In this second part, Nigeria Info News Manager Ufuoma explains how his visa issue was resolved and the eventual journey to Doha for the World Innovation Summit for Health.
As my heart sank, too many thoughts ran through my brain.
“Ufuoma, why didn’t you print this very important e-mail out?”
“But how can you be this careless for such an all-expense paid trip that all you needed to do was just show up?”
I tried to get my act together but standing in front of the counter and watching others go through the process of verifying their documents was doing my head in.
Then it struck me.
The #WISH7 organizers have always said to call or send an email if you need anything. I must give kudos to the Qatar Foundation and all the #WISHSummit staff. The level of efficiency and organization for this program and the one from two years ago is not what I’m used to as a Nigerian.
“You’ve been invited to #WISH7.”
“Would you like to attend or invite someone else?”
“Please send us your picture so we can work on your registration, visa, and hotel.”
“Do you like your flight booking or you would need an adjustment…?”
Just then, I quickly came back from my mini-reminiscing to face my present predicament. I realized a call would be quicker to get a response from the organizers than an email.
So I searched for a recent email from them, got the number, and dialed.
“Hello, my name is Ufuoma, from Lagos, Nigeria. I would like to…”
Just as I was trying to explain how I couldn’t find my visa email bla bla, a WhatsApp message from Uche Nwanyiocha dropped.
“Boss, I’ve seen the email…”
Phew!
What relief!!
I dropped the call and clicked on the message. And there it was, not just the visa but my hotel accommodation too.
The sigh of relief must have been one of the biggest ones I ever had in my 44 years on planet Earth.
So I turned to the Qatar Airways personnel and told him I’d found the document I was looking for. I even had to ask if he didn’t need my yellow fever paper.
Dude said no.
Huh? So, all that wahala way I give myself yesterday night dey find paper way yellow na for nothing? (So all the time I wasted looking for my Yellow Fever paper was for nothing?)
Damn!
Anyway, I was already so mentally fatigued that after I got my ticket and was asked if I needed a wheelchair, I didn’t bother to reject it like I always do.
I hate wheelchairs.
From childhood, I’ve always felt it limits me and sort of confines me.
But at this very moment, I didn’t just care about any limitations. All I wanted was to relax and be taken care of.
As I pressed my phone and waited to be wheeled away to the departure lounge, someone tapped my shoulder.
I looked up, and it was my former NN24 and Nigeria Info colleague, Tolulope Adeleru-Balogun. Seeing her brought a smile as I realized at least I’d have company in my four-day stay in Doha as I did last time when I went with my now ex-colleague, Sandra Ezekwesili.
The wait for the flight didn’t take that long. Walking onto the Qatar Airways flight through the Business/First class row to my Economy seat reminded me that I must sha make money (I have to be rich).
The elegance and comfort of that section of the plane is something I really want to experience.
God dey sha (There is God). I must make it in this life.
I was seated at the edge with two Chinese-looking guys beside me. In front of me was a Nigerian who lived in China seemingly for many years.
He was talking to another Chinese-looking dude who spoke almost flawless English.
No, I wasn’t eavesdropping. Their conversation was loud enough for anyone to hear.
Anyway, it was a largely eventful flight but I won’t bore you too much with the details.
From not being able to buy data in flight and resorting to watching the 2023/2024 Premier League and Bundesliga review videos I found, to taking a 45-minute power nap that seemed to cause a fever when I woke up, to the amazing flight attendant who made sure I was comfortable.
Tall, lanky, a beautiful smile, she was such a great host.
I even poured my red wine on myself in a moment of clumsiness. I was offered a PJ by the attendant to change so my jeans could dry up.
I chose not to and was asked to just keep it (the PJ).
I landed at the almost flawless Hamad International Airport - a reminder that my dear Nigeria, with almost if not bigger resources, does not have an airport that can lace the boots of this one.
Anyway, after concluding the immigration formality, I got to the #WISH7 desk at the airport to get the next direction.
Just before then, I tried to see if I could get a new sim or stick with the one I still had from two years ago.
The lady at the Vodafone counter informed me I needed a new one.
How much? After doing the exchange rate maths, I would be spending just over 40k naira.
Forty kini? Money wey I go use cook soup and stew and change go remain small even for this Tinubunomics era?
I just told myself not to bother but to try and see if I could get a roaming package I’d use plus the Wi-Fi at both the hotel and #WISHSummit venue. MTN sha collected my 10k for 1g and still didn’t work even after sorting my roaming settings.
I’m tempted to call them Baskads.
Anyway, I was informed my shuttle to the hotel was ready. As I walked out of the airport, I was met with what looked like a Tesla.
Agba Baller toh bad!!! I mean, who doesn’t like a Royal Qatari treatment?
The driver turned out to be a Ghanaian, married to an Edo woman. We had some conversations about life in Doha, Africa, and our senseless leaders, plus the need to hustle hard to fend for our families.
I finally checked into my room. Compared to the hotel from two years ago, this was slightly a downgrade.
But it was still elegant with its stunning Persian rugs and windows that were permanently locked. The view from the window was just picture-perfect. Loved it.
I did all the unpacking, had my bath, and in about 15 minutes, wrote the first part of the first episode of my Doha Diaries and closed the laptop.
I struggled to sleep but eventually found a way to sleep at about 2:45 a.m. (Doha is two hours ahead of Nigeria) as I had a long day ahead for Wednesday.
And almost like a blink of an eye, my alarm rang at 6:45 a.m. ready for what was to be a long day ahead.
To be Continued…
