgingly. There is solicitation for alms written all over the cleaner and the passenger was not in the mood for such a game, more so as it was just 6.30am. The cleaner follows the passenger to the urinal as if the traveller needed assistance to unzip.

“My friend, can I have some privacy, please? Why would you be following me like this?”

The cleaner backed off and moved over to the wash-hand basin. As soon as the passenger was done, the cleaner was ready with liquid soap and tissue paper to ‘assist’ him in washing his hands.

The passenger was exasperated: “Please put the soap and toilet paper where they should be. Nobody needs your assistance to put soap in their hands and dry them after washing”.

“Sorry, sir, I’m only trying to help.”

The passenger ignored him and washed his hands. As he brought out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands, the cleaner’s face fell as if he had just been bereaved. But he wasn’t done yet.

“Journey mercies, sir. I am just like your child. Have a nice day, sir.” The passenger understood that code. It was the airport equivalent of the police greeting at checkpoints: “Happy weekend, my Oga; your boys are greeting you!”

Beggars, beggars, everywhere!

The Arrival Terminal at the international airport is similarly rigged to shake down passengers. An excellent exposé on the scandalous state of affairs was made by Premium Times’ Oladeinde Olawoyin in his November 2018 report titled, “INVESTIGATION: At Lagos airport, officials still extort travellers”  (https://www.premiumtimesng.com/news/headlines/294017-at-lagos-airport-officials-still-extort-travellers.html?tztc=1).

I was surprised last week at the surprise expressed by the Minister of Aviation and Aerospace Development, Festus Keyamo, over the prevalence of touts and extortionists at the country’s international airports. Where has he been all this while? And his attempt to exculpate his ministry did not gain any traction. “Just to set the records straight, most of the agencies involved in this menace are not under the control of the Aviation Ministry, though they are stationed at our airports.”

Airport users, Nigerians and foreigners alike, don’t care whose business it is to rid our airports of the multiple leeches infesting them. They just want to be able to use our airports without hassle as they do in other climes — and that can’t be too much to ask.

Nothing less than the image of Nigeria is at stake.

Edun, Tunji-Ojo, Keyamo

The three ministers in charge of the parent ministries supervising the Customs, Immigration and FAAN, respectively, are Wale Edun of Finance, Olubunmi Tunji-Ojo of Interior and Festus Keyamo of Aviation and Aerospace Development.

Between these three gentlemen, it should be possible to retrieve whatever is left of our national pride and for once cleanse our airports of uniformed beggars and other supplicants in mufti. We are not the only country with poor people in the world (and how poor is an official who already has a job)? What is at play at our airports is not caused by poverty but by greed, shamelessness, lack of self esteem and habitual impunity. Corrupt officials know that they will not be sanctioned for bad behaviour because sleaze has become an accepted way of life. Aviation watchers are convinced that nothing short of a massive overhaul of the personnel ((replace with only the best), and re-introduction of electronic gadgets (CCTVs and scanners) will do the trick.

It is bad enough that foreigners have to contend with negative advisories discouraging them from visiting Nigeria; what really rankles is having them discover that the advertised banditry and stylised robbery actually starts from the international gateway.