10/6/05. Kano, Nigeria.

Oh bloody brilliant.

"NUMBERS! GIVE US NUMBERS FOR POOL!" shout the armed, black-uniformed cops/soldiers at the checkpoint. I don't know what to say. I don't know what they mean. Everything I've read about Nigeria says I'll have to dish out fat bribes to heavy-handed officials every 10 miles.
But what are these "numbers"? Do they signify a cash handout? I politely request clarification. It transpires that the four of them are avid lottery players and they want me to choose their numbers for next week. I pick 16 digits, even trying to think of lucky ones, and am sent on my way with a promise of a share in any winnings.

Around seven checkpoints today, no bribes, no requests for bribes. The officials, on the border and all the way down to Kano, are as nice as pie, if not nicer. Maybe it's just the south that's tricky?
The people I meet today are all keen to reverse Nigeria's overseas image as a corrupt hellhole. So far, they're right and the guidebooks are wrong.
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The carnage on the roads continues. Today a question is answered - what happens when one hits a small goat with a motorbike? Who, if you'll pardon my callousness, comes off worst?
Gratifyingly, it's not me that hits one. I'm overtaking an old geezer on a moped when a goat - as usual - runs across the road. Old geezer hits it as I pass him, allowing me to settle a troubling issue without risk of personal harm. The moped's front wheel ploughs into the hapless beast, and old geezer bumps straight over it, with an amusing expression of sudden alertness zipping across his mug.

Motorbikes - 1. Goats - 0.
Good news for mankind. Next week on "Bike Or Beast?" - the donkey.
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