Nigéria – Part I
We stopped just before the border to eat, and some police officers approached us near our bikes. They asked Tomas to open his bags. I explained that I am Moroccan, and one of the officers mentioned that he had been to Casablanca. He was friendly and allowed us to proceed but asked us to register for our safety later. He also inquired if we were soldiers, and he seemed serious about it.
Crossing the border wasn’t quick. First, they asked Tomas about his Meningitis vaccine, which he didn’t have. They insisted he needed it, showing us a notice on the wall. I tried to be friendly and smile at them, but they hinted at wanting a bribe by asking how we could resolve the situation. To avoid losing time, I offered them a pair of sunglasses I had bought for $0.05, telling them it was my favorite pair. They were delighted, taking pictures and selfies with the sunglasses, and we were relieved not to have to pay a bribe.
Next, the immigration boss took us to his office where another person was sitting. He asked how long we had been living in Benin since we needed to be residents to get the visa. We had the same residence cards we made in Benin. I stayed silent because I don’t like to act as if people are foolish; he knew we weren’t living in Benin. Tomas told him six months, and the officer said, “OK, welcome to Nigeria.” He just wanted to hear this and let us go, even though he knew it wasn’t true.
Finally, we were in Nigeria, a country I had long wanted to visit. Despite warnings about scams, and kidnaping it’s also known for its vibrant music and culture, with a population of 250 million. Let the adventure begin!
after crossing, they check points are every 5 km or so, maybe 30 or more, the idea was don’t stop just riding other wise we will spend all the day there, it worked well we only stopped twice for immigration check. The police were friendly, and one of the officers who stopped us even offered us cold water. People were welcoming and said, ‘Welcome to Nigeria.’ Two guys on motorcycles invited us for food, but we were already running late. We thanked them, and they gave us three bottles of water so So far, so good Nigeria is welcoming us very well
Lagos was still far, and sometimes the roads weren’t in great condition. The front wheel wasn’t happy either. About 30 km from our host’s home, I asked a woman if I could use her internet to text him and ask for advice. It was already 5 pm, and we were still 34 km away. He suggested we find a hotel since it’s not safe to ride at night in Lagos, and the traffic can be crazy.
We asked the same woman about a hotel, and she directed us to one. The place had three barriers at the entrance, and they asked if our friend knew where we were. The building seemed odd, like we were walking into a kidnapping scene from an action movie. There was loud music, tables with alcohol, and the building that was supposed to be a hotel looked like an abandoned house. Two guys were giving us strange looks, then the manager showed us a pool and a bar with people. The manager was friendly and told us we had to wait until 6 pm. I asked him where to get a SIM card, and he said we’d need to go on a motorcycle. I informed Tomas that I would go, and he stayed with our things. The vibe was very wild.
The manager grabbed my hand like a child, and the traffic was crazy with people yelling and lots of motorcycles. We took a tuk-tuk, then walked to the agency to get the SIM card. I couldn’t get one with my passport, so the manager kindly got one with his name, and a worker there got a second one for Tomas. We went back to the hotel and sat with the manager, who had become our friend. He took us to buy something from a shop in a small area where all the shops looked like garages. You just gave them money through a small window, and then the electricity cut out, then we went back to the hotel, the manager said, “Once in your room, don’t open the door to anyone. You have my number; just call if there’s any problem. The people staying with you in the hotel are not good people.” I felt like I was in an action movie from 1992.
Despite everything, we were carrying kilos of money since the Naira, the local currency, is not that strong. We left the next day for Lagos, trying to avoid the infamous traffic. There was a boat that took people to the city center, but we found out it was already gone by 7 am, so we were late. Cycling out of that area was insane—traffic, motorcycles, everyone yelling. We passed a bridge where homeless people slept, which was a bit scary. Knowing the reputation of Nigeria, I had to be careful. In the end, everything turned out well. We were supposed to meet local cyclist in Lagos who would host us.
We got lost and ended up in one of the biggest markets in Lagos, full of colors and life. I enjoyed it even though it was crowded. Our host told us to stay put, and he would come. We had already made friends talking with the locals, who were full of energy. We had a great time while waiting, and Edward finally arrived. They asked him for money, and he gave them a small amount, explaining that this is how Nigeria works—just give them something so they don’t bother you.
We went with Edward, who was going to host us. He lived in a good, safe place with a cycling community. We met many cyclists, and the interesting part was that they trained starting from 5 AM to avoid traffic. They worked together in a coffee shop with a bike shop sponsored by some companies.
After two days, we moved to Carlos’ Couchsurfing host. Carlos is a third-generation Lebanese in Nigeria, and one of the best hosts you can have. He knows and loves Nigeria, and was incredibly helpful, suggesting routes and motivating us to go north. He even arranged for two security contacts to stay in touch with us. The road we planned to take was marked red, and everyone advised against it. Even the head of security for one of the big companies said it was a crazy idea and didn’t recommend it. The cycling community said they wouldn’t even take a bus to Abuja, known for its kidnapping risks, but we wanted to try.
We spent a week in Lagos and visited the computer village, where you can find any electronic material. I wanted to buy a new camera since mine was stolen in Cotonou. Although I found a suitable one, I decided it wasn’t a priority and needed to manage my budget carefully. After an amazing week in Lagos, we decided to head to Abuja and then decide on our next plan.
Today, our ride was quite lengthy—140 km through the chaotic Lagos traffic. The traffic was hectic, and it reminded me of the pollution I hadn’t experienced in the eight months on the road. The highway was crazy, with trucks coming from the opposite direction and speeding down the road. We stopped many times; the first stop was near the highway to buy pineapples. I always try to make fun with people by talking about football, which is the main point to make friends in Africa. I got excited and told the guys that Morocco will beat them in AFCON. The place didn’t look the safest, but the feeling was there.
We’re staying in Ibadan with a friend of Carlos after a rainy day. We went out at night to eat some local food, which was very delicious and spicy.
Starting a bit later than planned, we had 100 km left to our destination. The road was in terrible condition initially, plagued by traffic and intense heat, but it gradually improved, and the traffic eased. The locals were incredibly friendly, warmly welcoming us to Nigeria. The police stopped us once, not for any trouble, but merely to strike up a friendly conversation and snap some pictures.
In the evening, people were coming back from church, dressed in stunning African clothes bursting with vibrant colors. Nigeria is the place to experience the African vibe, with its vibrant clothing and rich culture everywhere. The road was green since it was the rainy season, and it was paved.
After visiting the Osun Osogbo Sacred Grove, a place rich in old Yoruba rituals, we saw people by the river engaged in prayers and other mystical practices. Continuing our cycling journey on another sunny day, the road had its ups and downs. After a few kilometers, we decided to take an off-road route, which was quite pleasant. The locals here weren’t accustomed to (Yoruba) tourists.
Our adventure took an unexpected turn when some armed individuals dressed in regular clothes and sandals emerged from the bush and stopped us. We were unsure if they were real police or impostors. Tomas asked to see their identification, and a man on a motorcycle stopped. It was then that we realized they were indeed security personnel. I thought to myself, “You silly girl, going to unsafe countries and enjoying it; this is action time for you.
After showing them our intentions as tourists exploring Africa, they wanted to check our luggage, starting with Tomas. We started to talk to them nicely and explain our situation, and they were starting to believe us. However, they asked us to wait for the chief. A few minutes later, the chief arrived and explained their concern for our safety due to a recent kidnapping case. They kindly offered to escort us to the end of the off-road route to ensure our security.
Over the past two days, I’ve been feeling quite tired maybe because uphills and downhills. It could be that I took too few breaks or perhaps the stress of hearing about potential kidnappings in the area. It’s a topic that everyone seems to bring up, cautioning us not to venture into certain places. It’s undeniable that Nigeria, like any large country, has its share of safety concerns, especially with a population exceeding 200 million. Even a small percentage of bad individuals can amount to a significant number.
Since the Boko Haram era, Nigeria has experienced a surge in crime rates, despite these challenges, I’ve found my time here to be enjoyable. Nigeria’s unique character, with its apparent lack of rigid rules and its enigmatic people, seems to align well with my personality. It’s a place where you can’t easily predict or understand people’s actions.
Today, we cycled through the Fulani region, where Muslim communities often lead a nomadic lifestyle. The road we chose, avoiding the busy routes to minimize traffic, turned out to be quite pleasant. The locals were incredibly welcoming, and although children initially appeared shocked to see us, a smile would light up their faces when we smiled back. People often asked us about our destination and warmly welcomed us to Nigeria. As a Muslim, I noticed that mentioning my faith seemed to create an immediate connection, and the reaction was heartwarming. “Oh, Meryem, so you’re a Muslim! Allahu Akbar!”
We stopped at a police station to inquire about the security situation in the region. Not only did they assure us it was safe, but they also wanted to take pictures with us. Nigerians seem to have a fondness for capturing moments with travelers like us. By 4:30 PM, we arrived in a town with a hotel, and considering the impending rain, we decided to spend the night there, people were friendly and funny, I always enjoy seeing the reaction when I said I came from Morocco by bike,
Starting at 11:30 AM because of the morning rain, we had 100 km to our destination with no idea about the road conditions. The first part was very bad, with broken asphalt, making me worried about breaking the bike again. However, the people were incredibly nice and not used to tourists, so we constantly heard, “Welcome to Nigeria, how are you?” and frequent requests for selfies. Kids were sometimes shocked, and I wish I could describe the look on their faces. Sometimes they just followed us, greeting us and welcoming us—never annoying, as it wasn’t a busy road, just motorcycles and a few cars passing by. The Fulani people all looked the same, and it was a nice vibe. I enjoyed riding in this area.
At 5:00 PM, we still had 20 km to the town. Everyone had advised us not to cycle at night, even the police. So, in this village, the police stopped us. They were surprised, almost as if they had found criminals, and started asking questions and showing pictures. They insisted on calling their boss. I was starting to get angry as it was already late and told them, “If we have to wait for your boss, you have to guide us to a hotel here; we still have 20 km on gravel roads.” When the boss came, he checked our passports, and he was smart enough to let us go and wished us a safe journey.
We started riding on this bad road with uphill sections, trying to make it before dark. Being unfamiliar with the area, we were cautious and heeded the advice we received. We made it just as the last moments of sunset were fading.
We found a hidden hotel with a bar right beside it that also sold food. We went out at night, and since the generator wasn’t on, it was dark. We got our food and went to the rooftop to eat, hoping that the place was safe enough. I don’t like places with drunk people, but in the end, it was quiet and safe, on our last day at the police check point, a man stopped for us. He was the son of the Amir of the region, and when we asked him about crossing the Niger River, he said, “I will go with you, it’s going to be fine.” but we didn’t take his number, so we will have to see how we manage since the ferry is not working.
We were set to cross the Niger River, but unfortunately, the ferry wasn’t operational, leaving us with only a pirogue as our option. It was clear that many others had the same idea, with numerous motorcycles and people waiting for passage.
We loaded our bikes and luggage onto the pirogue, even though it was already full. Attempts to overload it made some passengers quite angry, as there was barely enough space to move. The sunny day intensified the situation, with people everywhere and tempers flaring. It felt unsafe, with the pirogue dangerously overloaded, and the prospect of tragedy loomed, I had a talk with a guy there and he was complaining about the situation in Nigeria, saying this people don’t have electricity, and live in bad condition and that the government are not working for them.
My relatively short size allowed me to secure a comfortable spot where I managed to sleep for a blissful two hours. My rest was interrupted when the pirogue encountered a problem and had to be fixed. I was wondering what I was doing in this situation, stopping in the middle of the river with overloaded pirogue with a problem this is insane.
The locals didn’t seem overly stressed. It was as if such journeys were routine for them. At one point, a mother changed her baby’s soiled clothes and gave him an impromptu shower in the open air. The sight was touching, with the locals singing to the baby. It was a unique and heartwarming moment, she gave his drink from the river If I drink from this river I will have diarrhea for 4 day.
As we progressed, I stayed awake and engaged in conversation with the women on board. They kindly shared some beans with me. After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached our destination.
To break the monotony, Tomas decided to fly his drone, which always garnered amusing reactions from the locals. We left the village on an off-road route, passing by floating villages where people had to swim to reach their homes. The poverty in this area was evident, we stopped for lunch and we got the best goat meat in this journey.
At one point, we encountered some motorcycle riders who appeared to be hunters. Tomas approached them, asking if they could pose for his filming, we are kind of travelers that look for problems.
As expected, we encountered a police checkpoint along the way. After explaining our purpose and showing our passports, the officers, curious about our travels, started asking about our days on the road, our food, and even joked, “What do you have for us?” We shared a laugh and continued on our way, jokingly asking them, “What do you have for us? Look how we look, when was the last time you saw a bicycle travelers in this road”
The road ahead was picturesque, with traditional houses surrounded by mountains, making it a beautiful and memorable part of our journey.
So now, we’re taking only the main road to Abuja, which might take us around two days. We left Bida, and as I rode my bike, I noticed a lot of traffic. Thankfully, being on a bike allowed me to maneuver through. The road was in bad condition, with hundreds of trucks blocking the way. When I inquired, I was told it was due to a fuel shortage, with fuel prices skyrocketing from 200 Naira to 600 Naira. After cycling another 20 kilometers, I encountered more blocked roads. Another driver informed me it was simply due to the poor road conditions.
They had spent three days covering just 40 kilometers; I couldn’t believe it. So, we continued and eventually found some asphalt roads. We stopped in a Fulani area where the local kids were friendly. After covering 70 kilometers, it was already 4 PM, and we couldn’t find any place to stay. With 56 more kilometers to go to find accommodation or a police station, I was reluctant to stop, but Tomas wanted to rest. We debated whether to ask the police station in the town for a safe place to sleep beyond the town, but in the end, we decided to stay there.
In Nigeria, wild camping isn’t recommended due to security concerns. Even locals would be uneasy if they found someone camping in the middle of nowhere. Tomas wasn’t feeling well, and I suspected it might be malaria, but he denied it. In the evening, he took malaria pills. He’s now officially the “malaria master” after getting malaria three times during this trip. I couldn’t resist making fun of him. It wasn’t severe, just a mild case, but we’ve become quite familiar with the symptoms.
We still have 155 kilometers to go to reach Abuja, and we hope to make it in one day, but we’ll see how it goes.
Can we cover the 150 km in one day? We’re not early rider—Tomas is dealing with malaria, and I’m not the fastest rider this week. The road is a bit hilly, the weather is hot, and we’re only stopping to eat. After 70 kilometers, the weather changes dramatically from a scorching 44 degrees to a grey sky, followed by heavy rain.
We wait in a small shop where I order a coffee with tea. So far, we’ve only covered 75 kilometers. When we decide to continue, we encounter another checkpoint at a junction. The chief officer there is extremely unfriendly. Upon seeing the camera attached to my bike, he rudely instructs me to move it to the other side and demands our passports. In the pouring rain, we try to explain the purpose of our trip to the other staff.
The gruff officer asks for our corona vaccine documents and, noticing the difference between mine and Tomas’ documents, questions me about it. I remind him that we are from different countries. Feeling exasperated, I wonder why he’s still inquiring about the corona vaccine. He eventually spots my yellow carnet. Annoyed, I ask why he’s asking for it when it’s not his responsibility—immigration checked it before. We’re just tourists, tired and wet, and Tomas is sick. It’s infuriating how some officials treat us. The officer starts to smile and hands us the paper. Sometimes it seems like they’re just trying to provoke us into offering money. But with no respite from the rain, we decide to push on.
The traffic picks up, and we start passing through larger towns where unfriendly faces and a few questionable characters are quite visible. We manage to cycle 100 kilometers, and at 5:00 PM, we decide to stop. We’re soaking wet, hungry, and not in a hurry. We contact our host in Abuja to inform her that we won’t make it there today …
