By Anver Versi.

Recently, a series of documentaries shown on Britain's Channel 4 was watched enthusiastically by millions of viewers but left the Nigerian authorities fuming. The subject, by Cameroonian TV producer Moise Shewa was the notorious Lagos Airport.

Anyone whose has had the misfortune of having to pass through Lagos airport will attest that this is the nearest you can get to hell without being burnt. No sooner do you set your foot on Nigerian soil, exhausted after a long flight, then you are faced with a swarm of 'officials' all clamouring 'to take you tru himigration'. Arguing or protesting is of no avail. You are pushed and jostled by sweating bodies in the sweltering heat. There is total confusion everywhere. You hang on to your hand-luggage and passport like grim death.

Getting through immigration, at least in my and most of my colleagues experience, has been a nightmare. People push and elbow you out of the way and you have to fight your way to the desk where a scowling official keeps you waiting while he attends to other business. When he finally looks at your document, he pulls and pushes at your precious passport as if it were a lump of dough and will refuse you entry on any pretext.

You quickly learn the ropes. A little bit of dash speeds things along. Then you have to sweat it out in the baggage hall, wondering if your luggage made the same flight as you. You watch anxiously as massive packing cases appear on the carousel, some tilting at dangerous angles, some giving up the struggle against gravity and crashing to the floor. All around you people are milling about, babies crying and someone is always having a loud argument.

Finally, if you are lucky, you spy your suitcase, battered almost our of shape, bumping along the limping carousel. Before you can reach for it, someone has grabbed it and appointed himself your 'pota'.

You are then accosted by the money-changers. "You wan Naira? How much poun you got? Give me poun, I give you Naira." Polite refusals elicit scowls. The worst thing is you don't know who is really an official and who is a tout since everyone seems to be wearing some sort of badge.

You then wait and wait and wait as the customs officers slowly and methodically go through the piles of luggage. They go through your case, crumpling your clothes until they hit on your electronic diary. "Na what dis? You no be allowed bring dis ting for Nigeria. You have permit? Where you permit?"

"I did not think I needed a permit for my electronic diary," you explain.

"Na dis be Nigeria. Maybe this ting be dangerous. You no have permit. I go arrest you. Stan one side."

Visions of your life slipping away inside a Nigerian jail flash before your eyes. You fumble about in your pockets and come up with a 'permit' that looks suspiciously like a dollar note.

At last you are out but are you safe? Your 'pota' has disappeared in the wall of humanity that lines the outside of the airport. "You wan taxi for hotel? I have air con. Pojo 404 with air con. You come wid me." Someone violently tugs your sleeve. "You come wid me. Air con, Nissan." Someone else tugs the other sleeve also offering an air conditioned ride in his limousine.

"My bag," you wail. Then you spot your 'pota' across the road, standing next to a dilapiated looking car. He is furiously beckoning you. "You na take dis for car. Air con..."

A hour or two later, as the car inches through the Lagos gridlock, you finally reach your hotel. The whole episode, from landing to collapsing on your hotel bed has taken five hours. This, at least, was my experience - albeit a few years ago. And the return trip was worse. I had to go through four security checks.

The memory of my nightmare trip through the airport was so powerful that I put off several visits to Nigeria - a country which, once you have gone through the 'teeth' of the airport, I am very fond of and where I have many good friends.

But compared to the experiences I have heard from other travellers through Lagos airport, my own troubles seem puny.

Coming back to Moise Shewa's TV series. They were based around the efforts of the new airport Managing Director, Peter Igbenedion to clean up and modernise the airport. When I first heard about the project, I thought he had taken on an impossible task. But the film showed how he and his staff set about cleaning the Aegean stables. They chased off the touts and hangers on, they cleared the area of stall holders who had taken root for over 20 years, they fumigated the place to rid it of battalions of cockroaches, they installed a new, modern bar and new walkways. The drama was fascinating as people tried to hang on to their previous privileges. I thought the film was fair and positive.

It came as a big surprise therefore when the Nigerian High Commissioner in London complained about the series and said it gave a negative impression of Nigeria. I beg to differ. The airport gave a negative impression of Nigeria - not the film. On the contrary, by allowing the film to be made, Nigeria, in my book demonstrated its determination to improve and that is positive. In a democracy, you don't shoot the messenger if you don't like the message.