(A)live from Bogotá

Monday, August 20, 2007

I Hate Africa Today

What follows is an e-mail I wrote while I was in a very bad mood. Be warned, it is very whiny.

i
'm near the airport. not at the airport, near it, because can't get into the airport until 3 am, that's when people from my airline, Quatar Airways, start work again. I've been here since 3PM, when i was actually in the airport, trying to get on my 5pm flight to Doha. Unfortunately for me, the computer was down. I had an e-ticket. If you've ever been to an airport or are at least familiar with the notion of flying, you know what an e-ticket is. otherwise you can probably guess. it's a ticket that is electronic. e-ticket. it means no paper. when you need paper, it's called a ticket. no e.

I had an e-ticket, so I wasn't worried when my bag containing a paper itinerary was stolen. I printed the exact piece of paper again. no big deal, e-ticket. that was the fucking point.

unfortunately, here at Jomo Kenyata International Airport, the largest airport on this continent which God has most certainly forsaken today, the computer is down. You might expect there is more than one computer, and in fact i saw many. But instead of solve the problem of the computer, the airline printed a list of names that were allowed on the flight, everyone else was told go to home. Within four minutes of being at the airport decisively told that I would not be leaving. I was not told when I would be leaving, nor did anyone seem to believe me that something was wrong in my name was not of the microsoft word document that had been printed. They rather seemed quite glad that my problem was easy to solve: no searching on a computer, not arguing. They had a list. I wasn't on it. It was all very simple, so why was I
upset?

I said, you don't understand it's an e-ticket. I speak to a manager who is busy tearing pieces of paper at right angles and gluing them to other pieces of paper. Not a particularly reassuring task.. I explain my situation, Mark listens, he asks for my passport, and then looks at the list. He says I'm not on the flight. The only ONLY ONLY way he had to see if anyone could get on that flight was a list of names printed in Microsoft Word. I wasn't on it. that was decisive. No computer, nothing.

I thought he was sort of a prick, but i realize his favor is probably sort of critical to getting out of Nairobi. I ask him when the computer will work. He shrugs. I ask him if he can call someone. He says the office in Nairobi is closed today.

I asked when I could get to Doha, he said he didn't know, and that I needed a ticket. He said i couldn't prove I had a ticket, which would require my proving that I was on a list i'm not on. I asked him where the names on the list came from, he said he didn't know, and that I needed a ticket.I reminded him of the e-ticket. He said it was still a ticket, and I should know that. I feel a bit condescending, and ask him what the term 'e-ticket' means to him.

He gets sort of angry and asks the paper part had gone. I said it was stolen. He has the audacity to ask for a police report. had the patience not to punch him in the face. Of course I didn't have a police report! I was in Africa.Because I was really very angry, I told him that police in Africa are good for fuck all, and that there was no reason to file a police report. HE says without the police report he shouldn't believe me. HE says I am probably just making this all up
and that I haven't bought at ticket at all!! I told him to wait there and I would come back with a police report in ten minutes from Nairobi. He admitted that the police report didn't matter.

I asked, again, what to do. now he says I should go to town (Nairobi). I asked him if the office in town was open on a Sunday, as I thought he said it was closed and that's why he wouldn't call. he said i was right.. I asked why he told me to go to town, he said the office would open tomorrow. I reminded him that the flight leaves in an hour. .

I asked if the telephone worked, and if maybe someone else in Quatar Airways also had a telephone that worked in Doha or Cairo or New York or someplace where someone might even have a working computer. he said the phone worked. I told him to call, he said that wasn't good
enough because it's not usually done. Then he said it was expensive. I told him my airfare was also pretty expensive.

I told him i thought it should be done, and he asked why I was so insistent. I told him i didn't care to go spend another fucking day in Nairobi. He told me I was "Making excuses." I asked him if he thought I came to the airport without a ticket and thought making up a story would be a good way to get out of Africa; if I had spent a thousand dollars to come to Africa and not really had a plan to leave. He said he thought I was lying to him. That's when I told him to fuck off. My demonstration of maturity proved unfortunate, because he left
the room.

By now it was 4:30. I've been arguing with him for an hour and a half, and he still won't pick up a phone to call someone else in his GLOBAL AIRLINE. I sit in his office, fuming. I go to the public phone to call my travel agent in San Francisco. The phone doesn't work. the internet doesn't work. I'm at the larget airport in Africa, after all. I actually wanted to fight Mark right then.

It's now 5:01, my flight is the only flight in all of Nairobi that has left on time. I walk around the airport, I find mark. I decide that I could probably beat him up, but that it would not end in my getting on a flight soon. With very little bearings left, I keep my eye on the prize: leaving. After shouting for five minutes in which i said somethings I would later regret ('people like you are why i hate this fucking city, you are not doing anything helpful' and 'do your job and pick up the phone') we go to the office. I don't feel very mature anymore. He takes me to an office where five bored bureaucrats are playing with scissors and glue and ticket stubs. We are going to use
the phone, i think.

After telling me that the call was expensive, and me telling him that my ticket was expensive, he calls Doha. Immediately, they tell him i have a ticket. He looks kind of disappointed, but tells he that I do have a ticket. I tell him i already fucking know that. then they tell him that he should put me on the next flight out, he tells me this, I ask when it is, he says it's on TUESDAY. it's SUNDAY. I tell him that wont work. he tells me the flight which leaves at 4am is full.
I ask mark for the phone. While he is thinking about giving me the phone, I grab it. I talk to a nice woman in Doha. And once, hers is the most helpful voice in Africa. five minutes later I had a first class flight to Bangkok. It was so easy it was frustrating. my flight had left 30 minutes earlier. I had 11 hours of waiting in a parking lot ahead of me.

My flight leaves at 6 am. it's now 9 pm. It's not worth the 40 dollars to go do nothing in Nairobi. I've been drinking whiskey and cursing Africa with a UN worker at the bar down the street for the last two hours. I can't get in to the airport until 2 AM. I am going to spend the rest of the night drinking, since it's costing a whole ten shillings a minute to use the internet.

In the taxi to the airport, I had been sort of sad to leave Africa but now I can't wait. Something happens when you are traveling where you blame entire nations or continents for problems caused by a few people. I don't think Mark was the only reason i'm not sitting on an
airplane right now, after all, nothing else in the airport worked. But it's probably not all of Africa's fault. It would have been stupid not to expect traveling in Africa to be complicated and tiring on the patience, but I was really looking forward to leaving. I hate this
place right now, and i want to go to Thailand. I'm going to go walk around the parking lot.

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