Okada in Abuja

In Abuja, the Bikemen speak no English. If you don't speak Hausa, you would have to settle for sign language and a painstaking process of expert gesturing.

You're supposed to go somewhere you've never gone to before, and you're supposed to trust a bike man to know the address. You stop a bike, a typical Hausa bike man. Black as coal with a tint of dirty brown on his face and on his hair.

'Where?' He would ask in a thick, heavy Hausa accent. So thick that you could swear he had spoken Hausa. Do not be lured into speaking English with him, as 'where' is the only English word he speaks. It had in fact taken him two years and eleven months to learn that word.

'Day by day primary school, opposite White Swan Hotel'. You would say, thinking he has an inkling of what you're saying.

He would look up at you with his nose, his face contorting into astonishment, as if wondering why a fine person like you is so illiterate that you can't give your address in Hausa.

In a futile attempt to further describe your destination with more English sentences, he would resign to the differences between you and simply say 'bah', shaking his head sadly at the misfortune of your Hausa illiteracy, and then he would zoom off.

Be glad, for he was kind.

Others would look at you and then reply you saying 'dhdhbsjsksjsbdhwiwhs rjrhejsksj', in Hausa, nodding in affirmation to your descriptions, giving you a clear impression that they know where you are going. 40 minutes and many roads later, after going round and round, he would finally drop you off at some location and you would pay him some very cheap fare ( as compared to the distance he had taken you). After he's clearly out of sight you would ask someone where you are.

'Nasarrawa', they would tell you.