Threads

I've now also developed a very mild case of envy for Akin's views over old Amsterdam. I wonder Akin - do you have a lovely Dutch bicycle too? My all-time favourite design object is the classic sit-up-and-beg Dutch bicycle - the lovely curving frame and the way it makes the rider sit up straight and float around like a swan. Hmmmm - to live in Amsterdam, surrounded by bicycles and the ghost of Descartes..

Meanwhile, back in Abuja, yet another okada driver drove into a car I was in (3rd time this has happened). We were turning right into the Finance Ministry where I work when BAM! A Nanfang bike went flying past us on the right as did its rider, decapitating our wing mirror in the process. He ended up bruising his legs quite badly but could easily have died if his head had hit something hard. He hadn't noticed we were indicating and was hoping to overtake us on the right. The gate keepers wanted to know if we were going to demand compensation for the mirror. It shocked me to think that anyone would ask an injured poor okada driver to cough up (we taped it back on). Okada driving provides an employment opportunity, but the work needs to be more formalised: they must be forced to wear a helmet on pain of penalty (most don't) and to take a rigorous driving test. In Lagos I've seen several dead okada (one that rode straight into an upturned car on the Marina flyover). Instead, State governors chunter futilely on about banning them every six months or so.

A striking piece of theatre which I wish I could find a way of filming are some of the traffic conductors at some of the major junctions in town. While some do their job with a tired lackadaisical air (I'd be the same with such a monotonous monoxidous job), there are others who seem to think they're on stage with a heavy spotlight beaming down on them. The dramatic ways in which they make their gestures, taking full advantage of the opportunities for digital flourishes afforded by wearing pristine white gloves is quite something to behold. Definitely there are some frustrated actors out there on Abuja's roads who could show RMD a thing or two.. They seem to be consumed with passion for the moment - playing the role to its utmost by condensing their identity into it. It reminds me of Sartre's comments on the Rive Gauche waiter he observes (probably while smoking a Gitanes) in L'Etre et le Neant as he pranced around full of self-importance- how we often try to construct an authentic identity out of inauthentic role-playing. I remember doing exactly the same thing washing industrial-size kitchenware for weeks on end in Israel... Maybe I'll try and sneak at least a photograph one of these days.