Let me check...
Nope, they are not made of crystal but then it doesn't take that to see past the end of the nose, eh?
Here it would seem we can cue the sound of chickens coming home to roost. Years of abuse of the unhappy indigenes of the Niger Delta, years of neglect of basic security measures while chasing the quick buck, years of guys just like me being willing, proud even, to take a chance.... Hmmm.
We were passing that garbage dump that used to decorate the road to Elelenwo one evening when I thought to remark on the size of the chickens up there picking over the choicest bits.
The hostie replied, 'Ah, Captain! Those are not chickens!'
'They aren't?'
'Ah, no! They are vultures!'
'My goodness! No wonder the eggs tasted so strange.' Cue one very long silence during the remaining journey.
When I first came to Nigeria back in the early Eighties I got a ride out to the beach near Escravos in a Bell 47. After we landed I got out to find myself standing on this rather weird, rubbery stratum. It reminded me of the peat you find on some of the beaches in New England, but I knew it wasn't that. Too, there was this pervading stench of crude oil.
It was explained to me that this is what you get when you soak beach sand in crude oil. It sure made for a nasty environment and I guess the folks around us were expected to scrape out a living as fishermen while living there. Now the Bell 47 has mostly passed into history and I bet landing on the beach near Escravos has done the same.