Nigeria for beginners #007…The driver’s side
My husband is a fairly avant-garde Nigerian man. He married a non-Nigerian. Lots of Nigerians marry non-Nigerians but Nigerian parents usually prefer that they don’t. Parents here can get very particular about tribe, family seat of origin, class, education and whatnot and they simply can’t properly investigate such matters if both parties aren’t Nigerian. Once they have happily identified you as Nigerian, they then get to disqualify you on some other nitpicking criteria like you don’t live in VI, Ikoyi or Lekki 1.
Even before my husband married a non Nigerian, he went to Vassar, which is a feminist liberal arts college in the US. This was quite metrosexual before metrosexual was a term. The sterotypically Nigerian aspiration is to go to a university known for maths or sciences so you can eventually become a banker or doctor. He hung out with some pot smoking lesbians for four years and got into Buddhism. (He will deny all of this.) He did become a banker but quit like a year after we got married. So the good news is we get to have breakfast and dinner together, the bad news is I have a lot of costume jewellery. Having a husband who went to Vasser is pretty cool. He reads a hell of a lot and actually knows more about my rights as a woman than I do. He even offered to take my name when we got married. I declined. I was quite looking forward to getting rid of my ‘slave name’ — although actually I’ve had to keep it — but more on that later.
But when we got married and moved to Nigeria things changed. First of all, my father in law said I shouldn’t ask my husband questions about his business. It was none of my business. Then my husband said I needed to not contradict him in public and or expect any help with the children in public or sit on his side of the car, that it didn’t look right and could lower his standing and even affect his earning potential.
That’s when I woke up to the fact that women here have a different status to men.
It’s not something I expected because before moving here, my Nigerian female friends from university were mostly go-getting, no-nonsense women who didn’t play the backseat in their relationships. In Nigeria too my first job was for a female boss and as Editor I was in charge of men too and didn’t have any problems. The women I’ve met here have overwhelmingly inspired me to be more go-getting, no-nonsense and assertive. It’s normal here for a woman to have multiple businesses, be supporting a small village somewhere and have three degrees.
But as with most things, scratch the surface or as I’m often told shine your eyes and it’s a different story.
Now the optimum place to sit in the car when you have a driver is behind the passenger seat, which is usually empty. [Don’t narrow your eyes, it’s normal to have drivers in Lagos]. This is just common sense as I’ve never yet met a driver who doesn’t suffer from the odd unexpected bout of flatulence. But it’s also the place where the person with the highest status sits. If the wife were to sit there, people would assume she is the oga (boss), not her husband and then I imagine all hell would break loose along the lines of Nicholas Cage’s The Wicker Man and be just as intentionally funny.
Since being made aware of all this, I have noticed some friends being very pointed about occupying the boss seat or very pointed about giving it up. Not only is it a lift but also a gift of their status for the duration too. I’m waiting for people to comment saying this is some bullsh3t and that I’ve made it all up but there are lots of other ways women are given lower status here too. Being told to sit on the driver’s side is the least of those issues. What goes on behind closed doors is a lot less laughable, like the fact that the justice system provides unreliable protection for women, the social pressure on women to kow-tow to men is immense and child marriage is still legal. It’s still legal in the US too and the UK where I grew up is hardly gender equal, I’m just making the point that a woman’s existence here is precarious and very dependent on those men around her — hence why I kept my name for social media and work. I need something which is just mine and not dependent on someone else around me. and hence why I just sit behind the driver now with a bottle of perfume.
