The seed that made my fears grow was planted before I got on the plane. It was last Christmas and my destination was Owerri in eastern Nigeria.

At the ticket counter, I paid an additional excess baggage fee and checked my bags. Further down the hall and to my right was the escalator that took me to the second floor. There, on the second floor, my hand luggage passed under the scanning device and my body was searched. After security clearance, I put on my shoes, belt, and hat, retrieved my carry-on, and walked a short distance to sit in one of the gleaming metal chairs.

As I arrived early, an hour before boarding, I began to read a novel. Thirty minutes after my reading, I heard the announcement of my name over the megaphone, as well as two other names. The announcer directed us to go down to the billing desk.

Still in my seat, I waited and watched to see who my companions would be. A tall, gangly man rose from the seated crowd. He walked away. After a while I followed him, a reasonable ten steps behind. We passed the small corner by the security booth and went down the escalator, then walked towards the check-in counters, behind which was a baggage room.

“They told me to come down,” the lanky man told one of the airline staff on duty outside the baggage hall.

“Don’t listen to them,” the sentry replied to the lanky man. Suddenly, and without further explanation, the skinny man turned and walked away. For a second I was tempted to join him since we were summoned together, our fates joined at the hip, I reasoned. As I wondered whether to follow the tall man or not, curiosity got the better of me. It would be better to know the purpose of the call. I ignored the sentry’s advice and instead headed to the back room.

Inside the room were three men, two of them dragging bags on the conveyor belt and the third sitting on a small wooden stool. Around him were boxes and luggage belonging to other travelers.

“Is this your bag, sir?” said the seated man, pointing his finger.

“Yes, it’s my bag,” I replied.

“What’s in there?”

“My belongings, you can open them if you want.”

“No Oga, Merry Christmas.” In addition to the seasonal greeting, the man began to smile and continued to wish me the best. If there was anything in my luggage that was illegal or dangerous, the staff did not make it known. Therefore, neither my luggage nor I deserved extra attention. However, any prolonged discussion may have made the situation worse, so with a thousand naira note, I secured my freedom.

Back on the escalator, I headed back upstairs, ready to go through security a second time. The staff at the security post said to me, “Did you go through security earlier?”

“Yes,” I said, and they let me in, back to the waiting room, without repeating the search or frisking. Fear, I swore to myself. It was at that moment that the seed of fear began to grow and take root. Any villain determined to wreak havoc would have taken advantage of the lax security procedure.

I couldn’t help but think how pervasive this attitude of circumventing procedures can be throughout the local aviation system.

By now, my senses were on high alert. Where a cockroach roams, there are many more. I looked around, and the passenger waiting area was in a mini riot. Every five to 10 minutes, dozens of waiting passengers would rush to any uniformed person to ask about the status of their flight. Was it the announcement about a trip to Abuja, to Enugu, to Owerri, people would ask? Confusion was everywhere. General announcements were never clear. Information about flight delays did not arrive promptly; in fact, there was a general lack of diligence in informing the passengers. I was worried that I didn’t know if the mess was limited to baggage and security or if it extended to the entire system.

My concern is that what one sees wrong with the performance of these airlines may pale in comparison to what one does not see. Yes, there have been some improvements over the years, but these improvements are not enough when it comes to a life and death scenario. Gone are the days when passengers loaded or retrieved their bags directly from the plane, but the progress made so far is not enough.

Why would an airline staff announce a passenger to come to the counter and someone else cancel the announcement? Perhaps a lack of supervision, the extent and depth of which no one knows.

Nigerians don’t want to find out about the health of the local aircraft only when a plane falls out of the sky. Now is the time to ask questions and enforce strict procedures. Which experts make sure that airlines keep their planes in peak condition to fly at all times? Just because planes fly and land doesn’t mean they meet maintenance standards. Nothing prevents officials from delaying aircraft maintenance to maximize profits. A system that allows a thousand naira note to avoid baggage screening could easily allow a million naira to delay or bypass routine aircraft screening. Public access to the maintenance records of these airlines is justified.

However, my experience on board was somewhat different. Getting on the plane calmed my fears a bit. The crews were professional and the passengers were treated with respect. A voice from the cockpit apologized for the delay and promised a pleasant flight.

The seat I was assigned was by the window, but a man was already sitting there when I arrived. Seeing me, the man made a half-hearted effort to drag himself out of it, but as fear had seized me, I stopped him and took his seat, which was in the middle. From where I sat, my eyes searched for any sign of a malfunctioning system. I found a crack in the back of a seat diagonally in front of me. The hallway floor was clean but dusty. To me these are all additional signs that the local airline systems and apparatus in Nigeria might not be working as smoothly as envisioned.

My mind started to go back and I remembered the shock I went through before getting on the plane, the unnecessary announcement for me to come back to the check-in counter, and the fact that security didn’t check me again when I arrived. I returned

Forty-five minutes was all it took for the plane to reach Owerri. On board, the flight, drinks and snacks served temporarily distracted me from my fear.

After seven days in eastern Nigeria, he was ready to fly back. At the Samuel Mbakwe airport where my plane was waiting, the power went out twice in one hour. Later, I boarded the plane, not knowing if the plane’s light would go out in the same way.

Halfway to our destination, at a high altitude, the pilot began to make an announcement, but the voice was muffled and hard to hear. I turned to my neighbor on the right and asked what he thought of the garbled ad.

“It’s because the plane is traveling at a very high speed,” he replied. My heartbeat started to skip, and I must have looked as pale as the inside of a banana.

“Don’t worry,” the man told me, “we’ll land safely.”

Wake up, fellow citizens! There is a lot to worry about regarding local air flights in Nigeria. It is my sincerest wish and prayer that all who travel with the many airlines arrive safely at their destinations. For this reason, airline employees and inspectors must undergo repeated weekly refresher courses and training. Records of employee training and airline inspections should be posted for everyone to review. Let’s prevent a tragedy before it happens.

End