Keka bi kyerƐ no
One of the travel policies of my workplace was that a foreigner would be provided meet and greet services at the airport. I’ll call them ‘Angels’. They would take you through airport procedures and make sure you got to your next destination safely. It’d always been a hassle-free process, until I met her royal highness.
On this day, a colleague and I were trying to get home from Lagos. We had already endured hours of flight delays and couldn’t wait to leave. Our ‘Angels’ deposited us at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport into a small corner, handed us over to a team who would help us through airport proceedings. We were deposited in their ‘office’ at a corner of the airport. the people thronging through the airport, waiting.
A young woman comes up to us. She’s fair, slim.
“Let’s go.” She waves, making no effort to hide her apparent annoyance at whatever.
I exchange looks with my colleague. No, I’m not seeing things. She’s noticed too. Nonetheless, we grab our luggage and follow her ladyship, headed towards the check-in counter.
Seconds into our walk down the hall, Her royal majesty turns.
“Hurry up, now.”
Ha! This woman.
At this point, she has perforated my very thick nice-girl shell and it’s cracking badly. Because I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening. You know those people who take a look at you from head to toe, all the while calculating how much respect to give you? Yep. Our theory is that her ladyship had taken a look at us, two unimpressive, ‘chingilingi’, baby-faced girls and apparently, decided to give us the ‘bad-child’ treatment. It’s not the first time something like this has happened to either of us.
While in the small corner, we were given some forms to fill and I’m still holding mine, waiting to fill it while in the queue. We joing the queue and Her excellency comes up to me.
“Where’s your form?”
I hold it up.
“Don’t you know how to fill it?”
She snatches the form and starts to write.
Lord, have mercy.
I . Was. Mad.
What rubbish! Who did she think she was? This wasn’t our first time in the airport. We knew our way around, and were not about to be pushed around by some nati nati girl who was frustrated with herself! Abufus3m!
On and on I fume, spewing hatred in my mind. I’ve had enough. We’re going to continue without her.
It’s our turn.
My colleague gets her boarding pass.
The lady at the counter checks her screen.
“You don’t have a ticket.”
Pardon?
“Yes, I do. See.” I have my ticket all printed out.
“The ticket was not confirmed.”
Also, there are closing the counter so I’d better get a ticket from the ticket office ASAP.
Ha.
Before I can even say pim, her majesty is already leading the way. Up the stairs to the office within seconds, she steps up to speak with the man in charge.
Yes, there’s a ticket available.
I hold out a card.
“We only take cash.”
Ha … okay, I will go downstairs to an ATM.
Sorry, we are closing now now and will not wait.
At this point de3, the possibility of missing the flight, the last for the day, was becoming real. Where was I going to get that much money in that instan…
I turned to madam.
Auntie, please do you have?
Have ke? Madam counted out the money sharp sharp. I got the ticket, rushed downstairs and checked in just in time.
She had saved the day!
You would think after all we had been through in the last five minutes, Nana would brighten up small. Apuu. All the way down to the ATM and back through immigration, madam stayed true to form. But this time, we just shook our heads, deciding only that there would not be a next time.
Some days, I wish I had given her a piece of my mind. She deserved it, rude and unprofessional as she was. But then, I wonder what would have happened. Would she have still offered up her money, saving me from getting stranded at the airport?
Probably not.
Keka bi kyer3 no: Tell them your mind (sorta ).
