Abuja’s begging street children are away, only to be replaced by journalists and delegates, writes Alan Fisher. While Commonwealth Conference host Nigeria receives the Queen for the first time (and keeps its real self under wraps) a new storm brews over Zimbabwe

«They have gone,» says John my taxi driver as we reach one of the main intersections in the Nigerian capital. Looking around I have no idea whom he is talking about. «The children who ask for money. They come from across the border in Niger. Yesterday they were here, today gone.»
Abuja is normally heaving with beggar children, with smooth brown skin and huge doe eyes, walking through the traffic, arms outstretched pleading for money while rubbing their stomachs.

The men who try to sell mobile phone cards, fake watches and, bizarrely, small, plastic toy cameras are still here though. But whenever they break cover they are almost immediately warned off by police. There’s no doubt this city is trying to put on its best face while the world watches.

The police deny the beggars have been swept off the streets ahead of this weekend’s Commonwealth summit – but concede that another government department may have had a hand in moving them on. Nigeria wants and needs this summit to be a success and is doing all it can to make sure it happens.

On my first morning here I walked out of my hotel to see a small baby on the back of a motorbike. No more than eight months old, the wide-eyed infant was wrapped in a shawl, tight against its mother’s back . I did a double take, yet it was real and is something I’ve now seen more than once.

At every main junction leading to the hotels where the leaders will stay or the conference centre where they’ll talk there are dark blue police cars with «fire with fire» written in white on the side – A throwback to a recent campaign against gun crime where police warned criminals if they fired a gun, they’d get it back – with interest.

Security here has been tight since Tuesday afternoon when the Queen arrived on her first state visit since independence. The authorities are taking no chances. Her only real public appearance is at the village of Karu, a 30-minute drive from the capital.

On the road out of town we pass the house that’s been constructed for the new minister of aviation, which has a concrete plane, complete with windows and wings built onto the roof. Approaching the village, makeshift shops of wood and canvas sprawl along the dusty road for miles. There is an interesting range of goods, from leather sofas to bikes and car parts, all housed in what appears to be three sheets of plywood with a cover on top.

Dotted along the way there are shanty towns; small, unregulated and, on first impression, unsafe houses where people have set up home hoping that being so close to the capital means they’ll have a better chance of finding work .

Closer to the place where the Queen is due to visit, hundreds of ordinary Nigerians clamour, hoping for just the briefest glimpse. But Her Majesty is kept well away from the chaos of ordinary life.

She’s ushered in to a courtyard where a «typical Nigeria market» has been created on the set of a radio soap. The traders are real enough and they’ve moved for the day from their usual pitches but each one has been vetted – this is a trip where no risks are to be taken.

«Why can’t we meet the Queen?» asks one small, colourfully dressed woman trying to push herself and her small child through a gap in the gate, only to be pushed back by a soldier, his rifle slung low on his hip.

For Tony Blair and the others there’s no hope of an encounter with the real Africa. In Lagos last week there were small riots as people protested about Nigeria hosting the event. They argued that rather than talk about helping the poor, delegates should use the money spent on the conference to do just that.

In the hot, stifling capital everyone is on their best behaviour. Taxi drivers, restaurant staff and hotel receptionists smile and greet you with a «so nice to have you in the country». It happens so often it sounds rehearsed and insincere, although the Nigerians are famous for their warm welcome and hospitality.

Temporary air-conditioned structures have sprung up all over the place, the biggest one to accommodate hundreds of journalists, most of them from the 54 Commonwealth countries . It’s hard to get an impression of what this place is really like.

At the hotels, power cuts have become more common: the surge of people into the city is putting a strain on the system and it simply can’t cope. A large team from the BBC apparently turned up at their pre-booked hotel only to discover the management had decided to give their rooms away to the first people to show up with hard cash.

Using credit cards here is inadvisable. Although the people seem warm and trustworthy, this is officially the second most corrupt country in the world – topped by Bangladesh.

It’s home to countless internet scams and nearly every travel guide recommends keeping your cards hidden . The headline in This Day newspaper on Friday was «Corruption: Labour Minister sacked». Alhaji Hussaini Akwanga was fired after allegedly being involved in a £250 million national identity card bribe scandal.

The country has a volatile past. Six successful coups, four more attempted since independence in 1960. Nigeria’s President Olusegun Obasanjo was himself one of those who seized power. But that was a while ago; now he’s the man who completed the first civilian-to-civilian government transfer in the country’s history.

His own election was surrounded by allegations of irregularities, a view backed by international observers – a charge that has led to the expulsion of Zimbabwe and Robert Mugabe. A senior British diplomat based here tells me: «When there was an opportunity to cheat or intimidate, they did it. Only all sides did it here.»

Nigeria will of course enjoy its moment, but the beggars will still be back by Tuesday.

Alan Fisher is GMTV’s chief correspondent