A Cool Coup

Tragedy in Rwanda and Burundi notwithstanding, Africa has seen political upsets that were not deadly. The continent was my "beat," and I spent time there as a reporter over a period of years.

It was my dubious privilege to be vanning through Nigeria just at the stroke of the 1975 coup which overthrew President Jacobou Gowan while he and his family were out of the country. A cool coup as coups go, it was unnerving nonetheless, and I learned from it some lessons in priorities.

About 18 of us -- reporters, educators and health professionals -- were traveling from Cotonou in Benin to Lagos, Nigeria by road because Air Cameroon had overbooked our flight. Time commitments in Africa are vulnerable to interruption, so Africa's institutions are sometimes unprepared for Americans' faith in schedules.

However disruptive, the eight-hours overland gave me a perspective I've never forgotten, and made me resolve never to drive in Nigeria. The horn is the most important part of the vehicle. Brakes count for little, probably because on old, oft- repaired systems they frequently fail. One look downhill from the road to Enugu will show the result in tangled metal.

At crossroads between mud and wattle-built villages, we were halted frequently and checked out by armed soldiery.

We were getting used to this when at one village we were asked to step outside the van, line up and hand over our passports. The officer in charge sat at a folding table examining our documents with great thoroughness. We waited. Sweating.

At last he spoke to our guide, who sang out, "Campbell? The officer wants to talk to you."

Well, in all the movies I've ever seen, this is the end. I said goodbye to my companions. Their grins of sheer relief told me I could expect no rescue heroics.

Standing before the officer, I discovered that I can be very humble when it's appropriate.

He read out my address: "Thirty seven twenty three thirty sixth street in Mount Rainier, Maryland?"

"Yessir!" I replied.

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to put a diagonal between the house number and the street number? Like this -- 3723/36th? Otherwise they run together." His tone was mellow with sweet reason.

He had to explain this twice as my numbed brain took in the fact that I was not, after all, being stood against a banana tree and shot.

I thanked the officer for his wise and practical suggestion, and told him that I would put it into practice at once.

Back in line, I realized the tension had brought on another problem. I asked our guide for goodness' sake to find out where the nearest facility was.

The officer chuckled merrily and said that he did not know how the lady would like the "facility," but it was -- that way. He pointed toward the forest. I started out. Hearing footfalls behind me, I looked back. I had a following. So my companions were not all so cool as they had pretended.

The facility was a three-foot square of concrete with a six-inch hole in it. Low- tech, but servicable. I noticed that on one corner was etched the date of its dedication; September 17, 1968.

First world to third world; priorities differ. In some places, basic elements of life receive respect. It pays to remember this.