Don't lick bay leaves ... and other lessons learned under house arrest.

Note: I started this post back on January 12, but I'm afraid my heart just wasn't in it. So almost one month later, I am finally getting around to finishing it... Enjoy!

I've experienced limitations on my freedom before—usually for financial reasons or due to other obligations (i.e., I can't spend the day with the kids because I have to work, or I can't go on vacation because I don't have the money). And of course, as a child, I lived under my parent's roof and followed their rules (some of the time).

But I have never had someone limit my freedom for political reasons. It's kind of freaking me out.

Tomorrow is day five of a nationwide labor union strike in protest of the end of fuel subsidies. That means no school, no work and no movement for us. The streets are filled with peaceful protestors (and not-so-peaceful gangs of thugs setting up illegal road blocks to extort money from anyone foolish enough to drive by). Stores are closed. The port is closed. Airlines are canceling flights in and out of Lagos. We are, effectively, under house arrest.

What is all the fuss about? Nigeria is Africa's biggest oil producer—the eighth largest oil producer in the world—but, outrageously, it imports almost all of its refined fuel. You'd think gas would be pretty cheap here, but since it all has to be exported, refined somewhere else and then shipped back in, it's not.

So the government has been subsidizing the cost of fuel, keeping the price artificially low at 65 naira per liter or about 40 cents. On January 1, the federal government had the brilliant idea to remove the subsidy without warning. Bam! The price of fuel (including cooking gas and diesel to run generators) rose to 140 naira per liter. Big deal, you think, Americans pay on average $3.40 per gallon of gasoline (or approximately 90 cents per liter). Yes, but do you live on less than $2 a day? About 80 percent of Nigerians do. And driving up the cost of fuel drove up the price of food, clean water, cooking gas, transportation, etc.

The Nigerian people aren't stupid. They would love to see the money now spent on subsidizing fuel spent on infrastructure or public service projects, such as better roads, better schools, a public healthcare system, reliable power supply... But they've heard it all before. We see it in the headlines here every day. "XX million naira dedicated to improving road drainage..." And yet the streets flood here every time it rains.

There is a road we drive over every day on the way to school. My driver tells me that a contract is awarded every year to pave the road and, still, it is rubble. Every six months or so, a truck will dump a load of broken concrete and debris, grade it flat and leave. And we get to drive slower then 5 mph over it to avoid bashing our heads into the seat in front of us.

The money is being pocketed by corrupt officials ... or their brothers ... or their aunts, or their sister's husband's great grandfather's nephew. But it is not being spent on the Nigerian people. It is being spent on lavish lifestyles for the very few elite.

And the federal government wants to end fuel subsidies so they can award more of these (wink, wink) contracts? Nigerians said uh-uh, no way ... and who could blame them?

So while Nigerians fight the good fight (it was a partial victory: The subsidy was reinstated, but raised to 97 naira), we are stuck in our flat. And one can only go to the pool so many times before one starts to go a *little* stir crazy.

Here are just a few of the lessons I've learned while under house arrest:

• You can call it "virtual school" if you want, AISL, but my kids are so sick of being stuck indoors that they can't focus for two minutes, much less two hours. Every homework assignment is an orchestra of crying, yelling and choruses of "I can't do it!" and "It's not fair!"
• Of course, we don't want to waste even a spoonful of food, but you should never lick the meat sauce off of a bay leaf. It's like sticking your tongue into a light socket ... a little too potent for direct contact. Don't believe me? Try it some time ... but don't say I didn't warn you. 
• Water is precious. And it is scary when you only have a limited supply.
• Milk is precious, too. With three kids in the house, you do NOT want to run out of the white stuff. 
• American-based airlines are wusses! Continental and Delta wasted no time canceling their flights and recalling flight crews from Lagos. Meanwhile, Lufthansa, Emirates, Air France, British Airways, South African Airlines... still flying. Continental and Delta: you are wimps. (That said, thank you for the lovely direct flight to Houston, Continental. At least, it is lovely ... when it's not cancelled!) 
• Communication is key. One of my biggest fears was losing contact with family and friends. Thankfully, we never lost Internet or cell phone service, so we were able to stay informed and keep in touch with our family and friends. 
• Twitter rocks. You want to know what's going on around town? Check Twitter. 
• I may have a slight crush on Jon Gambrell, AP reporter... I think it's the sunglasses. And all the excellent reporting he and his team did during the strike.
• My husband's company handled the crisis well. They checked on us every day. Consulted us on the go-forward plans, and kept our safety paramount. If they hadn't, I would have found it verrrrry hard to come back. Thank you.
• Trust your gut. My gut told me to take the first safe flight outta Nigeria, and we did. I was very glad. And when Boko Haram set off a string of attacks in northern Nigeria that killed more than 200 people the day we were scheduled to return to Lagos, my gut freaked out and told me to stay in Houston for one more day. And we did, thanks to a very understanding husband. (My gut may have over-reacted a bit that day.) 
• Nigeria is a young democracy with a history of military coups and a nasty civil war in its recent history. Things can change fast around here. Don't get too comfortable. 

The strike ended, and life is back to normal here in Lagos. But something tells me we may not have seen the last of this issue. The protests were not just about being unable to afford fuel. People in Nigeria are fed up with wasteful and corrupt leadership. They deserve better. And until "better" comes along, this country is a protest—or worse—just waiting to happen.