A Nomad's Diary

NIGERIAN CURIOSITY: NIGERIAN PROCLAMATION ON BBC

2007-05-30T00:48:00.000-07:00

NIGERIAN CURIOSITY: NIGERIAN PROCLAMATION ON BBC

Yeah!!!! I got the link thingy right this time (as per my previous post)

The Nigerian Proclamation

2007-05-29T15:44:00.000-07:00

Wow, "nigeriancuriosity.blogspot.com" started a fire that has spread beyond the naija blogosphere, fanning the flames is our very own BBC, see http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/6702287.stm Seems I wasn't too far off the mark as per our voices being the other side of Nigeria (see previous post) excerpted below

"Hopefully, we shall overcome; by continuing to blog and showing the other side of Nigeria, so often unseen due to the scammers...WHATEVER YOU DO, please do not disappear fellow NAIJABLOGGERS, your country needs you...your blog may seem like it's all about you but someday, who knows, you may have left an imprint on the sands of time..."

As per moi, I'll be watching Yar'Adua with keen interest and believing in Nigeria!

PS, cant seem to get around the link thingy, shame...

Away, longer than I thought

2007-05-28T05:27:00.000-07:00

To say it's been a hot minute would be an understatement. First, I had some technical problems with my blog and then I had personal problems. I felt so overwhelmed because they were things I had no control over, and I hate being in that position. Suffice to say, I've put things in perspective and I'm moving on...nothing better than putting your troubles beside those others are going through, to really appreciate, life isn't so bad.

I know, I'm talking in 'parables', so sorry I can't be more specific.

I've been blogsurfing and I'm getting a bit disoriented from, bloggers taking a break, to those biting the dust, comment moderation, and blogs open only to invite; AND the dreaded monster in our midst... the evil anonymous commenter... the one who slithers, silent like the proverbial serpent to rob us of our innocence; oh to have those days back again; when the naijablogosphere was virginal...bloggers tripping over themselves to be courteous, disagreeing without being disagreeable, the level of maturity, admirable...only to come to this.

Hopefully, we shall overcome; by continuing to blog and showing the other side of Nigeria, so often unseen due to the scammers...WHATEVER YOU DO, please do not disappear fellow NAIJABLOGGERS, your country needs you...your blog may seem like it's all about you but someday, who knows, you may have left an imprint on the sands of time...

hiatus

2007-03-06T02:27:00.001-08:00

Will be taking a two week break. See ya

How not to keep your man

2007-02-24T03:20:00.000-08:00

I just read a post dated Wednesday, February 21,2007 in http://anijawife.blogspot.com and left the following comment.

The heart of the King is in God's hands..He turns it where he wants it to go. Contrast it with, Choose you this day whom you'd serve; all are paraphrases from the Bible.

Inasmuch as God has tuned His ear to your friend's prayers, remember her husband has free will which is his God given right and he is exercising it. God is not a magician people. Forget home videos where it's like 'abracadabra' and the man starts, like a zombie, caring for his wife and family. This is real life! He is having the time of his life while your friend's youth as time goes on is disappearing. Her breasts can only go further south and he'll always find other pretty young things to cheer him up while your friend wallows in self pity. There is nothing romantic about a whining, 'trying to make me feel guilty' wife. Tell her to strip before a mirror. What will she see at her age. A beautiful firm body, enough to mesmerise her man, something to blow his brains out when they make love and sure to keep him running home for more. If he cant appreciate what he's got now, who is to say he'll stay the whole hog with her (until death do us part). She hasn't even begun to have kids. I'm so angry.

Add this to the mix, there's HIV out there. Why do we as naija women refuse to demand faithfulness from our men. I get really sick because it's a disease we are all infected with from childhood. I'll tell you a story of my cousin. He had so many affairs he stopped hiding them from his wife. She complained and finally spoke to my auntie (his mum) about it. Come and see drama, my aunt warned her that did she (his wife) think his pe--s was made for only her, that her son was an only child and his wife should not expect to be able to give her the number of grandchildren she deserves. Hmmmm. Fast forward a few years. Husband and wife are both dead. Yup, full blown Aids and my auntie is left to pick up the pieces of looking after the small grand children, four of them.

I know we are competitive in naija. It's like coming last when all your friends are married and you are not. Your friend probably cant fanthom rocking the boat so her marriage dosent end. I suggest she does, it might make him respect her and change his behaviour leading to a healthier marriage. She should not be afraid of being alone if it comes to that, I'm sure my cousin's wife would have loved to be alive now to raise her kids as she always dreamt.

A long time ago...

2007-02-19T02:42:00.000-08:00

The title reminds me of the beginning of Star Wars, it continues....in a galaxy far, far away. It was indeed a long time ago and I was all of 17years old. (Two decades ago!)

My best friend Gina had this huge crush on this hunk of a guy who was an amazing basketballer. Imagine how thrilled she was when he asked her out on a date! In those good old days, we went out with chaperones and I was conscripted. He came to pick us up, not alone but with a friend of his who was not bad looking (our main focus then..)

We had dinner and went for a party and danced and danced and danced. I had such a good time; his friend, John and I connected so well, we talked and I felt like I had known him for ages.

Time to drop us off at school and then the kiss. I can't remember what we talked about but I remember every detail of the kiss. Maybe it's because I was so young and he was the second person I ever kissed but...

I'm on my way back from visiting Naija for christmas and at the airport, someone calls my name; my maiden name. I felt a bit disoriented, hadn't heard that name in over a decade. He then introduces himself, I'm a bit taken aback because I didnt remember him as being so tall. As I looked into his face all I could remember was the kiss. I felt a wave of nostalgia. We made small talk and I made my escape.

I remember him wanting to be my boyfriend. He would call the house, ask for my brother who in turn would pass the phone to me if there was the all clear (no popsie/momsie), for a price of course. We'd talk and talk. I have no clue what we talked about.

As I walked away at the airport, I wondered if he remembered...

Teenage gun crime

2007-02-16T02:06:00.000-08:00

It's been in the media, the news that in 12 days, we've had 3 teenagers killed by most likely their peers at point blank range, 2 of them, in their homes.

Most of the talking heads on TV and the opinion pieces seem to suggest there is a correlation between, drugs, organised crime and the relative accessibility of guns; added to the mix, the false bravado that comes from mimicking the gangster rap culture. This instant potpourri sure to implode is a tide difficult to stem because there's a lack of will, on the part of society and the government.

Meanwhile, who drew the line in the sand, saying here and no further regarding drugs and culpability for the attendant criminality? Who decided that we'll go for the traffickers, the varied and many conduits, but ignore the source and the eventual user? I know our society is rooted on 'Individualism' which I subscribe to on a lot of issues but isn’t it about time the reporter who probably just got a high from its use knows that he is invariably linked with the gun crime society is trying to tackle. I do not believe David Cameron should be hounded for what he did at fifteen but isn’t it important for people to realise that whenever they indulge in drugs, they enable the system they claim to abhor.

(I know it is a crime to use drugs but it's obvious the police does not apply its resources to tackle users)

Vultures = 419

2007-02-15T04:03:00.000-08:00

I watched newsnight on BBC yesterday and the phenomenon of vultures fascinated me to no end, see link:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/6362783.stm

Why are Nigerians the arch stereotypes for all things fraudulent. Not to refute the fact that 419ers are inherently wrong but what's with the glee people assume in condescending to regular Naija folk. How come the world is quick to agree that 'one bad apple dont spoil a whole bunch' when it comes to others and a different set of rules are applied when it comes to Nigerians? My two cents...

Valentines day

2007-02-14T09:35:00.000-08:00

Got some sexy lingerie amongst other things for vals day but wont be rocking them as my Homeboy's out of town...aaawww. For those of you out there, dont forget to get your freak on for the one who matters most to you! breathe......

I dey kanmpe

2007-02-07T09:15:00.000-08:00

Wo, I hit rock bottom only to surface and find out I'm still alive? or am I not. I go survive.

Glad to be back

2007-01-12T22:55:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone, I'm back to the UK after a restful visit to naija.

With all the chaos why was it restful? Try being in the UK with three children, no nanny, no husband, no housekeeper, attending full time school and working part-time! Going home was a relief. That is an understatement; I was ecstatic to be home. My children have already started asking me when we can go visit again.

Do they notice the bad roads, the incessant power cuts, the dirt etc? I bet they do, but they also saw a side of naija that they've fallen in love with; fussy aunties, new foods, cousins all around them to play football with or chase after chickens and goats with! Grandparents that love them and parents that have more time for them as we are freed from a lot of housework.

I've always been of the belief that my children will feel most at home in naija, so I've constantly made an effort to speak positively about naija with them. They talk proudly of naija...if only they know the way Nigeria is perceived ...sigh. They probably do though, from hearing us complain. My intention though is not to whitewash what Nigeria is. Far from that. I've seen enough naija children in the Diaspora speak disdainfully of Nigeria..which is ok to do, as long it is balanced with what makes one yearn to create or be part of change for the better. That yearning can only come when one assumes ownership. I do not want my kids to grow up unaware of the treasure they have. It's coated with all sorts of terrible things that have made it lose its lure and luster but who knows, one day it may shine again; if we polish off, nay, chip of bit by bit the dross.

It's also good to be home here in England. It's time to catch up with our friends and soak up the culture and history of Britain. I'm enjoying the best of both worlds....now if only I can find that organizer I put away before we left. Clockwork nomad. Every thing has to be precise or else appointments will not be kept, the children will get to school late or play dates will not be set up....Pray for me people. It is well.

Lagos Pipeline

2006-12-26T22:29:00.000-08:00

Another pipeline explosion and scores dead. The pain of fathers, mothers, children, lost in such painful circumstances is heart wrenching. In a country so desperately poor, people choose to risk life and limb, some for about five thousand naira (about 20 pounds).

Just a few days before this explosion, a young friend I know gushed about a distant relative of theirs who had 'made it big' siphoning fuel from deliberately broken pipelines. She seemed quite pleased for him and added a comment alluding to the fact that, while Baba and his cohorts steal in Abuja, at least the said relative was getting his share of the national cake. I had to point out the irony of it all to her by letting her see there was nothing to celebrate from stealing. Putting it in such stark terms made her quite uncomfortable and I was glad. It's sad that the desperate poverty that surrounds us lead people to such activities. Celebrating illegal activities (419 inclusive) is so wrong and until we get back to who we were a few generations ago, abhorring stealing and esteeming not thieves, but those whose moral compass has remained steady, we contribute to a problem so ingrained, I despair for us as a country.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-25T23:22:00.000-08:00

What a welcome to Naija, Port Harcourt to be specific. First a bomb goes off on some Shell Residential club car park and I hear there's been another since then. Then on the national front, Yar'adua and Mr Goodluck have been selected to hold the reins; woe is me. All of a sudden my sense of optimism dims and I have to face the stark reality that it will be business as usual and it will take more than mere dreams to tackle the problem of Naija. Oh.

But I have course to smile. When I had my son, my 18yr old cousin came to stay with me to help look after him. From day one, I had to work on her self confidence regarding education because she had stopped at primary 5. Well, six years later, she's not only passed JAMB, she's has now been admitted to University. I'd like to pat myself on the back, but all the kudos goes to her. She started from JSS2 and we had to get private tutoring to help her along. She fell in love with Math when another cousin came for a visit during the holidays. We had already been abroad a few years while she continued schooling in Nigeria when she called me and said she wanted to sit for her WAEC in SS2. She did and passed! She's an inspiration and I'm glad I told myself as a little girl that no-one who comes to help me out in my home would be given anything in half measures. I'm glad I didn't treat her as just another maid (a common Naija problem) but loved her as a sister.

I had a most wonderful Christmas day surrounded by my beautiful sisters in law, a loving mother in law and a father in law who takes away some of the pain of not having a dad (We lost him a few years ago). All the drama of having so much family around and screeching cousins and having to serve as judge and jury every few minutes to the little ones was well worth the trip. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I'll do the other leg of the reunions with a visit to my own family on new year's day. Can't wait!

May kindness surround you in the coming year.

Yo! home to Naija

2006-12-15T04:01:00.000-08:00

I'm off to Naija and really looking forward to the trip. I'll try to post from time to time, as internet connection permits.

A Closed Mind

2006-12-08T07:34:00.000-08:00

I was having a chat with a friend the other day. We mentioned the subject of the violence in Iraq and I expressed my dismay at the way the Sunni's and the Shiites were inflicting terrible casualty on one another. Her answer left me speechless. She said most people who were knowledgeable on the subject of Islam know that the Shiites don't really worship God. She's Muslim. That she put it so matter of factly left me quite cold. I know I should have pursued the conversation further but I'm usually careful not to discuss religion.

The simplicity of her point of view also made me reflect on my own position on issues of faith. Do I also, as a Christian, start from the foundation of the rightness of my religion? I would hope not. Well maybe I do but to the point that I'd justify and understand the death of others who don't share my faith? I most certainly do not. Maybe it's Christianiy, I know the choice belongs to everyone, to believe or not believe.

When we look at conflicts in different parts of the world, viewing issues through the prism of a closed mind creates a block to understanding and the possibility of harmonious relations. As for me, her attitude has made me decide to be even more tolerant of others. Hindu's, Bhuddhists, Atheists, Muslims etc. The key to this is choice. Just because you were born or have gone through a period of revelation resulting on your current faith does not mean you should look from a position of arrogance at others. And yes, I know we'll probably continue the conversation one day. And yes, I know I'm classed as unbelieving...

Caveat: Not all Muslims think like this and yes some Christians can be as bad

The Aliens Have Landed

2006-11-28T10:11:00.000-08:00

Here's an extract from a poem written by my six year old son, Nicholas. You can tell he'll be a writer someday.

THE ALIENS HAVE LANDED

It's distressing but they are here
They piloted their flying saucer
Through our atmosphere
They landed like a meteore
Engulfed in smoke and flame
And out they came
Immersed in slime
And bubbled as they came

Their hands are greasy tentacles
Their heads are weird machines
Their bodies look like cauliflower

And smell like dead sardines

2006-11-15T08:44:00.000-08:00

I haven’t been away, changed my mind about blogging or suffered writer’s block. I have just been overwhelmed with life’s many contradictions; joy, sorrow, and all the myriad emotions that consume one on this journey.

Dafur

First my cousin was posted to Darfur which brought home the fear, the insecurities and our inadequacies as a people (Africa) in facing headlong the cancer (racial/ethnic cleansing) that’s in our midst. His stories from the front made my heart break for the people caught up in the conflict. Because it is not at the fore of media attention, most people are not aware of the extent of the genocide. Then the hypocrisy; the AU in choosing to align with the Arab governments (to checkmate the west) willingly turns a blind eye. Unfortunately, history is replete with tales of the same goings on in large parts of Africa. If there’s rape and anarchy in your neighbor’s house and you choose not to intervene, one day the trouble shall become yours. We are holding live embers of charcoal in our belly and to make sure it does not erupt into a fire, we must speak up. I feel ashamed that when marches were held recently respecting Darfur, I was not present, where were you?

ADC

The plane crash in Nigeria. In the midst of the sorrow and the anger directed at the Nigerian government, I felt a sense of shame. You know the proverb that when you point your fore finger at someone, the remaining fingers point at you. We carry a weight of responsibility. When the railway system fell apart, we didn’t worry too much, after all we never took the trains. When the accidents and the armed robbery reached alarming heights on the road transport system, we took to the skies; its all back to haunt us. It’s like a tiger, chasing after its tail. There’s no escaping the fact that the solution lies with us as a people. Ever heard of the saying ‘Never complain about what you allow’ or ‘you choose how you want to be treated’.

And I digress.

100 percent English

I am sorry I haven’t learnt to work out links et al but I watched a program on ITV on Monday on the above subject. It was quite illuminating. A group of white people, selected (at random?) who knew in their hearts that they were English through and through were asked to give DNA samples to test their racial composition. One of them said that for one to be English, ones family should be able to trace their ancestry up to a thousand generations in England. The interesting bit was that although they were all positively European,they were not of pure nordic ancestry. Instead they were a mix of south Asia (India etc), middle eastern (Saudi Arabia anyone) North European (most of them seemed to want to have this alone ascribed to them) and I’ve forgotten the last group of Europeans but suffice to say all of them were (not pleasantly) surprised. One of them was eight percent sub Saharan African! The fun bit was how, when those who seemed mildly racist (is there such a thing?) reacted when confronted with the results that they were not purely Nordic. One of them after seemingly accepting the report we were told later threatened to sue the program. Another who had earlier said that a black player for England should never be considered English (even his subsequent generations) back tracked and said maybe he should.

To be fair to the participants, it had me wondering; in an earlier post, I had mentioned I can trace my ancestry to the twelfth generation. With hindsight, what if one of the grand mothers had, in ‘naijaspeak’, played an away match? After all dey no dey write am for person forehead. Consider this, if the same test is carried out on your DNA sample what tales would it tell?

Brown Sugar

2006-10-12T10:58:00.000-07:00

My friend in Mumbai, (she’s also Nigerian) sent her Indian driver to buy her some brown sugar (she had just returned from shopping for groceries and realized she forgot to buy some).

Pradeep, looking very uncomfortable said,

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I don’t know where to get brown sugar from”.

“Just go to ‘____’ (name of neighborhood shop), and get me some”

“Noooo Ma’am, they don’t have brown sugar there, they don’t sell brown sugar”.

Feeling quite irritated knowing she had bought some from the shop in the past, she insisted he should go and get some immediately since she wanted to use it.

“Em, Ma’am, I am very, very sure they wont have brown sugar, do you really need some?” He said peering closely at my friend’s face as if studying her expression.

“See me see wahala and this man o, I send you on an errand and you are asking ‘are you sure?’ You get luck say no be naija I dey, abeg go and get the sugar joo”. Of course Pradeep understood Pidgin English having been around my friend for about a year.

I was particularly curious since he was normally quite helpful and liked to show off as he was from, maybe, a good caste?

“Pradeep”, I entered the conversation, “just go and if you don’t find it in ‘___’ go to other shops and ask”.

“Okay, okay” he said leaving, very reluctantly.

My friend and I were surprised when he came back about thirty minutes later and said that they didn’t have it in the said shop and no-one else around had any. He then said something very weird, “Em, Ma’am, are you testing me?” See me see Indian wahala, we were both very curious now.

Apparently, Brown Sugar is the name of some hard drug; don’t know which and the poor man, having been with her for a while knew there was no such thing going on with my friend. Ha ha ha, it would have been a good mind your language episode! Je pense que oui?!

Reminiscing

2006-10-12T08:36:00.000-07:00

Reminiscing,
Over days long gone
The memories, bittersweet
Like an invisible hand
Tugging at the strings of your heart
A harp
The notes linger
Sending ripples of nostalgia

Is it a face, a smile or a song?
Or that feeling of something missing
Something there
And yet
Not

When tomorrow looms
Large and mysterious
The past seems to draw you into its bosom
Like a mother
Achingly familiar
But the umbilical cord is gone
A separation forever

For a moment
The pain is so real
You are transported
Hurtling
Back in time

No
Tomorrow can’t be as good
Nothing can compare
To that sweet past

Scripta Manet

2006-10-08T06:01:00.000-07:00

This is the Latin for 'written things remain'. How does one strike the balance between the need to inscribe ones thoughts as though cast in stone, and the reality of it never going away? Enjoying the anonymity one has on the web can fool one into thinking that when possible, one can dissociate oneself for the writing. Not so. In today's technologically advanced world, if the need arises, your words on your blog can become as attached to you as liability on the negligent party in a tortuous proceeding.

You must cloak yourself with the awareness that this is George Orwell's fictional world in '1984', Big Brother 'watcheth' or can and will if need be!

But the phrase also bodes well for posterity. Civilisations, maybe hundreds of generations from now, have a wealth of documentary evidence to give them an insight into our world. More than we have of the past. Which is why, each one of us in our diverse ways, hold the key to how our time will be viewed. Slowly and surely, there is an awakening for one to leave an imprint, no matter the degree of indelibility. Africa is catching on. The import of the need, to have the tools of Communication in the hands of the masses, has never been stronger. Baby steps in terms of the number of bloggers from Africa but a giant leap in terms of its impact on the long run.

In America, the sitting president owes much of his success in the last election to bloggers. The buzz on the internet regarding the Nigerian President's bid for the third term enabled a strong wall to be erected against it. Much of the success of blogging as a tool for revolution depends on education. The degree of influence one has over another, in persuading them into your line of thought, rises or falls, more often than not, on the knowledge you have, in the particular field of reference. When we think of charitable ways of giving back to our societies, whether in the west or back in Africa, the importance of education should not be underestimated.

My Heritage

2006-10-07T02:29:00.000-07:00

I come from a tribe in Nigeria that takes its oral history very seriously, almost cultic. The holders of the ancient traditions actually belong to the cult that has preserved our ancestral lineage; the names of our forefathers, the stories that surround each one and the context in which they performed acts that made them worthy of note or not as the case may be. I can tell my ancestry to the twelfth generation. Twelve 'grandfathers' that is. I can, of my 'grandmothers', but the stories get more complex so I stop at the fifth.

I was probably about four and this is indelible in my minds eye, when I noticed that whenever I greeted my mother as good kids are wont to, in naija, she would respond and add a greeting that I did not understand. It sounded like the word, glass, in our dialect and so I asked her why she would call me 'glass'. She laughed and explained that, in our culture, each clan? had a special name used to greet them. She had a different one and she told me hers.

Growing up, we were never sat down and told of this important part of our history but it kept cropping up in conversations and ceremonies were held to remember it; the 'war of horses'. My younger brother who loves history asked our grandfather and he explained what happened, which forefather's time and why they had to move en-mass a few hundred years ago to where we now call home. And so each clan would hold extensive ceremonies to remember and would subsequently have added to their special greetings, something in the line of 'warrior, in the war of horses'.

I can imagine a whole tribe, weary of war, packing their lives and heading away from danger. This was a conscious and carefully planned decision because; each clan had a 'totem' to identify them and to help with administration wherever they would subsequently settle. I intend to write their story one day, maybe in book form.

When I look at wars around the world and other goings-on, especially currently in the Sudan, I look at the wonder of what is the European Union and can't help but appreciate their success in ensuring no wars have been fought in Western Europe in over fifty years. Because of leaders with foresight and vision, a forum was created that has led to one of the supranational wonders of our time. We can bicker about all that's not right or whether the UK should be a part of it or not, but to rest easy in our beds at night and not have to face the chaos of war; Priceless.

2006-10-05T06:06:00.000-07:00

I am in Jakarta. I love the city. Chaotic traffic, kind of like Lagos, with all the selling going on at traffic jams, road side food sellers, you see the odd man in a sarong style wrapper( although on Fridays, they are out in the hundreds) and lovely ladies going along minding their business. There's even 'okada' (motorbike public transport system),the only difference here is that the ladies cling to the biker! I can imagine an okada man in naija going 'oh to be a Jakartan'! Don't be fooled by the 'chaos', this is a thriving tourist economy so there are about twenty two five star hotels resplendent their beauty and welcoming in their south east Asian courtesy.

I'm off to church with my family and being the 'multitasker' that I am, I decide to start cooking the lunch as we were to leave for church at 8.20am. I turn of the beef I'm boiling at 8.10am and my husband decides to change his shirt. Why waste the next fifteen minutes I know it will take when the meat could get a little bit softer? So I turn it on and increase the heat a little while I play the role of mummy soothing a now forgotten need that was of utmost importance then.

In church, feeling very pretty and much loved by God, I enjoy the service and dance and sing my appreciation. After church, 'should we go home', hubby wants to know, but I want to visit my friend, so we pile into the car, buy some MacDonalds lunch we know her children will love and invade her house.

I have such a lovely time coz she has some other girl friends visiting; hubby leaves to sort some things out in another part of town. In the middle of a very riveting gist I was giving ( I was really feeling like a star) I said something about beef and paused, mid sentence. My friends were just watching while I stood transfixed. I was frozen, my heart literally with the knowing that I had no recollection of turning off the heat on the then important but quickly abandoned lunch. Ye paa!

In another man's land. Five bedroom, marble infested, expensive furniture, all not mine, crisp and toast because of moi! I could not pray. My legs turned to jelly, while my friends tried to soothe me. Call your neighbours, call your husband etc.

In the end, my husband got there first, twenty minutes later; this was way after four pm. The pot had been on fire and the lid had sealed. The smoke was everywhere, the fire alarm got tired I'm sure but the only thing we lost that day was the pot and clean air? for the next couple of days. !!!!

The relief and my joy cannot be explained. That night, I went to bed and if you were a child raised in naija and ever got a spanking or ever cried your heart out for a long period of time, then you'll understand this bit. I slept like a child who having cried and cried sleeps like a log with its breathing punctuated by heaving and sighing.

Now, I am ever so careful.

(The story in this post happened four years ago)

Independence Day

2006-10-01T06:00:00.000-07:00

Oh, to be a child again. One of my early memories of our great country's independence day was the cloak of great anticipation that surrounded it. As primary schoolers, we'd have practiced marching and dancing to compete on that day for prizes. I think the anticipation was overrated but we weren't particularly concerned about that. We just wanted to make the team. It was also a day of eating 'ice-cream' buying puff-puff, ground-nuts and other what nots that our mum would otherwise not let us. We spent too long in the field with all the ceremonies that I guess all the eating helped pass the time.

And then the mad chaos of finding our siblings and getting home.

Fast forward to adulthood and the knowing that things aren't as they should be, cloud one's emotions. But in spite of it all, home (Nigeria) is where my memories were birthed and there are a lot of good ones. More good than bad and in that I am one of the blessed ones.

My List of the good that's Naija

1. Village life. Maybe because we spent only a few days at a time when visiting, I felt surrounded by kindness especially in my mum's village where she comes from a family of 'comedians'. No, not literally, but they had this way of finding humour in life. There was good natured yabis and a lot of laughter. Was there plenty in terms of material things? Certainly not, but someone somewhere in their heritage most have bequeathed this gift to them and I'm glad I'm a part of it.

2. Rags to Riches. Yeah right, I wish the riches part could fill my pocket, but seriously, my parents are like millions of Nigerians who a couple of generations ago were not educated and were agrarian of the very simple kind. Fortune smiled on my family in the person of a kindly catholic priest (this seems to be the story of many in Africa; of 'angelic' missionaries). He rode on his bicycle, miles, we were told to speak to my grandfather, to allow his firstborn to continue on after primary school because he believed he was gifted. Somehow with sheer perseverence, tons of will power and hard work ( of course baptised with school fees from the odd aunty here and a long forgotten cousin there) my father studied in England and enjoyed a lucrative legal career until his death.

Once the wand of education touched my family, there was no looking back and who knows that class in Nigeria can be tied to 'whether you go school or you be person wey no go school'.

3. Food to die for. From the North to the South, we have dishes which we prepare from ingredients mostly fresh and free from additives. The trouble our mothers go through can only be appreciated when one comes to live abroad.

4. Rites of passage. Marriages, the effizie, births, naming ceremonies, birthdays some funerals; There's always an excuse to party.

5. Unique clothing. Our decking, no get pair. In fact, as they say in Port Harcourt, e no get part two.

6. Communal living. There is still some sense of community with most of us knowing and interacting with some cousins, aunties, uncles and grand parents. It's not always good but where in the world is it a cup of tea? There's always a listening ear - careful, make dem no carry your tory waka.

There's a lot more I appreciate about naija but I'll stop here. As for Naija: e go better. May we all, strong in our various ways, gird our loins. Tara

The Genesis

2006-09-30T10:06:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone,

This is my first post and I'm so excited. I have been a 'blog reading' addict for over a year and have just had the courage to take the plunge. First, a little bit about the name of my blog. In Nigeria where I'm originally from, the word 'been to' is used to describe a person who has travelled abroad. My original choice for a name though was 'the Nomad'. Seeing that it was already taken, I had to look for another 'something' that'd describe my globe trotting ways.

Here's hoping that I update regularly and don't end up being one of the lost dreams that litter the landscape of the world of blogging.