Our daily focus over the past months had been to create and submit a proposal to the First Presidency to fund Gathering Places. So much energy had gone into the proposal and into implementation and analysis of the pilot, that we could see we were losing touch with our Nigerian couples. We felt that the best way to reconnect would be through a face-to-face visit. We divided the eight Nigerian couples in half and with the Platts taking four and our taking four, we set out for Nigeria with all of the associated travel and safety concerns.
Dale and I traveled from Accra to Lagos International Airport on November 11, landing at 10:30 pm (two hours late), confusing our driver since the cell number we had for him was incorrect. A few security mishaps at the Lagos airport caused us to arrive at the Sheraton Hotel at midnight, where Church Travel had failed to secure us a room. (After over 45 minutes the hotel clerk found us a small room.) We woke at 4:00 am in anticipation of meeting our Lagos driver who agreed to transport us to the domestic airport for our 6:50 am flight to Port Harcourt. The driver, caught in early (early) morning traffic, called a substitute who wasn’t familiar with the roads or the airport. After several wrong turns and security stops, we arrived at the oldest and craziest airport ever!! The people were dressed in traditional Nigerian attire yelling at one another in unfamiliar languages, everyone pushing and shoving, some stepping/riding on the luggage conveyor belts. Dale looked around and wondered if goats would soon come running by! We lined up at the gate like good, orderly Americans. Soon to discovered we were the only obedient passengers, some were just walking on the plane, and no employees seemed to care. This was our introduction to what it meant to leave civilized Lagos and head into the country’s interior.
By the time we arrived in Port Harcourt an hour later, our heads were spinning. Everything about the previous evening and this morning played like a series of bad scenes from a movie. (Oh, and our phones didn’t work, so we couldn’t have called for help.) This was our second trip to Nigeria, but the first time traveling unaccompanied through an airport. What a welcome sight to finally walk out of the airport and see a man who was quite obviously our Church provided driver! Hooray, he was there on time to save us from the chaos of the last 12 hours. I thanked him and thanked him. His smile was so comforting.
The plan was to meet our security guard at the Port Harcourt Mission Home, then drive two hours to Uyo to meet the Wokes and Ntuks for our first training meeting. For safety purposes we had to return to Port Harcourt while the sun was still up. Well, the security guard got caught in traffic, had to leave his car, and walk over two hours to meet us. The comedy of errors continued once the four of us were in the “Missionary” SUV driving to Uyo on a highway known for bandits. We learned that bandits could extort money and kidnap travelers. During one long stretch there was police stop after police stop unusually close together. Our driver was getting very agitated with the situation, so at one stop he chose not to slow down. A “policeman” with the AK47 jumped at the car yelling, the driver continued on, the security guard (who was sitting in the passenger’s seat) aggressively told the driver to stop, the driver said the “policeman” was a bandit so he wouldn’t. At the same moment, the bandit/policeman leaped in front of our SUV, leaving no option for the driver but to slow down. A lively exchange began between the “police,” who yelled that he was being disrespected while waving the AK47, and our driver who was yelling, “You are a fake!” The security guard focused on trying to calm our driver, reminding him that Dale and I were in the back seat. We sat there, our heads swiveling from the security guard to the driver, to the fake “policeman,” comforted with the knowledge that being tied to a tree for days was probably our worst fate.
Cool heads eventually prevailed, and we drove on. Nigeria has the strongest economy in West Africa, but there are many obstacles such as efficiently getting from one location to the next. We have traveled on bumpy roads plagued with deep potholes, roads that abruptly transition from broken asphalt to dirt, and the ever present broken down semi-truck blocking which ever lane it was in when it stopped moving, but nothing matching the road from Port Harcourt to Uyo. Parts were paved, parts were foot paths through small villages. It was so good to arrive in the small established city of Uyo where we met in an established church owned building.
Our meeting with the Woke’s and Ntuk’s was lovely, as was our second meeting in Port Harcourt on Sunday, November 13 with the Imoh’s and Nnadi’s. The hotel, in contrast to the road to Uyo, was a lovely resort with beautifully manicured grounds. This is a land of extremes.
Some comments from the couples:
We are so happy having Elder and Sister Munk visit. Their visit surely shall strengthen our resolve to continue doing great things.
We are most grateful for your teachings, encouragements, examples and confidence in us, we are particular grateful for your love for our little girl, we learnt so much from you and. The Lord’s work brings blessings immeasurable, and you have shown us the path to spread and reap it. We pray for strength, health and more inspiration for you and your family and all missionaries too. Thank you so much. It was wonderful having you around.
We are delighted for your instructions, love, and encouragement. We are more enlightened now, but the memories will continue to be in our minds. Thank you so much and safe journey.
After our trainings, we flew back to Lagos where we were to meet a driver to take us to the international terminal. We got off the plane, collected our luggage, then exited the terminal. The sun was bright and hot. The crowds were thick. Our phones did not work. There was no driver. We had no option but to stand there. After a lengthy period of time a man came up to us and identified himself as a member of the church. He graciously offered his help and allowed us to use his phone to call our driver who took us to the international terminal. Between our white skin and our black badges, we stand out in a crowd. We are grateful for the positive reputation of the church and that we have the privilege to serve the Savior.
Paper work and procedures are different for entering and exiting each country. Who knows what to do and what form to complete? In the Lagos international terminal, we were trying to figure this out when an airline employee came up to us and said, “I remember you. Let me help you. Come with me.” What?? Then I remembered our first trip a year earlier. Yes, a kind lady helped us fill out forms and get on our flight. There she was again! We thanked her, took her picture, and thanked her again and again. There are Angels.
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