Offshore Africa stories

Dave handed out the 15 dollars from his special small change pocket, nobody counted money in front off anyone here in Africa and a lot of other places, as this usually resulted in the price matching exactly what you had been stupid enough to show.

The doctor reached into the desk drawer, and pulled out a truly horrific large rusty discoloured needle and syringe which must have been years old, still with old blood in it.
She looked Dave straight in the eyes, smiling: “100 dollars, gets you a new needle, unpacked and opened in front of you, otherwise, for your 15 dollars you get DIS”. She made a jabbing motion that wouldn’t be out of place in a shower scene from a certain movie set in an old USA Motel!

The nurse was smiling, a beautiful smile that showed more teeth than could reasonably be assumed possible for the size of her mouth. The “Show” was about to start…
Dave bent down and picked up a plastic packet from his bag, containing 3 brand new sealed blood test needle kits, competing with syringes, this wasn’t his “first rodeo”!

“AH, you are a man prepared, well, I LIKE THAT!“

Dave never ceased to be amazed how the people from this continent constantly surprised him, just when you thought things might get ugly, smiles break out, and light enters the situation, and things take a turn for the better.
The blood test was of course spurious, as there was no real testing procedure, it was just a nod to the politicians sound bite campaigning, showing they were preventing AIDS entering the country.

Unfortunately the majority came in through the borders, and it was completely out of control, with local Witch Doctors, and healers coming up with “Eating Albino Babies” and far worse, as cures for AIDS.

He gave them each 5 dollars as he left with his “Clean Bill of health” for which they really were grateful, as they also were not getting paid on time, plus he thought, you never know, for 10 dollars just keep everything pleasant, they might be here next time?

“God! “Next Time?!”, that sent a shudder down his spine. “God, don’t let this become a regular thing!”, he thought.

Now, to security…

“Security”. It conjures up many different feelings and values, but to well traveled Oil personnel it usually means one thing, “Trouble”, with a whole lot of frustration, as you are usually powerless to stop them basically robbing you and abusing you mentally at the very least.

“Good evening, SIR, Bag Sir, you are traveling light?”

“Yes, just the one bag, I don’t need much, I am here for work!”

“Working? Where about?”

He was angling for more information, sizing up “The Business opportunity“.
Dave had vowed he was not going to be ripped off more than he absolutely needed to be and as it was a well lit open busy place, he decided to stand his ground this time, you did eventually tire of the whole circus.

“Yes, construction here in Lagos, for the Govt!”