Where's an Uber when you need one?

 

It is after 6pm, the sun is going down, the bugs are biting, and we are waiting for a driver to come and pick us up.  Since moving to Abuja, and after being released from quarantine, Jon and I rely on Uber drivers to take us out and about. There are other transportation options available, but the Uber app is both convenient and familiar. We are able to connect with a driver, give both our location and destination, and make payments, all electronically. This bypasses the problem of using cash and verbally explaining where we want to go.  The only problem is... there just aren't that many drivers, and during peak hours, we find ourselves waiting quite a while for a ride home.

We could go another route: buy a car or hire a driver.  Other teachers find either quite affordable. However, Jon and I tolerate the Ubers, and here is why.  In the 20 to 30 minutes that we wait for a driver, we watch a whole new world go by! Every time we go out, that wait time turns me into an observer and opens my eyes to what it means to live in Abuja.

Night had already fallen while we waited outside the Bush Bar, unable to distinguish which, of the oncoming headlights, was the car coming for us.  A car slowed down and turned off the main highway. Bad idea! The car fell into one of the deep ruts left by the last rain.  If this was our Uber, then we would need to pull them out first. The men who sit by every entrance, some sort of security, came to the rescue. There is no lack of people on the side of the road.  They are waiting for rides, selling products, and even doing their washing.

Our wait outside the supermarket 4U can be chaotic. Everyone is trying to sell us something.  The ladies carry their avocados and bananas expertly on their heads, while the oranges and tangerines seem to be for only men to sell.  We hear, "Tangerines,.. like honey!"  I noticed they are able to keep the pile in place on the trays by using scotch tape.

The Uber is stuck in traffic, so we wait on the side of the road, except there is no side of the road.  If there is a sidewalk, then that space is full of vendors and parked cars. Some times the police show up, to eat or direct traffic.  They look scary with their machine guns, but I do not feel a sense of alarm.  Everywhere is heavily protected. 

On another hot day, we waited outside the farmer's market with our produce for what seemed to be the only available driver on a Sunday. I wanted to be away from the flies and the dried fish. We were followed across the road by a cripple on wheels, and several women selling buckets of something I didn't recognize.  Although there was a large mosque nearby, prayers were taking place at the edge of the market between the onions spread out to dry.  I noticed men washing themselves by pouring water from small tea kettles. An armed guard approached us, wanting to know what we were up to. Fortunately our Uber arrived the same time and the policeman kindly directed traffic to allow us to get to our ride and on our way.

Jon's haircut put us out on the curb, waiting for a ride home, about 6:00pm.  We are realizing that this is a bad time for getting an Uber and, depending on your location, you might just be out of luck.  If all we wanted was a ride, any ride, then we were spoiled for choice.  Every car that passed honked and offered to drive us; and on the corner just opposite was a tuk-tuk stand (known as 'keke' here). As we were pondering the possibility of taking one of these, a man walked by with a sewing machine on his head. Another came by, this time signally with his scissors that he was open for business.  Then another man dropped off a pair of polished shoes to one of the guards at the gate.  He carried his cobbler tools in a box.  Just down the street another man had set up shop and was fixing shoes.  There was a watermelon stand next to the tuk-tuks and other vendors had paused for a rest from carting around their boxes of dates and nuts. An informal barbecue was roasting meat: perhaps the drivers evening meal? Whereas there was plenty of business potential here, I think most of the men had called it a day and were on their way home.  And so were we, Mustafa showed up in a air-conditioned car, and saved us from having to take another form of transport that may or may not have made it to our destination.