Part 2.The Journey in.

Life was great at the hotel. We were waited on hand and foot. I suppose we were sheltered away from the realities of Nigerian life. We had the run of the hotel and got up to total mischief, knocking on people's doors and running away to hide, ordering room service to empty rooms having swiped the keys when the cleaners were not looking. We quickly got into the weekly routine of a bountiful breakfast, followed by school and an afternoon swim in the pool, followed by plans to raid the local paper and sweet shop. I always used my younger brother as a decoy as I swiped all the Bazookas and Tom Toms I could get a hold of.

Saturdays became the least favourite day as they were invariably spent at my Aunty's house on Glover road in Ikoyi between the local hairdresser's sweaty thighs for hours as she plaited different concoctions and designs into my hair. This was naturally followed by a huge headache. I also had to continue to evade my aunt who was always threatening to pierce my ears when I was not looking. And as usual my light fingered cousins would have swiped my ill gotten gains of Bazookas and Tom Toms out of my canvass bag before my hair was completed whilst the neighbour's kids chorused - Oyinbo pepper, if eeate pepper, you go yellow mo mo every time I stepped out on to the porch.

My Sundays however were much more peaceful. The day was spent at Bar Beach, the waves lapping round my legs, eating hot oranges peeled into beautiful patterns.I was mesmerised by the way the orange sellers would literally skin the orange in a lovely motion with a sharp knife whilst simultaneously holding a conversation. My mother, meanwhile would be roasting herself into pink perfection whilst constantly being pestered by the passing bead and art sellers and every once in a while being chatted up by the local lotharios thinking they were in with a good chance with the lovely oyinbo lady. My father, needless to say, did not do beaches. His Sundays were spent visiting family as he had been away for so long and needed to catch up. He never did stop catching up though!

The rainy season came and we finally moved to a three bed flat in Suru-Lere. I finally had my own room, well not quite, as I had to share it with my brother. My mother quickly turned the flat into her "English cottage" but even she could not keep away some of the harsh realities of living in Lagos. She was not prepared for the onslaught of extended family and friends who never call or write but just show up and take up permanent residence. Our home heaved under the weight of bodies that passed through, coming to gawk at the onyochas (white people) that my father had brought home. Constant demands for food and drink were met and things were never quiet. How I longed for the soft, cool, peaceful room at Ikoyi Hotel.

It was not too long after moving in that we had our first experience of "NEPA taking light". My mother, unprepared for this anomaly, opened up unmeshed windows, bereft of netting which the landlord had knowingly failed to provide. In came the mosquitoes. She was totally unprepared having come out to Nigeria, a naive 26 year old girl, on a wing and a prayer and with love in her heart for my father. Needless to say we were bitten senseless in the hour she left them open. My father returning home soon after saved us from permanent damage bringing Shelltox, candles and mosquito nets for the beds. I always felt like a Princess crawling under them at night. They hung all beautiful and white around me casting the room in a soft misty light and with the sounds of crickets in my ears I would fall into a deep seamless sleep.

I woke one rainy day to the screams of my mother. There was excrement flowing out of the toilet through the hall and into the living room of her Suru- Lere English cottage.......