Was gonna tell y’all Tiffany Haddish is my new crush but wet wipes seem more important now

Hola peeps.

Field trip from hell! All time spent on R.I.G. in Nigeria was as a “company man” so was treated like royalty. This week I got to experience how mere mortals live. Client did not have accommodation so had to ask a fellow contractor to accommodate me and the team. Now we were thankful for this but did not realize contractor took DIY to the extreme: room occupants had to clean own rooms, do own laundry, etc. Room I was placed in was so rank a new bedsheet was purchased and even at that I slept in a hood so no part of me would touch mattress. Also bought new bedsheet to wrap around pillowcase as seemed pillowcase was handed down by the lowest caste of landfill scroungers.

Day 1: Saw the Juba airport “things are tough” pal, but he failed to ask for anything. Maybe ‘cos he noticed I was on a domestic flight or maybe he’s actually changed his ways? Good on him. Arrived at aforementioned filthy camp site and heard some poor guy’s story of fleeing his Syrian homeland when ISIS took over the oilfields. They offered him an option to work in the oilfields for them, but he refused and so his house and cars were confiscated and his family was banned from leaving town. Took a year to escape with his wife and kids. Now lives in Sudan.

Bathroom was dire…real dire and no hot water so desperately searched for alternative accommodation. Bathroom was one of those toilet bowls-cum-shower combos, but this was extra tiny so one would have to contort self to avoid touching grimy walls or placing feet in toilet bowl in order to take a shower. When I took a dump, I laid 5 layers of bog roll on bowl to avoid catching a non-curable disease.

Day 2: Did not shower before heading to work as had hoped to secure another accommodation before end of day. That did not materialize so returned to what we termed Camp WC (Water Closet) only to find there was no running water. Talk about complaining about not having shoes then seeing someone with no feet.

Moaned bitterly to pals in town and they offered suggestions that ranged from using wet wipes – wish I had some – to MacGyvering a way to shower with a 600ml bottle of water. Now I know how it feels to attend a Ja Rule-organized music festival. Settled for doing a rain dance in the end – did not work - as rained like crazy when I left Juba yesterday but not a drop since we arrived here. My pelvic thrust brings all the girls (and water truck) to the yard and they’re like it’s better than yours and…

Day 3: Water truck arrived in the morning – do not underestimate the power of the thrust - and relished bathing with chilly water. Well, maybe relish is a strong word ‘cos I already told you how rank the bathroom was, right? Still, even though I had not attended yoga class in yonks I am glad I still practiced standing on one foot (tree pose?) before every gym session. It was the only way I could wash bottom of feet without any body part touching grimy bathroom wall. I was told the key to keeping balance during tree pose is keeping eyes fixed on a spot/object in front of you. Some people can do it with eyes closed but I am not there yet so had to concentrate on dirty toilet bowl to keep steady. Memo to self: make an appointment with shrink to hypnotize thought from head.

Highlight of day was going to local market to eat fried fish. Had seen fish when we stopped at market yesterday for colleagues to have tea/coffee/shisha at one of the local establishments. Interestingly, we saw a mad woman sucking milk directly from a cow’s udder yesterday as well. When she was done getting her dairy on she passed by us today and we all avoided eye contact, but she still made an aggressive before huffing away. Well, today after the fish as we got into the car she darted towards the car and accused a colleague of striking her above the eye. We rapidly drove off. My kickboxing lessons have not developed to the point where I engage a mad person.

Returned to camp and noticed a kettle in room with a cello tape around it. Something told me to try it and it worked! Yaaay, hot water at last. After pouring two full kettles of hot water in a bucket I was about to boil a third to surprise colleagues in adjoining room, but kettle would no longer function. I banged it around, nada. Tried my pelvic thrust a few times in direction of kettle, nada. Before I left Juba, my Swiss neighbor had lamented waking up twice one night as her TV appeared to turn itself on. The second time she unplugged it from the mains. Teased her about having a poltergeist in her apartment. Well, it appears the poltergeist musta travelled from Juba as it is now messing with kettle.

Day 4: Been sleeping in fits and starts since I arrived here but last night was particularly bad. Had a weird ass dream that was like a scene from the Jungle Book with an especially massive snake and talking animals. We landed a small plane on a Namibian island with all these creatures with the aim of endorsing a lucrative oil deal. However, we got frightened of being stuck on the island for good after one of the talking animals with a penchant for sniffing human butt – it got agitated after a companion tried to show the white Namibians how to twerk – threatened, in an East African lady’s accent, to bite colleague in the butt if she didn’t read it a bedtime story. Was so freaked out when I woke up I rushed outta room and immediately went to the office.

In the evening as I attempted to throw out the trash in the designated receptacle in a dimly lit area of the camp site I saw a stray dog. Normally this wouldn’t bug me as all dogs I have seen dash at sight of humans, but this dog musta known I had a weird dream about talking animals last night ‘cos it stared at me and stood its ground. After glancing around and noticing other humans were safely ensconced in their rooms I regret to inform you I backed away from stray dog.

By the way kettle ain’t working. Banged it around a few times but nyet as Trump’s Russian pals would say. In one last desperate move I did the pelvic thrust while placing the mirror at an angle so full range of thrust could repair kettle a la the Care Bear Stare. Still did not work.

Day 5: First thing I did when I woke up and realized it was extra bright outside was to take trash to main receptacle. Was really, really hoping the stray dog from last night – did I mention it was as huge as a horse? – would be out so I’d give it the Full Contact treatment, but ah no such luck. That doggy horse was lucky.

Discovery of day was option of different meals served at work site so tried Indian food this afternoon. Loved the pepper. Missed pepper so much.

Received a call from the traffic police in Juba who stopped me last Monday for Driving While Foreign (DWF). Was on way to drop off mate at airport when I was stopped for jumping a red light. My pleas that light was green fell on deaf ears as five guys surrounded me. Knew the score so waited until they went after other cars and one guy remained with me. Gave him documents and told him to hold on to them while I drove to airport so mate wouldn’t miss her flight. He requested for my phone number as documents were copies – learnt never to hand over original car documents from incident in Nigeria - so took his and gave him mine. I coulda fled after airport trip was done but I kept my word and gave him a li’l something for lunch. Since then he calls randomly. Today his lament was, “Baba, this sun is too hot...” Told him I was away from Juba but would holler once I get in. Might drop off a carton of water for him and his traffic pals. Hee Hee.

Juba Arabic classes paying off as it’s helping me communicate with Egyptian colleagues. Naturally, mistakes are made like when one of the guys insinuated that a drug for upset stomach should be taken every 6 years instead of every 6 hours. I am also using them to perpetuate the myth of Full Contact and ensures it goes global. Case in point is my volunteering to ride along with military escorts to a site when they expressed discomfort due to reports of kidnapping in the area. They probably gonna spread stories of how macho I am when I only volunteered ‘cos I knew since escorts began insecurity has generally been curbed. They ain’t privy to this so best keep that between us.

Day 6: Last night dreamt I was approached by Diane Kruger to help save the US Constitution from being stolen a la Nic Cage movie National Treasure. Woke up just after I lunged at the bad guys in best kickboxing leap. Dreams getting better though wish it was a better movie from Nic Cage’s oeuvre. Face/Off perhaps?

Day 7: No spectacular dreams last night though only dreamt of upcoming secondary school reunion that I won’t be able to attend. I know I say this all the time but amazing how folks really don’t change much from high school days…. well, except folk like a close pal who felt it was funny to send us a video of him in his underwear doing his best Nollywood actor’s impression. This 43-year-old man started dating a 22-year-old university student last month and I hate to think that’s the reason ‘cos I have ventured into a similar age dating gap scene before, but something’s def off with him. Really?! You let a gf/lover record you in your tidy whities?! What happens when/if you fall out with her?

(Dude must be bored, and to think what we did on boring days in secondary school when we used to rank which public figure we reckoned had the worst poop stench. I remember the final was between Heavy D and the Queen of England. Cannot recall who won though.)

Speaking of falling out, I recall my mom hammering on about some insensitive stuff I did when I was 4 or 5. She would go on about how I have never truly cared for her and her go-to story was about time she was hospitalized with complications from Kemi’s birth and when I was asked to tag along to see her I told them to say hi to her as I was busy watching TV. Yesterday I tried incessantly to call my daughter on FaceTime ‘cos internet connection was wonky and when I finally got through she said hello and immediately asked, “can I press the red button?” to wrap up the conversation. Her mom had to cajole her to keep talking. Man, it burned and I have tried everything to keep her interested. Other day I cut out one eyepatch of those airplane sleep masks in an attempt to impersonate a pirate. Miss Thang wasn’t interested. Nearly donned on taekwondo outfit last month so I’d demonstrate some moves for her. Are these a result of my actions at mom coming back to bite me in the butt? Hmmmm.

Day 8: For some reason, I assumed I would be going home tomorrow and thus, had just one night left in this place. Felt depressed. Rest of day was a blur. Went to camp early and slept.

Day 9: Woke up happy realizing that yes in fact I have one night left before escaping to Juba. Joy oh joy. Went to market for tea and encountered mad woman – one sucking milk from cow udder – again. Think a particular Egyptian colleague is the jinx ‘cos whenever we are not with him we never see her. Other day like I told you she charged at car and was railing at him. This time she stepped to us and retreated repeatedly. Did this about 5 times. We tried not to make eye contact and tea vendor drove her away eventually. At one point, she picked up a rock then replaced that with a stick. She kept railing on about kawaja (Caucasian) and since Egyptian dude’s real light skinned we were correct that he was the object of her tirade.

In other news Kate Beckinsale has broken up with her boyfriend. Just in time for me to return to Juba and head to the UK to seek her out. Speaking of which I often wonder what actresses like her and Halle Berry do for money. Real pretty and talented but without much of an active career. Oh well.

Day 10: You know that whole not-counting-chicks-before-they-hatch line? Well, I never seem to learn. When the flight manifest was sent yesterday evening it was discovered my name had been left out. Even though I had reservation confirmed 3 days ago the Einsteins at reservation desk left name out. So, spent last night praying and trying not to get depressed. Need to get on that plane man, need to.

Got to the airport real early after contacts in the field got me an “emergency” pass. Guy whose job it is to just issue boarding passes decided he had greater powers and wanted to know why I was leaving on an emergency pass. Normally I woulda raised a fuss and blamed his department for messing up, but I assumed best referential pose and mumbled something about the vagaries of modern technology and our dependence on them and how it wasn’t really his department’s fault and how if he could use his kind office to find me a spot on the plane and…...let’s just say I surprised even myself with how much browner my nose could get. Even more surprising was how high my voice was. It was like I was the reverse Benjamin Button where I was returning to puberty. If that wasn’t bad enough the illiterate punk then blamed me for spelling last name on ID wrongly; he thought it had two Os when first one was just my middle initial. Then cracked a joke at how complicated my name was. I smiled and thanked kind massa for letting me on his flight.

While pacing (read praying for flight to arrive on time and nothing else to jinx flight) back and forth another over-officious parvenu instructed me to seat down. So first I am not allowed to use my laptop at the airport for “security reasons”, say I buy that, and now I am not allowed to walk around because of what exactly? Again, I woulda normally argued and put my point across but backed down and resumed sitting with rest of the passengers. Observed they all did not have their laptops out or walk around. These guys have been truly trained. Cannot say I blame them though. I spend 10 days here and itching to get out while some of these guys have spent up to two months. Now I get why they do not want to cause a ruckus and get outta here asap.

Thank God, the plane arrived on time and I was first one in the queue. Like that airport scene from Argo I could not wait for plane to take off. Soon as it did I breathed a sigh of relief. They could take my hot water but they could not take my FREEDOM!!!!  After channeling William Wallace, I snoozed off. Landed an hour later in Juba and suddenly my chest felt a little bigger, my shoulders broader. Now had a certain swag about me. Driver picked me up, dropped off bag at home and went to get a haircut. Now I’d normally do it myself as barbers do not get head as clean-shaven as I can with a razor, but I needed to get pampered. After the hair cut I got some ice cream and went to the office to finish up workload before trip tomorrow. Got home at 6pm, packed then spent an eternity under a hot shower. Had dinner with neighbours who are leaving South Sudan for good then went to bed.

Day 11: If I thought eighth day in the field was a blur today was blurrier. Before I knew it, it was time to check in at the airport. X-ray machine at Juba airport has been wonky for 3 weeks now so one must open luggage for inspection before it is loaded on plane. Left hand luggage in car and keys to padlock were in it. While trying to contact driver to bring the keys some airport hanger-on who insisted he carry bags even though they were near empty insisted I need not bother. Dude got a ballpoint pen and with the sharp end he stabbed a hole through zip and voila, my bags were opened. Once inspection was dome he ran zipper over hitherto open slot and bag was back to normal. Freaky. Wonder why I bother with padlocks when anyone can nick stuff from bag.

While inspecting bag airport luggage dude wondered why bags were near empty except for tubs of local sheabutter. Told him the tubs were gifts for family and friends in Nigeria and when he enquired where I purchased them and I told him he requested for a receipt. Truthfully told him I wasn’t given one, but big man threatened to detain bag. Laughed and told him he could keep the sheabutter if he wanted. Wasn’t gonna be cowed, son. Now in my territory of Juba not the field anymore. What a difference a hot shower makes, huh? Nah, make that 2 hot showers! Last night I slept under a duvet for the first time in 10 days damn it, no immigration dude is gonna subsume tasks that aren’t his and try to intimidate me. He eventually backed down, asked for my passport and tried to make a joke about the my name. Wasn’t having it today. Took my passport and walked out with swag intact.

Just when I was about to board the “life is tough” dude saw me and questioned if anyone had come between us. “You used to give me a little something for breakfast, what has happened lately?” Turns out he has not changed a bit. What an eventful 2 weeks, eh? Yup, gonna miss being away from this place, but I need the break.

Tot ziens and God bless.