There is a lot to flee from in Nigeria, writes Paul Cullen, whovisited last year. Yet the country fascinates because of its originalpromise
The country to which Baby O and its mother will be returned shortly is one of the most challenging places in the world in which to live. All the hope and despair which characterise Africa are to be found in concentrated form in Nigeria, the continent's most populous state and one of its greatest disappointments.
Nigeria has exported over €300 billion worth of oil since the late 1950s, but has precious little to show for it. In that time it has suffered one million deaths in a civil war, the assassination of two leaders, six successful coups and four failed ones, and 30 years of army rule.
Literacy is lower than in the war-torn Democratic Republic of Congo, and the value of the currency, the naira, has fallen from $2 to one cent. "A decade ago, a teacher could look forward to buying a car after a year's work. Now he'd be lucky to afford a bicycle," one man told me there last year.
But figures alone cannot adequately convey the harshness of everyday life in the country. Ordinary life is extremely difficult: from the electricity, which flickers on and off with reliable unpredictability each day, to the constant petrol famines in this, the world's sixth-largest oil producer.
Then there are the constant demands for bribes and favours, the behaviour which has earned Nigeria second place among the world's most corrupt countries. Not to mention the threat of violence resulting from ethnic or religious tensions or perpetrated by the police, army or marauding gangs.
The latest Human Rights Watch report details hundreds of killings of ordinary civilians by the Nigerian military, as well as floggings and amputations imposed by Islamic Sharia courts in the north.
Yet it is important to stress that most of the violence is concentrated along the fault line between Islam and Christianity, in the oil-rich east and in the slums of Lagos and other large cities.
Many, if not most, of the Nigerians coming to Ireland do not come from these troubled regions.
In addition, the situation has improved since civilian rule was restored a few years ago. According to Human Rights Watch, the government has taken some steps to tackle corruption and to investigate earlier human rights abuses.
It is also worth pointing out that Nigeria has no monopoly on misery. Up to 50 states in the world are poorer, and few of these are lucky enough to be sitting on the bounty of oil riches.
Yet Nigeria fascinates because of its original promise. It should have turned out differently. Unlike so many other African states, the country had an established professional class before the British pulled out. It had oil and other valuable exports, and English was widely spoken.
Instead, it turned into a kleptocracy run by the military for its own benefit. The air force has more than 10,000 men but only 20 aircraft.
Up to 75 per cent of the army's equipment is broken or missing - and these are the privileged sections of society.
Squeezed between the powerful army and a grasping elite, many ordinary Nigerians want out. Few are under threat from state violence, and so do not fit the West's definition of an asylum-seeker. Yet they travel anyway.
The trail follows the path of least resistance, ending up in expatriate communities already based in Europe or the US.
Like the Irish in the US, Nigerians have discovered that the road to salvation passes through the network of emigrants who have already blazed a trail to prosperous lands.