Ilorin is a bright, hot, dusty, smelly, busy, noisy, chaotic, colourful place. It is Nigeria’s seventh city. It has a population similar to Greater Manchester and it sits in a kind of geographical hinterland between the Sahara to the north and the rainforest (what is left of it) to the south. Not many big trees. Lots of sand. Lots of low, makeshift buildings. Lots of traffic. Not much in the way of a city-wide sewage system (at least not while we were there). Or refuse-collection. But you can’t have everything. We moved to Ilorin in 1979. I was to take up a post as a Lecturer in Zoology at the University, which I did, with enormous enthusiasm, for a term or so. It was fun. We would explore the city and its vibrant markets. We would chill out in the pool at the Kwara Hotel. I even took to the field once to play cricket for Kwara State (It was 102° F / 39°C. I scored two. I blame the heat.). But there were all sorts of problems. I won’t bore you with them all. The biggest challenge was accommodation. There wasn’t any. The University had recruited teaching staff from all around the world, but they hadn’t actually started building the campus. So we taught in a series of unsuitable buildings that had been commandeered from a local college, while lecturers and their families were billeted in unsavoury flats around the town. It all developed into a bit of a Gordian knot and eventually, pretty disappointed, we flew back to Britain. And that was that. I don’t suppose I shall ever go back. But Ilorin isn’t the kind of place you forget easily. So that’s my map pin. The photos are snapshots from our album. And the link should take you to the campus, close to where we stayed.
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