With the Xmas and New Year break just over, lots of people who traveled with some Nigerian airlines have been complaining about the shabby treatment they were accorded by the airlines, such treatments ranged from rudeness, cancellations of booked flights without notice or apology, and various other offences too numerous to state here.There has even been talk about people swearing never to fly some of the airlines ever again even if given free tickets ,and an airline having over a hundred law suits  based on their action over the past two months
Did you or anybody you know suffer from the actions of these airlines especially Virgin Nigeria? post your experience here so that others can learn  from your experience with them.

Read this on one of the Blogs

"Richard Branson, owner of the ‘Virgin’ international brand, for some reason best known to him, decided to tie his fortunes with the Nigerian government in a peculiar relationship to build an airline with the Nigerian label. Through a maze of controversy and unsolicited advice, the two partners managed to wangle their way into an agreement that put the Nigerian flight label back into the international market as Virgin Nigeria Airways. This gave the foreign partner an edge over local airlines and a fleeting monopoly on a few Nigerian international routes. A quick romance began: the so called virgin with the celebrated non-virgin. It was a relationship built on purported national pride and financial gain. The Nigerian partner was too attractive to overlook. Lacking beauty, this partner held a potential beyond genteel looks and fine manners. It held the perceived potential of raking in billions into the Branson Empire. The old Nigerian by-word became true in this instance: ‘money na man’, meaning that a man’s attractiveness is based on his money not his looks, moral fibre or demeanour. For the original ‘virgin’ manners could wait. In fact it could even be taught to this new suitor who was heir to a fine inheritance. It didn’t seem to matter that this ‘heir’s history was wrapped up in corruption and non-performance. A marriage of convenience would do. The ‘virgin’ would keep her so called virginity and the new suitor would celebrate a new identity. The suitor may have reasoned that a good name is better than riches, even if it was not entirely your own. And so in very un-Nigerian fashion; the suitor took on the name of his bride. However, a marriage of convenience is, as it is well known, anything but convenient.

According to Wiki, a marriage of convenience “is a marriage contracted for reasons other than the reasons of relationship, family, or love. Instead, such a marriage is orchestrated for personal gain or some other sort of strategic purpose” In such instances both partners are neither innocent nor naïve since the marriage is contracted on the basis of personal interest. Sometimes marriages of convenience are a smoke screen and hide a dark secret of either or both partners. There are of course exceptions, like when the late renowned academic and writer CS Lewis at age 58, married his Jewish American friend, Joy Davidman Gresham, so that she could remain in the United Kingdom. In this case CS Lewis fell in love with Joy, but still it took a few years for them to arrive at the point where they could live together as husband and wife. Someone once said that all the marriages of conveniences they have known have ended in divorce. However, in Nigeria when they occur among the wealthy, some manage to put up an appearance of cordiality and sometimes civility.

Looking at the two partners, I wonder if each had well studied the other. One claimed virginity, the other did not. However, this ‘virgin’ was no prude; otherwise she would not have contracted a relationship; an alloy of some sort in Nigerian Airspace. Is it possible that the Nigerian partner was deceived into thinking her ‘virgin’ blood could heal his peculiar ailment, an acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS), which seems to resist all medication, treatment, surgery or revival techniques? Or were each blinded by gushing excitement; one swayed by a desire for a second chance with a new name and the other, a deriding desire to add to an ever expanding empire? Close allies of the two partners may best answer these questions. Nevertheless, as is to be expected the alliance not too long after, began to reveal visible cracks and tensions. This tension became an open secret when the ‘virgin’ decided to question the supremacy of her ‘beau’ in Nigerian courts.

The forged alliance of these two partners which began a few years ago was received with mixed feelings. Like many Nigerians I did not think too much about the marriage of convenience because it came at a time when travel in Nigerian airspace presented few options. I figured that we could benefit some, from being in-laws of a bride whom we hoped would give us some more courtesy, respect and of course rebate. We hoped that the marriage would work even though it started on a wrong footing. For in-laws like me who needed to travel from Port Harcourt to the United Kingdom, our new bride offered us a complimentary flight from Port Harcourt to Lagos and back. It became so convenient that we naturally made her our favourite among other local and international brides. We were forming an old familiar habit that had kept us travelling with our late in-law the first wife who bore Nigeria’s name. She was notorious for her disrespect, inefficiency and lack of decorum, and when she died few mourned her passing. I remember an uncle consoling himself in those days when she flew the Nigerian airspace and international routes. It was fashionable then in the 1980’s to hijack planes: My uncle summarized that one thing you could be sure of is that she would never be hijacked by terrorists. Old habits they say die hard.

My habit of flying with the ‘virgin’ was challenged a few months ago when I had a personal encounter with our new bride. At the Lagos international Airport where the bride loved to operate local flights from, I had sat patiently like most Nigerians waiting to board the Port Harcourt plane when an announcement was made that the Abuja flight had been delayed because it was being repaired. I sat in wonderment. How could the ‘virgin’ have frightened its own passengers by such a rash announcement? A few minutes later, a new announcement was made. There would be a plane switch and the Abuja passengers would be put on another plane. My mind took a brief flight into history. Surely this plane switch which was for the benefit of the now frightened Abuja passengers, would not involve the Port Harcourt plane. I reflected that Port Harcourt has had a history of plane crashes, from planes which either took off from Port Harcourt or landed in Port Harcourt. Had we not lost some of our most bright young students, barely two years before? ‘Not the Port Harcourt flight!’ I said to myself.

Not too long after, my flight was announced. The ‘virgin’ though late on the Abuja route had kept to schedule for the Port Harcourt flight. The long and short of this story is that I found myself in a strange plane called Blue Line which was to take us to Port Harcourt in the name of the ‘virgin’. In it was one staff of the ‘virgin’ and a foreign crew. When the plane taxied on the tarmac, it sounded like a ‘Molue’ bus and we all protested loudly at the awful sound coming from the wheels. We were expected to be comforted when the non-Nigerian air hostess who could barely speak English told us: ‘don’t worry; it’s only an old plane!’ Most passengers wanted to get out but the pilot refused to let us out and insisted on flying us to Port Harcourt. God must have been on that flight because we were providentially kept on a queue of planes waiting to take off from the runway. The pilot adamant pilot tried to keep to his schedule. His plane was on hire, to not fly, was to miss the Nigerian money. While we were on the runway, thick smoke began to rise from the left side of the plane, and although we asked to be let out of the plane, the pilot asked us not to worry, that fire engines were on their way. True to his word in quick succession we were surrounded by fire engines which successfully doused the wheels. We remained on the runway for over an hour because the pilot said he could not taxi back until the plane’s wheels had cooled. After a frustrating period of protest, a fight ensued within the plane and buses were called to drive us back to the airport building. During this traumatic experience when we were held captive by the pilot and his crew, no passenger considered forcing the doors of the aircraft open.

I recall calling a reporter from NTA on my phone alerting her to what had just happened. She declined to come to the Airport to get our story, because she believed that the distance between NTA and the Airport would prevent her from getting to the airport on time for the story. At the airport there were no senior officials to receive or comfort us. We received neither apologies nor compensation. We were like female victims in a family rape case who have been violated by a trusted one. In retrospect, I wonder if Richard Branson and his side of the ‘virgin’ family had known that this unscrupulous plane was flying the Abuja route in the Virgin name.

When I discovered on another trip to Nigeria that the 'virgin' had stopped its alliance with the strange plane and crew, I decided to keep faith with the ‘virgin’ and continued my old habit. As I have since learned, old habits are potential dangers when they blind us from reality. This habit was so formed that even when complimentary flights from Lagos to Port Harcourt and back on the ‘virgin’s’ international flights were discarded, I continued to keep faith with her, that is, until the 3rd of December when I again encountered issues which may spring from a hastily contrived marriage. The ghost of the past was finally catching up with the pretentious virgin and her partner had still not been healed of his disease.

On my last trip to Nigeria on 17 November 2008, I noticed that the ‘virgin’s’ flight to Nigeria had been cancelled a day before. The consolation for the passengers who joined my flight was an overnight stay at the Hilton and some discount on a new purchase of an international ticket. This of course was of no particular interest to me since I was unaffected by the delay. Unknown to me at the time, delays had become a regular occurrence in the ‘virgin’s’ flights.

After a brief stay in Nigeria, I returned to MMA to take the return flight to the UK on the 2nd of December 2008. The counter was void of passengers and I wondered why, as I walked in, thinking I had arrived a little early. I moved towards a ground staff for the usual clearance. My passport was scanned without any comments from the two ground staff who dealt with me. Afterwards, I moved on to the booking counter where I was told that the flight had been cancelled. I had flown in from Port Harcourt that evening without being contacted about the cancelled flight. Why had I not been informed? They replied that they had called my phone and even sent a text. I disagreed with them, until they checked their data and admitted that their call had not gone through. I was told that I could check in my luggage and return the next morning for the flight to London. I asked where I could stay for the night. Their response was that I should take care of myself. I refused and insisted on being taken to a hotel. When they saw I was serious and did not intend to leave their counter, they asked me to wait for a driver who would take me to a hotel where other passengers from outside Lagos were being lodged for the night. After a two hour wait, I was taken to Brazol Hotel by Charity bus stop, Oshodi. I was visiting this hotel for the first time and was stunned by the ‘virgin’s’ choice of hotel. Oshodi, would not usually be considered a secure place for a passenger straight from the international airport at night. It was late and I was helpless, with only a few naira and pounds in my bag. I had unwittingly become the captive of the ‘virgin’ again. I was allocated room M103, which when I quickly inspected, I found to have a faulty lock. I requested for a change of room and was assigned to room M101, My dinner was paid for by the ‘virgin’. It was worth eight hundred naira (N800). My hotel room cost the ‘virgin’ seven thousand naira (N7,000) for the night. Even if I was paying, wild horses could not have drawn me there, but the ‘virgin’ had hoodwinked me. After praying, I went to bed trusting in the mercy of a just God.

In the morning, I asked for a glass of juice and was told that the ‘virgin’ had not paid for our breakfast. At the airport, we suffered another two hour delay where I met with women, one with children who had been denied accommodation the previous night by the ‘virgin’s’ ground staff. The 9 am flight left Nigeria behind schedule, at 11 am. We were given a letter which claimed our flight had been delayed because of “unscheduled maintenance of operating aircraft”. The letter informed us that we were entitled to a 25% discount on our next purchase of a ‘virgin’ return ticket. When we complained, we were told that Nigerian laws allow them to give us only a 25% instead of the conventional 100% discount compensation, we could have received in London from the same airline. Since all our objections fell on the ground staff like water on a dog’s back, we decided to create a list of passengers who were prepared to challenge our treatment at the hands of the purported virgin. We questioned the veracity of the flight cancellation, when we discovered that in the past two weeks many other ‘virgin’ flights had been cancelled in the same manner. I counted the number of passengers on this UK flight. Besides a few babies we were roughly 60 passengers on flight VK293 which has up to 261 seats. The date was 3rd December, 2008. Obviously, Nigerians like me, were getting tired of being violated and they had made their absence known. The contrived romance is over; the ‘virgin’ has lost her virginity.
When Billionaire, Richard Branson, started his records selling business as a young man, the name ‘Virgin’ was a selling point because he tried to keep the records new; a distinction which other record shops did not care to keep when they sold records which had been handled and played at their shops. With a history of 360 companies with the Virgin brand, he is the 236th richest person in the world (Forbes list of Billionaires, 2008). The attempted conquest of the Nigerian airspace and its market has backfired and the Virgin brand is at risk. Richard Branson is already having second thoughts about this aviation misadventure.

Meanwhile the moral of this story is, be wary of great expectations from any marriage of convenience. If you are a regular traveller, find out what you stand to lose or gain if your chosen flight is delayed or cancelled. And if you fly any airline by habit, step back and do a regular review of your decision. It might save you some money, some time or even your life.

Timi Hyacinth

wonderfully written