Rally Photos

Where we work:
Photos of a rally, courtesy of G:

Rally

Transportation

Credit goes to G for these great images, taken on the way to -- perhaps during or after? -- a rally for our candidate, whom you'll see pictured on the side of the bus:


He also noticed that livestock transportation is heavily regulated and carefully conducted, as seen below:

Campaign Culture

Democracy still has a fairly tenuous grip in Nigeria.

In 2005:

• About 40 percent thought the last elections were not free and fair;
• About 20 percent through they were free and fair with major problems;
• Only 9 percent thought they were free and fair (pg. 3, Brief No.35).

From 2000-01 to 2005:

• Support for democracy decreased from 81 percent to 65 percent.
• Satisfaction with democracy decreased from 84 to 25 percent.
• Belief in civil and political liberties declined from approx. 90 to under 50 percent.
• Those who want to give democracy more time to work decreased from 79 to 55 percent while those supporting change to another form of government increased from 17 to 39 percent.

Campaign culture here is still evolving. It's interesting to see trials of different models of management here -- ad hoc, etc. i.e. If I ask three people to discuss and plan this event without me, will they do it? Would a more hierarchical structure in which each person is requested to report back regularly be more effective?

What's emerging is something very different from anything our team has seen before, and something that they're working to assess and work with each day to meet set goals and objectives in the campaign. A lot of it is culture: punctuality is not particularly important here, and the relationship between employer and employee is complicated, etc. What's driving our guys particularly nuts, and rightly so, is the very different structure surrounding communication and decision-making. There's no campaign manager as we know it in the US, and communication is irregular even without the cell and power outages that can make getting a line to someone difficult.

There were some really positive developments today. The new researcher is really excellent. Very positive today, although a key member of personnel was two and a half days late for a project. (Not uncommon.) And, as always, I'm really enjoying getting to know the folks I'm working with, both US and Nigerian. They're remarkable all around.

Because it amused my mother so much I'll repeat the story of my first introduction in the War Room. G introduced me, and one of the editors immediately asked, "Is that 'Ms.' or "Mrs.'?" His neighbor continued teasingly, "Is she Muslim?" So now we remember them as my first Nigerian suitors.

Driving has been dangerous. C had to talk to our driver after the third time we made a narrow escape. He also has a habit of taking routes the guys, who've been here long enough to know Abuja decently well, are unfamiliar with. Often our seatbelts don't work, and that's when I cling to the door and pray. A woman in our campaign has been in two accidents in the last week, the second of which totaled her car.

Skyped/iChatted tonight with great success, or, at least, more success than G'd led me to expect from Skype in Nigeria. On iChat, my picture was clear; on Skype, his was. But on both audio was very good, unlike on the slower, wireless internet at the office.

The Way to Lunch and then Dinner

That was on the way to lunch. At lunch it was revealed that one of the guys won't eat the chicken because of bird flu, and the other won't touch fish because of the mercury. Naturally, all but totally cooked vegetables are also out of the question. Tofu, perhaps? Diet time.

I learned something else interesting on the way to dinner: there's an established hierarchy to the seats in a regular sedan. When we pulled up beside a car at a "light," the men in the car beside us were staring at me, which led me to ask..."Why?" On top of being a woman, and a white woman, I was in the VIP seat. The back right seat is reserved for the most important person in the car. When a politician or official is traveling, there's an even more distinct order: the front passenger seat is the boyguard's seat, and the back left is for the personal assistant.

Dinner was very sedate. Interestingly enough we drove down Desmond Tutu Drive to Nelson Mandela Street, or some such powerful pairing, to reach our hostess. She is an amazing, fierce, powerfully efficient woman who calmly but energetically manages or sets in motion nearly anything campaign related we could possibly request. She lives in what I understand to be the nicest neighborhood in Abuja. It is beautiful, and her home is lovely, but it is interesting that she has to use a generator for power and buy water to bring to the house for showers and washing -- an expense that leads her to forgo watering the grass occasionally. The alternative is to sink boreholes, private wells, essentially, so she can have consistent access to water.

We ate well -- really well -- and then enjoyed tea out in her gazebo. Finally at 11 pm, we headed back to the hotel, where I sit returning emails and fighting off sleep.

Tomorrow breakfast will be between 7:30 and 8:00 am -- which means, naturally, 8:15 or so. This morning I went down at 7:30 as agreed and found myself alone, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable as I feared to wait by myself. Of course, the Hilton is an exception: Americans, even American women, although the minority, are not uncommon. Dress, too, is much less strict and consistent than in the rest of Abuja. But even in wider Abuja dress is generally less rigid than I'd worried it might be -- I can even wear jeans when we're socializing, which is nice. So, tomorrow I'll likely be waiting for a bit for the guys to get up to breakfast, as C at least is much less a morning person even than me, but it's no issue.

Day One

I posted a batch of pictures from today at my Flickr page and a video from today should also be working shortly in a post to follow...well, shortly.

There was a huge event today honoring the late brother of our candidate at the center in his name, which is also our office building. There were hundreds of people, and the editor of a local paper who was at our office at the time had his watch stolen -- off of his wrist -- making his way up the stairs to our suite. The front of the building showed the wear and tear of the event this evening when we left post-rally:


A torn poster for our candidate:


The office is not un-organized, differently organized from a US political campaign but not badly organized. People know where to go and whom to call to get things done; the trick for our guys will be trying to implement a more consistent structure and protocol for things. There are many 'first and last' meetings which are the first and last time a "regular" meeting -- 9 am each day, for example -- is held, which is amusing in concept but very frustrating in reality.

The exchange rate is about 125:1, at least at our hotel, and so our office expense fund is contained in a "Ghana Must Go" bag -- what the three women of our office jokingly call "Ghana Gucci" -- and looks suspiciously opulent:


Naturally, we are careful not to drink unboiled water, unfiltered coffee, or, for example, place Naira in our mouths. (The boys are a hit with the office staff for just such antics. I don't think I'll go to such extremes, however.)


Later, on the way to lunch, we encountered a fiery obstacle. No one was stopping to help, although the car was the driver's livelihood.


Construction in Nigeria is very interesting. Abuja is a very new city, and many buildings are still under construction and new buildings are popping up all the time. The scaffolding is made of bowed 2 x 4s:

Israel?

For some reason, Google thinks we're in Israel. Too bad I don't know Hebrew.

Welcome to Abuja

The story of Abuja is really interesting -- until about 1976, Lagos, the port city, was the capital of Nigeria. It was decided that changing the capital would reduce regional and tribal bias, so the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) was formed and Abuja was born. Abuja was built up from a small village, and it's still small by comparison to other major cities. Much of the population is comprised of civil servants who leave on weekends, making it somewhat of a ghost town.

Got in around 8:20 pm, passed through immigrations and customs along with my very nice but very confused Portugese seatmate and found our guys waiting for me with a car. Then there was the initially alarming incident in which C and an airport attendant 'chanced' one another. Chancing is when someone sees how far he can push his position. Picture goats ramming each other for primacy. It's almost violent. C lost. The attendant made us drive to a second loop, ten feet away, to load my luggage.

On the drive from the airport, about 40 minutes, the roads were completely empty, and dark, thanks to the failure of a transformer, and we passed the national cathedral, national mosque, national assembly, and the national stadium, which is used very rarely -- maybe yearly.

Dinner was good. We can eat the vegetables and fruit at the hotel, which is super-nice, and have a ready supply of bottled water, so hopefully I'll be able to leave mom's medicines packed.

Skype is up and running. Tested it the other night with K. It works beautifully. Download the software from www.skype.com and call me if I'm on: it's my two last names together without space or symbol.

The PA voice has lost it. She is now really sternly insisting "You are delaying the flight!"

Seven Hours in Amsterdam

I couldn't help laughing every time the pilot made an announcement. He provided a detailed route for us -- “We’ll be going tru Philadelphia and New York up ta Nova Scotia, all Nordern da whole way" -- and told us that, ‘of course,” he’d “prefer that we keep our seatbelts fastened during flight.” When, having slept through dinner, I went on a late-night scavenging expedition, the flight attendant offered orange juice and chocolate, provoking a second round of giggles. His accent was even stronger than the pilot's: “That’s what de’re dere for.”

For some reason the movie selections were Flushed Away, an animated movie with Kate Winslet and Hugh Jackman as creatures flushed into a septic system, and A Good Year, with Russell Crowe. Add to that the John Mayer muzak during deplaning and you have a pretty amusing trans-oceanic experience.

Less funny was the too sociable seat mate who kept wanting to stare at, assist with, and otherwise discuss my sudoku puzzle. I kept hoping that turning away and shielding the page would be a polite hint that I didn't want to chat. Unfortunately she took it as an invitation to ask more questions about the puzzles. I ultimately gave up and put my scarf over my head.

When we finally deplaned, my first sensory input from the Netherlands was the smell of cigarette smoke and, ironically, a glaring "No Smoking" sign in two languages.

It's 8:25 am here, and the flight to Abuja doesn't leave until 2:10 pm. Trying to stay awake. At least this is the same time zone as Nigeria.

The announcements in the airport are cracking me up. When passengers are late, over the PA system a voice announces the passengers' names and politely but firmly says, "you are delaying flight. Please proceed to gate or we will offload your luggage."

International Court

The Nigerian Embassy is tucked away on International Court in far, far NW DC -- that would be, as I found out yesterday, about 2 hours up Connecticut Avenue for those doing the rush-hour dash. It's very simple beside sprawling Malaysia and the sign-happy United Arab Emirates, clean modern lines and glass.

Through iron gates, glass doors, and a metal detector, one ID lighter, I found my way across the black granite squares of the lobby of the embassy to the receptionist, who set me on my way to the visa desk, and so on.

After visiting the embassy, I spent the day doing assorted travel errands (did you know that shoe polish and laptop chargers are at a premium in Abuja?) and catching up research. I found an international cell phone provider and will now be able to make (business) calls while in Abuja for a reasonable 2.85/min.

Finally at 9 pm, my last Washington-based tasks done, I began the drive home to Durham. Thanks to unleaded gas, vanilla sugar wafers, and Diet Coke, Thelma, my car, and I made it home safely by 1 am.

Today my father and I ran a few errands looking for reasonable long-sleeved apparel (Fun idea: go shopping for purdah friendly clothing with your father -- he'll definitely approve.) We also got him a headset so my parents can Skype me while I'm away to calm their paternal instincts.

My father: "This works how?"
Me: "You plug it into the computer."
My father: "The computer?"
Me: "Yep. Just plug it in, like headphones and a microphone."
My father: "But what do you install?"
Me: "Plug it in. I'll set it up. You just open Skype."
My father: "Skype?"

I'm now just packing and getting ready to leave on Saturday. Will need one suitcase for clothes and work and a second for the small but potent pharmacy my mother has assembled for me. For tomorrow: schedule a shuttle to the airport, get emergency medical evacuation insurance, and make sure I have everything the guys over there need.

Dulles to Amsterdam to Abuja

My arms are throbbing. Each bicep boasts a pair of bandages. Today I got vaccinated for yellow fever, meningitis, polio, and hepatitis A. My poor arms are holding up surprisingly well so far. We'll see what they have to say in the morning when I want them to lift my suitcase.

I'll be leaving Washington, DC, Saturday evening, arriving in Amsterdam early on Sunday and from there flying to Abuja, Nigeria, where I'll meet up with our guys on the ground, C and G.

Tomorrow, a visa.