Joy, jealousy on trip to Singapore

When I was booking a British Airways flight from London to Singapore, I was surprised by a wide range of choices they offered me: 10 options and various planes. They have 10 flights to Singapore every day, including those for their One-World alliance with Qatar Airways. This is in sharp contrast to their only one […]

When I was booking a British Airways flight from London to Singapore, I was surprised by a wide range of choices they offered me: 10 options and various planes. They have 10 flights to Singapore every day, including those for their One-World alliance with Qatar Airways. This is in sharp contrast to their only one flight from London to Abuja, my regular route. And so began some simultaneous feeling of joy and jealousy. Joy because of the multiple choices for my trip to Singapore: I can fly in the morning, afternoon or night, directly or through different routes. A tinge of jealousy because a tiny nation of only six million people has such varied choices from just one airline, while my country of 237 million people, ‘the giant of Africa’, hasn’t. After all, we had the same coloniser: Britain. And Nigeria had even had an early advantage, having gained its independence five years earlier than Singapore, which had to deal with other difficulties, such as expulsion from Malaysia and Japanese occupation during the Second World War. But they are now an advanced economy; and we are not.

That reality manifested itself in flight choices. I looked at the 10 options offered to me and chose an afternoon flight via Doha, the Qatari capital. This wasn’t my first trip to Singapore. I was there last year but briefly and in a non-stop 14-hour flight from London. It was a nice flight with some of the best foods and in-flight entertainments provided, but I wanted to try another route this time and selected Doha. It wasn’t my first flight to Doha too. I was there six years ago in a more privileged position. I was invited along with a colleague from the London School of Economics by the Qatari government to participate in drafting media ethics guidelines for Doha Media Hub. We flew first class, were warmly received at the airport and treated like princes throughout our stay in Doha. That positive memory prompted my choice of the Doha route. I wanted to get a glimpse of the place again and the changes that happened since my last visit, which was before Qatar hosted the football World Cup in 2022.

My flight was on a Friday afternoon, and I had an appointment and quick shopping to do in London before leaving. I finished them a bit late and still took the risk of taking the Picadilly Line train to Heathrow Airport. Picadilly, London’s popular means of transport to Heathrow Airport, is cheaper than other trains to the airport and more environmentally friendly than using a car. But it is slower than the new Elizabeth Line and Heathrow Express trains. Still, I took it because I assumed that there wouldn’t be a long queue. After all, I told myself, I was taking just one of the several daily flights going to a small nation. I was wrong. As soon as I arrived at Heathrow Terminal 4 to check in my bag, I saw a huge crowd in zigzag lines at the site of my designated airline: Qatar Airways. This can’t be mine, I said, as I rechecked my itinerary to re-confirm if I was in the right place. I was. I asked an airport staff if this was the right place, he checked my ticket and said it was. I looked at the queue again and knew that if I followed it, I would miss my flight.

I stood there for few minutes blaming myself for coming late and thinking about what I should do. Luckily for me, I have a priority status in the British Airways Club. And, although this trip is via a Qatar Airways plane, I booked it with British Airways and they were the ones who made the arrangement as part of their partnership. So, I should have the same status in Qatar Airways as I have in the BA. I picked out my phone, opened my BA app and displayed my executive membership status. I went straight to the Qatar Airways staff guarding the queue and asked her: “Where is the lane for first-class passengers?” She looked at me suspiciously and demanded to see my ticket. I refused to show her my ticket but flashed my BA priority status card to her. She said: “Oh, sorry, sir. The first-class and priority lanes are on the other side, there,” she pointed to the place and asked one staff (apparently her junior) to take me to the place. I quickly changed my posture and walked majestically behind him.

When we reached there, he introduced me to the person manning the place. I flashed my priority card to him. “You are welcome, sir,” he said as he let me pass and join the line. There were only four persons in front of me. And in less than 12 minutes I had already checked in my bag and received my boarding pass. The joy was back on track.

It was only dampened a bit after boarding the plane. There, the real first-class passengers took their luxurious seats and I took a less cosy one. It was still better than the small seats behind me where less fortunate passengers were packed like sardines, but it was a far cry from the spacious first-class fully flat beds where you can lie down and sleep comfortably. Class discrimination is well known in aviation industry.

Our plane was a Boeing 777-300ER (Extended Range) capable of taking up to 400 passengers. It seemed fully booked as I saw so many passengers trooping in and taking their seats. And it wasn’t the only Qatar Airways flight going to Doha that afternoon. Two had left in my presence and others were preparing. Ours was scheduled to leave at 3:35pm. We

left 15 minutes later.

The take-off was smooth and the sky was crystal clear, promising a turbulent-free trip. I was on the window seat looking outside and enjoying the scenery. Inside, passengers and crew were calm but chatty. It was from their chatting that I realised that the final destinations of the passengers were very different. The person sitting near me was going to Saudi Arabia. The one behind was heading to Pakistan; another to India. And I heard one lady in front of me talking about arriving in Sydney in her Australian accent.

The crew members, too, were multinational: Chinese, Indians and Arabs. Announcements were in English and Arabic; entertainment channels, multilingual.

I watched a few and tried to sleep as I had a long journey of over 20 hours, including a three-hour wait for a connecting flight from Doha to Singapore. But I couldn’t really sleep as my eyes were more interested in looking outside the plane to catch a view of the cities and towns we were passing in the air. I was monitoring them on the flight screen’s journey map: cities and towns in Belgium, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey. Even when we reached the Middle East in the night, I could still see the light in many places in Syria and Iraq, including what the map indicated to be Bagdad (or its outskirts). I enjoyed this and the delicious foods and soft drinks I was served throughout the journey.

We spent seven hours in the air and arrived in Doha after midnight. As we entered Hamad International Airport, I saw that it’s completely different from what it was six years ago. From a medium-sized airport I knew, it has now been transformed into a global aviation hub: full of life and luxury – massive expansion, new buildings and facilities, shopping, dining and relaxation places, prayer rooms, medical centres and various categories of lounges. They even have sleep and shower lounges, where you can pay to sleep for an hour or for a whole night and take a shower before your next flight. They also have a huge garden at the centre of the airport. Passengers from many parts of the world were coming or going to other parts of the world.

Announcement boards were filled with flight information, including flights to Abuja, Lagos and Port Harcourt. Business was booming. Shops and restaurants were busy with customers. Midnight looked like midday. Joy and jealousy returned. I savoured the pleasurable atmosphere but wished it was at our own airport in Abuja. I could recall that when I first visited this place, it wasn’t much better than our Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport. The gap now is hard to describe. I was thinking about this when I suddenly saw a Nigerian colleague, who also lamented about the gap. But we both expressed hope that Abuja would one day reach this standard.

I didn’t stay long with him before boarding my connecting flight to Singapore. It was an Airbus A350-900 plane, smaller than the previous aircraft and with a lesser number of passengers. I got an even better seat and sat on my usual window side. We left at 3:35 in the morning and I began to look through the window to see outside when the sky became clearer. I managed to get a glimpse of places in Oman and India, but the rest was mostly waters. We spent nearly eight-and-a-half hours in the air before reaching Singapore. We landed around 4pm, Singaporean time on Saturday and disembarked quietly. I had been to Changi International Airport before, so finding my way to the immigration checkpoint wasn’t difficult.

They have automated their system and only a few immigration staff were manning the place. I walked straight to the machine and placed my passport on the right spot. The first gate automatically opened for me, but the second refused, even after the machine took my picture. I then realised it was an immigration officer who apparently prevented the gate from opening for me. And I became furious because I felt that there was an element of racism in it as I was the only Black person at that time. He came to me and started asking questions about my purpose of visit. I responded to him harshly and showed him my visa and other documents, including the arrival card I had to complete online three days before the trip. He said he was sorry for stopping me and asking all the questions, but it was the usual thing they did. I asked why they didn’t do the same to others and he said most of those who passed when I came were either Singaporeans or permanent residents, or those who didn’t require a visa to enter Singapore. British nationals, for instance, didn’t require a visa. But I, as a Nigerian with a Nigerian passport, did. I was actually lucky that I was coming from the UK and didn’t visit Nigeria six days before arriving; otherwise I would have to produce a yellow fever vaccination certificate before I would be allowed to enter Singapore. I was aware of the rules and ensured that I wasn’t in Nigeria six days before my travel.

He returned my documents and opened the gate for me, apologising again. I said it was fine. I later realised that he was generous to me. The period of stay in Singapore he granted to me was far longer than what I had asked for, restoring my interest in their country. They were very nice to me right from the UK. When I applied for their visa in London, they granted it to me within 24 working hours. It was one of the fastest visas ever given to me. And it wasn’t a priority or an emergency visa, it was a visa to attend the annual conference of the International Association for Media and Communication Research (IAMCR) and explore potential partnership with other academics.

As soon as I finished with the immigration part, I walked to the baggage claim section and took my bag. I opened my phone to book an Uber car to take me to my hotel, but the app didn’t show anything. I tried again. Nothing. This was odd. I was used to using Uber services all over the world. I had a round-the-world trip last year, visiting some of the biggest and richest nations on earth, and everywhere I went, it was Uber cars I was using. This was partly because of their convenience and largely because I registered with my UK bank account, which makes it easier for me to travel anywhere, even if I don’t have any cash with me. So, it was shocking to see it missing here. Was it not working in Singapore, one of the so-called Asian Tigers well known for their economic advancement? I wondered and then wandered around. I saw a signboard for a local taxi rank, but I didn’t want to use a normal taxi because I didn’t have a single Singaporean dollar and didn’t want to change my pounds at the airport. There were bus and train services, but I didn’t want to use any because I didn’t know the city very well.

I entered a souvenirs’ kiosk and asked its young owner if Uber services were available in Singapore. She said they used to have in the past, but now, Singapore has its own local version of taxi-hailing firm called ‘Grab’. She said I could download their app and use it if I liked. I thanked her and did so.

Within minutes a Grab cab came and took me. The driver, a sociable Singaporean with an excellent knowledge of the city state, gave me a running commentary of the places I saw and the various roads we followed before reaching my hotel: Intercontinental Hotel, located at Robertson Quay, a posh area on the riverside, surrounded by exquisite riverfront restaurants and beautiful scenery.

As soon as the driver parked, the hotel staff opened the car door for me, took my bag and escorted me to the reception. The receptionists welcomed me with broad smiles and promptly attended to me. They had already prepared everything for me as they knew the arrival time of my flight. They accorded me the privileges of my Silver Elite status in the Intercontinental franchise. They said I was entitled to a late check-out and can use various amenities, take their bike and cycle around the city free of charge and order for several other services – many of which I really don’t need.

Intercontinental is a luxury hotel full of leisure services and paraphernalia of taking care of guests. I thanked the staff

and went straight to my room: a luxurious environment, evident in all the things they offered, ranging from the beddings to entertainment instruments. Another source of joy and jealousy, but I focused on the joy. I sank into the soft bed and relaxed. I had wanted to spend a short time and go out to see the city again, but the 24-hour journey took its toll on me. I didn’t leave the room until the following morning when I walked to their restaurant for my breakfast.

The restaurant was a heaven for cuisines. A variety of foods, both those I know and the ones I had never seen before. Among those I know were various seafoods, vegetables, fruits, meats, dumplings, breads, cakes, pastries, yogurt, rice, noodles, numerous nuts, eggs, a legion of omelettes of your choice to be prepared for you. And well-arranged tables characterised the place.

Drinks were too many to mention. Even in my room, varieties of coffees and teas were lined up for me – some of which I was unfamiliar with. Singaporeans love their food and drinks, one of my students had told me before I left London. And what I saw was beyond what he had described. I ate and drank the ones I was familiar with and topped up with sugarcane juice. I didn’t take lunch that day. There was no space for it.

I spent the afternoon moving around the city before going to Nanyang Technological University, the venue of the IAMCR conference I came to attend. I did my registration, attended the opening ceremony and went round the university, a huge institution with many tall buildings, learning centres, shopping areas and sporting facilities. In the subsequent days, I presented my papers at the conference: one on radio’s role in colonisation, surveillance and subversion in colonial West Africa, the other on Russia’s rising influence in West Africa. I also chaired one of the political communication sessions and the group’s business meeting and held a series of fruitful partnership discussions with colleagues from many universities. I along with my school colleagues represented City St George’s, University of London at the conference. Everything was well organised, and all the planned events were conducted smoothly. The only challenge was commuting from my hotel to the university, which usually takes nearly an hour during rush hours on their congested streets.

Singapore is a city state, and commuting from my hotel to the university was like moving from one side of the country to the other. While this was sometimes frustrating, it also gave me an opportunity to see most of the city every day.

When I finished my activities in the university, I visited other parts of the city. They have many shopping centres and cultural monuments, reflecting the ethnic and religious diversity of the country. The places looked generally well-kept. Singapore is probably the cleanest and most organised country I have ever visited – and I visited many. Everything seemed orderly and everywhere was neat. Tree-lined streets, colourful flowers, shiny buildings and well-groomed gardens were all visible to me across the city.

I was initially using only Grab cabs for transport, but when a colleague told me about another taxi-hailing firm, Gojek, I downloaded their app and started using them as well. Both were good and efficient. Singapore has excellent public transport services, too, which I also used when I became more familiar with the city. The buses and trains were cheap by Singaporean standards and well maintained. Singapore is one of the most expensive nations on earth; and although I was enjoying my stay, I was worried about the way it was draining my pocket. However, in fairness to them, there was real value for money. Their items and services were of high standards.

Singaporeans enjoy a high quality of life and many of them don’t consider their country to be expensive. Only one of the cab drivers complained to me about high cost of living. The rest talked about living a good life and being well supported by their government. They spoke positively about the way the country was being governed, which was surprising to me, given the stories I had heard about authoritarianism in the country. They also sounded very patriotic. National flags were displayed in many places for their 60th independence anniversary.

Singapore is also a very low-crime country. I didn’t see any uniformed security personnel (private or public) on the streets and didn’t hear any talks of crimes. Stealing is certainly uncommon. I forgot my water cooler in a public place and after a couple of hours I returned to the place and found it there. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I also observed that many people were carelessly putting their smartphones in open pockets. One of my colleagues from Finland made a similar observation.

I asked one of the people I befriended there why they were not careful with their items and he seemed surprised. He said theft wasn’t common in the city, and even if it happened, the culprit would be caught quickly. It was a sharp contrast to what obtains in my dear country, where kidnapping has become part of life. But I didn’t mention that to him. I just smiled for him to see my appreciation. It was the day I was leaving the country. I felt like extending my stay, but I have other assignments in London and later in Nigeria, so I have to leave their safety zone and face reality.

I took a Gojek cab to the airport and headed straight to the British Airways desk. It didn’t take me more than two minutes to check in and collect my boarding pass. And in less than two minutes, I passed the security checks and their smiling immigration staff. Everything was automated and simplified. They were the fastest and smoothest flight and security checks I have ever experienced in my life.

My return journey was a 14-hour non-stop flight from Singapore to London. I was lucky with this too as we had a very experienced pilot who made the long journey quite enjoyable. We landed smoothly in London on a sunny Friday morning, reflecting the new British summer, which was almost like my familiar Nigerian weather. While some passengers, who were probably hoping for a cooler climate after the warm Singaporean weather, were showing gloomy faces, I was celebrating.