Arik Air & I

While I have my reservations for a lot of things the Yoruba culture stands for, I have nothing but unreserved admiration for its adages. Maybe it is the charmingly euphemistic manner with which these adages deliver clear and weighty messages.  A popular one is 'Iku yato si orun' which means there is a clear difference between sleep and death.

I was reminded of this adage as I disembarked from the Virgin Atlantic aircraft I flew in yesterday from Lagos. My shameless phobia for air travel is no longer news but yesterday, I had an epiphany. After yesterday's flight, I am undoubtedly convinced that the only difference between Arik Air and the BRT bus that plies Apapa-Oshodi Expressway is the colour and shape of the 'vehicles' in question. Add a tail and a wing on either side of a red BRT bus and you have Arik!I'm exaggerating abi?

Many of my friends who fly frequently between Lagos and London always wondered why I patronized Arik so faithfully. I was not even sure myself. I just knew my mother liked them so I presumed they had cheap fares but as I would find out later, they had the best baggage allowance at 30kilos per bag. Before 2013, the last time I took a long-haul flight was in 2004 and somehow I seem not to have any recollection of those experiences. So, you see Arik became the gold standard of my flying adult life. I probably still haven't fully recovered from the trauma I suffered from flying in Arik planes in the last year or so. 

My decision to fly differently this time was one based on self-advice and sober reflection. As I flew into Lagos in January, with my heart in my mouth as usual for 6hours, I did some soul searching and asked myself some cogent questions. Knowing what I did about Nigeria and Nigerians, would I entrust them with my money? No! Would I entrust them with my health? No! Would I entrust them with anything valuable? No! So why then was I repeatedly entrusting them with my life, which was supposedly the most precious thing I had at the time? Immediately, I made a resolution never to fly Arik again. I had pushed my luck and tested fate long enough. Even if it meant flying to Canberra in Australia first before connecting to London, Arik would no longer feature in my life's story. I just don't trust my countrymen. Especially in these days of Naira free-fall against the Dollar. You can't put it past Nigerians to resort to adulterated aviation fuel to cut costs. That's what a tiny voice in my mind keeps whispering to me anyway. 

I had never been on a Virgin flight before yesterday and the experience blew my mind. First the cabin crew smiled and looked like they truly enjoyed their job. It was a far cry from my regular, often frustrated looking Arik crew who always seemed like they were perennially on their periods. On one of such flights in October, a cabin attendant asked me to pull up the blind and I asked why since there seemed to be too much sunlight coming in. To my amazement, his response was 'the window must be up so if the wing is on fire you will be able to alert us'. Information Management 101. What better way to calm the frayed nerves of a very anxious passenger. I was expecting a simple 'Sir, it's just standard procedure during take-off and landing'. Of course, my eyes didn't leave the wing of that plane till we were safely on the ground.

The last time I ate rice on a plane, the outcome was not so pleasant. Arik had taught me a salient lesson. At 35,000 feet with dodgy lavatories, bread should be the meal of choice. Yesterday, I ate rice. I even added salad and yogurt to the mix and my bowel has remained normoactive. The in-flight entertainment screen worked (unlike some occasions on Arik's brand new planes) and I ended up watching three movies before we touched down. I almost did not even remember I was flying if not for occasional dips planes have in the air. There always seemed to be something to nibble on aboard the flight. Chocolate, sandwiches, candy...even plantain chips! It seemed like they were bent on belittling Arik by every standard known to mankind. Understandably, I was stuffed when the English pilot, who sounded so casual and playful, announced our descent into our destination. 

Since we typically ran Nigerian Airways, Air Nigeria and Nigerian Eagle aground, Arik is a befitting national carrier. It represents all we stand for and the lousiness that should now be engraved in our coat of arms. The 'anyhowness' that Nigeria is now renowned for has understandably infected Arik and they appear to be loving it. Fortunately, till date, they have had a clean safety record which is commendable. Unfortunately, I still don't trust them! 

As if Arik read my mind, the flight to Lagos suddenly became dramatic as we approached Lagos. An hour after the pilot announced that we were commencing our final descent into Lagos we were still in the air. At that point, my internal alarms went off. What on Earth was happening? Usually, it took 30minutes after that announcement to land but here we were going at top speed with no sight of the ground from my window. After another half hour, the pilot announced that he could not see the runway at MMIA due to the fog and that he would circle and try once more. If that failed, he said he would divert the flight to Abuja and wait till the sky in Lagos was suitable for landing. At that point, I knew for sure I was going to be making an impromptu trip to Abuja. Another hour in the air in an Arik aircraft. Damn! As if an extra five minutes was not unbearable enough. So we headed to Abuja and to my utmost surprise we were advised to remain in our seats till they instructed otherwise. My dear people of God, na so siddon start. An hour soon became six and we were still on the tarmac of the Nnamdi Azikwe International Airport, Abuja. Passengers understandably became agitated due to the paucity of information from the cabin crew and the hunger didn't help. Many had not had anything decent to eat since the night before. Many, like me, tactfully dodged Arik's sorry excuse for Jollof Rice so blood sugar was waning. One passenger walked to the bar on board and grabbed a pack of orange juice, he was obviously frustrated. Again, to my bewilderment, the Arik cabin attendant ran after him and tried to physically snatch the orange juice from the passenger's hands and a small scuffle ensued. It was not even pure natural orange juice! Made from concentrates and was Chivita!!! I was certain it couldn't cost more than 300naira per pack. I was thoroughly ashamed!

When that flight eventually landed in Lagos a few minutes before 1p.m in the afternoon, after sitting since 9:30pm the previous night, I had no doubt in my mind whatsoever that it would take something cosmic for me to board another international Arik flight. I had paid my dues. So, don't blame me if it sounds like I have given Virgin Atlantic too much credit. It is only when you have swam in an ocean that you realize a swimming pool shouldn't drown anybody. 

May we not chew kpomo when our mates are eating meat. There's a popular song by King Sunny Ade. 'Ma je kin ba won de odo lai pon omi' (May I not follow them to the river and not fetch water). That is my sincere prayer for anyone who is reading this. Never again!

Arik isn't an airline. Leave kpomo...chop meat!