Feb 7 - The Blowfish Hotel - Lagos

Blowfish expand like globes. They are cute water versions of porcupines. Nevertheless, I would have never expected to stay at a hotel with this name. I did in Lagos. Everyone locally calls it the Blue Fish, it sounds more pristine and inviting. I agree. I have never scratched the surface of a blowfish but I imagine surprises. That’s what I have found at this relatively small boutique hotel in the heart of Victoria Island. It is so secluded that it has no sign on the door (apparently you pay a lot of money for such signs in Nigeria); so one enters the place like a secret guest through the garage front door.

Bright pink external walls, the Blowfish invites you with its furniture, its many bellmen, porters and other uniformed staff. Wow, it seems like it is going to be a good stay! Oh, wait a minute… my newly assigned tiny room hasn’t been cleaned, it looks like somebody just got up… and the toilet, oh no… what happened? Not a nice welcoming ceremony. Ok, after a few minutes, the baby-looking manager with an Arab accent comes to my rescue. He apologizes a million times and ‘upgrades’ me to a corner room where I can actually walk a bit. I like the windows facing the street and I settle down for one night. The internet is not working… but it must be down for now, maybe tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes. I cannot even see the wireless network on the list of available ones. I’ll have to live for 4 days without access to my inbox. My consolation, phones and blackberries work just fine.

I find this hotel a resemblance of the two extreme realities of our world. On one hand a very wealthy elite who “enjoys” the benefits of good food, fine shelter, and a social life. On the other, the vast majority a nation (and many nations), working hard to please that elite, trying to make ends meet (sometimes at whatever cost).

The Blowfish administration is trying to fill the gap between those ends. Good luck! And here we are, westerners, asking for lotion in the bathroom, clean water, reliable internet… when I complain about the service I am left with this bitter sense of guilt inside… How can I dare to ask for more?

The same combo goes for luxury cars driving on dirt roads and the poorest people talking on cell phones. We forget, I forget, how this is, because in Canada things seem much different. Although, we can always scratch the surface, and dig a little deeper to find out that the poor will always be there and be more than we imaines (ask the organizers of the Vancouver Olympics). We are sitting on a very privileged chair in a small dining room. Although… chairs can always tumble and fall…

I wrote this in the silence of my secluded fortress:
“In the open night, abandoned at their mercy and with no tail to rid them of mosquitoes, two men lay down on a straw mat. Instead, they scratch their legs with their toe nails. Their dusty sandals as pillows. The heavens as the infinite end they could sink into. They try to sleep. They toss around while the palm trees hardly move. The only street light in their faces is a reminder of the cement floor on which they try to rest. They are lying on the backyard of a big house besides a shiny Land Rover. The humid air weighing on their shirtless bodies. They evaporate in sweat. Rub their chests with naked hands. Once in a while, get up to pray… on the same mat. They kneel and stand, kneel and stand with silent prayers. They also play with the keypad on their cell phones. They call people and throw laughs around in retaliation. They seem restless. They go out onto the road to shake hands with other pals. They piss on the walls. I see them through the window of my air conditioned room on the third floor. I wonder when they are going to start the next revolution. And I see motorcycles stop. People chat. Passing cars give me snapshots of life with their beam lights. I see hollow roads, and moving shadows that bounce around. I hear ghosts of the past; I see spirits of the present. And they talk with loud enthusiasm and even smoke despite the pressing heat. But the sounds of engines swallow any singing”.

Requirement of the day: reliable internet and laundry.
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