Fear of Flying? It’s Not Just the Stale Dough-nuts

 

 

These days, I’m so scared of boarding any plane - including the one my little nephew “manufactures.” The boy has been so adamant recently that I must go everywhere in his paper-plane. But I refuse, no matter how tired I get. And that, really, is often. Especially, since Umaru Dikko promised to incite Hausa youths, with English Language, into Jihad.

 

Anyway, my “fear of flying” has nothing to do with the stale dough-nuts they serve on board. I have “constitutional immunity” against food poisoning. And, in fact, one pilot even assured me traveling by Nigerian planes could increase life expectancy. That is, if you aren’t expecting much from life. And the airhostesses. Those special breed of ladies! I always marvel the way they keep themselves so neat. Some even manage a whole flight without scratching their heads more than twenty times. And they sometimes go through the ritual of flight instructions without pulling off all their wigs. It’s a miracle! Anybody who engages in a “nasal monologue” 27,000 feet above sea level – in the name of flight instructions – must be a miracle worker. Or mad. At least, enough to remind you that you had not just lost your money, but might soon die. Thank you for being such a fool. And say your last prayers!

 

HOSTESS: “Ladies and gentlemen, you are welcome aboard XYZ flight. In case you are still alive, when the plane rattles, there’s no cause for alarm. Please, do not shout so you don’t wake the pilot. We shall be flying with an attitude above the clouds. And in case we make a brief stop on somebody’s roof, you are forbidden to get down. This plane would fly according  to the weather – and that means wind-control. Even though the captain is drunk, you don’t have to worry because we have ‘autopilot.’ Well, in case of emergency, there are four exits from this plane. One for women; the other for men. One for the rich and; the other for the poor. You are advised to jump first before helping your neighbour. Especially if her goat ever ate your yam. Please, while in fright, don’t make the mistake of breathing. Have a wonderful fright.”

 

Okay, I agree, we are all mad. All the “flying” crowd of us. Hell! How do people manage the nerves to climb into a flying coffin? Imagine! With about three plane crashes a day – one each for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Nigeria is not only breaking the record. We are breaking CDs and cassettes, too. I know, the frequent crashes are supposed to improve appetite, but it doesn’t.  Not after a “molue” air ride. That’s why I walk most times from my bedroom to the toilet. Which  is as far as trekking from Lagos to Abuja.

 

I hate flying, but what do I do? If only I was from Ethiopia or Kenya, where everybody runs a marathon race. That way, I wouldn’t need to fly. A few hours jogging from Calabar  to Pakistan can’t kill anybody.

In the last few months, planes have been crashing almost on daily bases. It’s got so bad I run out of the house each time a bird scratches the roof. Ha! Who knows, it could be plane crash. The other day, one crashed into my friend’s garden. Another fell into a colleague’s kitchen. And even in my village, some guys found an engine of a plane in a thick forest. The fuselage had been eaten by ants.  The survivors? Only the ants!

 

Funny things happen these days in the aviation sector. And all the authorities can do is read terse statements in thick vernacular. Then they suspend a pilot or two – without touching the actual problem. Our traditional Nigerian way of solving ailments - attack the symptoms. Leave the actual problems to grow so somebody can get a few contracts from them, thank you. The way they are going, all the pilots might  soon be suspended there won’t  be any to fly a “molue.”

 

Well, here’s a tip. To guard against rumours, don’t board a plane with human beings inside.  I once made that mistake and swore never to try it again. On that occasion, a passenger next to me almost got me charged with  treason, along with Al-Mustapha. What he did? He gossiped! “Hey! Bros, I know I shouldn’t be talking to you but this plane is so noisy I can’t hear myself. So, I am just trying to be sure that somebody else can hear me. Well, I heard the Nigerian government is so bad that they can’t even repair the roads in the air.” Just then, the plane hit a few pockets of cloud and the Iwu man insisted the road was bad. “You see?  They said when Anenih was the Works minister, he did not build any road in the air. That is why there are pot holes everywhere. Now, Ogunlewe has been busy patching one spot on Ikorodu Road, since last year.  He has forgotten this “air-road” like they did the Eastern roads.” I can’t remember saying anything. So, he turned to the hostess.

PASSENGER: “Conductor! Condo! Abeg, tell the driver to take it easy-o. The road is too bad –o. And I want to attend Bimbo’s naming ceremony in one piece -o. I want to see my grandchild before I die - o. After that, Boda Segun would do Thanksgiving and everybody would be there, including that Igboman, Udenwa  - to beg for debt forgiveness. Yes, ke!”

 

HOSTESS: “Oga, calm down. There’s no cause for alarm. Just relax. You can even sleep. If we crash-land safely, you would know. Or I would try to wake you.”

 

PASSENGER: “Ah! Did you say “if”? And if not? Ah! Egba mi-o! Driver, please, I want to come down at the next bus stop. Uwa –o! Uwa –o!”

 

Well, you can’t blame anybody for being afraid. Even my uncle, the guy who flew all the planes that destroyed Iraq prefers trekking these days.

 

Problem, really, is that we like pretending all is well. For years now, the aviation sector has been in a sorry state. But we always think it would go away when the “tombo” clears from our eyes. From the crews to the authorities, the attitude is the same. Once a plane I boarded emitted smoke from the cockpit while the crew admired the empty seats at the back. When the plane landed, the pilot praised the co-pilot for “bringing it in safely.” That’s when the magnitude of the problem hit us. He said the cables got burnt, affecting the air-conditioning system. But we suspected an engine problem.

 

We pretend to have airports, but do we? Swimming pools for runways. And grazing grounds, too. These days, our runways are either flooded or cows “land” on the dry spots, denying the planes “landing rights.” None of the airports has good landing facilities. Oh! Don’t you dare mention the planes. None can land safely in a bad weather. I’m told, not even the ones in the presidential fleet. Problem? Landing gears! Some idiots say that’s why  nobody can put a plane in reverse. Just like nobody can reverse death. For now, just pray it doesn’t rain when you’re in the air. Or your journey to Lagos may end in Kaduna. Which is still better than a mortuary!

 

• First published in Saturday Sun of  July 23, 2005