American journalist narrates his experience of going by bus from Lagos to Abuja.
People told me I was insane for going on that journey. Two Nigerians I met, from Lagos, described it to me as "the deadliest drive in Africa." But they only told melater.The day I embarked on a bus ride from Lagos to Abuja, Nigeria, I had no idea of any of that. And on the morning of Aug. 25, everything seemed to be going as smoothly as could be expected.
I was in Nigeria to take photos with my reporter and friend Connor Adams Sheets, who was set to arrive later that day in Abuja on a fellowship with the International Center For Journalists. But I had flown into Lagos, and needed to find a cheap way to get 475 miles (650 km) northwest to the Nigerian capital. I decided on the bus.
After haggling with the guy who organizes the rides and agreeing to pay the arbitrary sum of 4,680 Naira (about $29), I boarded the bus at the muddy, hectic lot that passes for the Lagos bus depot at about 6:30 a.m.
The word "bus" was extremely generous; it was nothing more than a 13-seat rusting white Toyota Coaster -- or "Toaster," as the locals called it -- minivan that was packed by 7 o'clock.
Every inch of ratty upholstery but those taken up by my wiry frame was occupied by Nigerian travelers, mostly sullen adult males who were not making the trip for the first time, who waited with me. And waited. In true Lagos style, the driver didn't show up until 8:30.
By then, the aisles were stacked so high with luggage, bags of clothes and even an old, crusty microwave oven that I couldn't even see the woman sitting across the narrow aisle from me. I had to convince the driver not to bungee-cord my bags to the roof.
Not-So-Easy Riding
Once we were off, we had to endure a full hour of Lagos' infamous "go-slow" traffic jams before the chaos of the city faded from view.
The next three hours were pretty hassle-free once you got used to the insanity of dodging craterlike potholes at upward of 80 miles per hour.
Most of the time was spent careening past dense, oppressively wet jungle. But occasionally we slowed down to pass through small villages where hawkers would run alongside us, shoving bags and trays of fruit, nuts and trinkets in the open windows, in mostly doomed attempts to make a few naira off the city folk.
We came upon our first roadblock around 11:30, and it was a fairly easy stop. Only five cars ahead, a few soldiers -- or maybe they were cops, you can usually never tell for sure which are which in Nigeria -- with AK-47s slung over their shoulders peered in the windows before waving us on.

We stopped a few times along the way to urinate or grab some fiery "food is ready" (Nigerian for fast food) and every so often the G-force of the van's pothole-evading maneuvers threw me against the window glass, but we were making good time.
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The driver had estimated that the trip would take about eight hours, and it seemed like we'd be in Abuja in time to have a drink or two before dinner.
Confrontation
I hadn't anticipated how many checkpoints would be ahead in Boko Haram-era Nigeria. Terrorism is a daily concern, and the government has clamped down hard.
I counted a succession of 10 military roadblocks over the course of the journey, which stretched to 13 claustrophobic hours, and it seemed that each stop was more intensive than the last.
The men with the oddly painted AKs -- a blue stock here, a yellow barrel there, as if each piece was from a different war -- started asking for ID and suspiciously examining my passport and visa. At the fourth checkpoint, they opened the door and scanned the interior of the bus, eyeballing me but eventually letting us proceed.

A couple dozen miles after that stop, we passed a semitruck that had rolled off the road, spilling its contents into the brush.
Shortly thereafter we came upon checkpoint 5, the worst

Interesting...but if you had book ahead with aero airline, you can get a ticket fare for that distance for something around 60 bucks