Counting down. She's my profile pic on my whatsapp.....Hehehe. very cute right! :)
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Yes. Amen!
Tera Carissa Hodges (@teracarissa) tweeted at 9:14 AM on Fri, May 03, 2013: You cannot take a person's issues with you personally. (https://twitter.com/teracarissa/status/330309388579528705) Get the official Twitter app at https://twitter.com/download
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
The Search For Fura
When I got to Abuja, I
was amazed at the beauty and organization that I saw there. I wondered
if I was still in Nigeria. Imagine, tarred roads, traffic lights that
work, authority figures that actually did their work and loved what they
did. I wondered at the reason that we could not have such organization
in other parts of the nation. Of course, some Nigerians are liable to
say that the reason Abuja is well maintained is because government
officials live there, that’s the capital of the nation and compared to
other parts of the country, Abuja has quite a low population of people.
These might be valid points but we all want better.
I was in awe at the constant electricity in Abuja. In Abuja, PHCN, understands that they are there to do a job and they make sure the job is done well. For the first time, in many days, I eventually slept. Beyond, doing the visiting and eating rounds which was on my schedule. I knew that I had to visit one of the markets in Abuja.
Markets often showcase the vibe of the community. Its colorful arrays of products, its people with their different intonations and languages, also how, and when and what is sold in the market often shows what the community deems as important. I knew I was going to visit the market in Abuja during my stay. But, the main reason for the journey to the market was one borne out of long throat, also known as greed. I was going to get some Fura. Yes, I’ve been waiting for many years to have a taste of such milky goodness. For non Nigerians who are curious, Fura is the local unprocessed yogurt.
So, one bright day, my aunt and I went on a mission to get my Fura. We got into Wuse market and again, I fell in love with Abuja. Wuse is extremely organized and extremely colorful. The merchants spoke in normal voices as they pitched their reasons on why you should purchase their items. But, we weren’t there for the items, we were there for the Fura.
We finally found the place where the product was being sold. It was a conclave in which Fulani women sold items. We asked for Fura, and this very beautiful woman, put some into a plastic bottle, mixed in the nunu (millet) and sold it to us. We also purchased some Maishanu. Maishanu and Fura are by products from cow milk. Maishanu can be used in cooking or as a beauty product.
When I tasted the Fura, it was so great. You know when you’ve waited for so long to taste something and you eventually taste it, you feel that high of accomplishment and then that glow of happiness. I drank that Fura like there was no tomorrow. The following day, I had a sore throat. But, I will be back in Wuse market when I revisit Nigeria.
I was in awe at the constant electricity in Abuja. In Abuja, PHCN, understands that they are there to do a job and they make sure the job is done well. For the first time, in many days, I eventually slept. Beyond, doing the visiting and eating rounds which was on my schedule. I knew that I had to visit one of the markets in Abuja.
Markets often showcase the vibe of the community. Its colorful arrays of products, its people with their different intonations and languages, also how, and when and what is sold in the market often shows what the community deems as important. I knew I was going to visit the market in Abuja during my stay. But, the main reason for the journey to the market was one borne out of long throat, also known as greed. I was going to get some Fura. Yes, I’ve been waiting for many years to have a taste of such milky goodness. For non Nigerians who are curious, Fura is the local unprocessed yogurt.
So, one bright day, my aunt and I went on a mission to get my Fura. We got into Wuse market and again, I fell in love with Abuja. Wuse is extremely organized and extremely colorful. The merchants spoke in normal voices as they pitched their reasons on why you should purchase their items. But, we weren’t there for the items, we were there for the Fura.
We finally found the place where the product was being sold. It was a conclave in which Fulani women sold items. We asked for Fura, and this very beautiful woman, put some into a plastic bottle, mixed in the nunu (millet) and sold it to us. We also purchased some Maishanu. Maishanu and Fura are by products from cow milk. Maishanu can be used in cooking or as a beauty product.
When I tasted the Fura, it was so great. You know when you’ve waited for so long to taste something and you eventually taste it, you feel that high of accomplishment and then that glow of happiness. I drank that Fura like there was no tomorrow. The following day, I had a sore throat. But, I will be back in Wuse market when I revisit Nigeria.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Adventures In Nigeria
The Road Trip
I am quite open about coming from the South Eastern part of Nigeria and I am a Lagosian. Maybe, that could account for my extremely high expectations from Lagos state and of course, the overwhelming sense of disappointment when my expectations weren’t met. Now, being from the South Eastern part of Nigeria, growing up and going to the village during the holidays was an adventure not to be missed. My siblings and I went out of our way to ensure that we were ready for our traveling adventure. Then we will share responsibilities, poll our resources for candies, cookies and soft drinks, get music together and books that we will read for the 7 - 10 hours road trip to the village. I loved it. Maybe, that’s where my love for road trips actually stems from. I associate road trips to simpler times and maybe happier times.
I knew that I had to go to the North this time around since last year was a whirlwind of activities and events and I was unable to get out of the SouthWest. Now, the question in my home became how do I get there since I have become so ‘oyiboed’ that going on a road trip would be ‘so tiring’?
I knew that I didn’t want to fly, I was just too scared of all the plane crash stories coming from this nation. I’ve lost family members and family friends in Nigerian plane crashes and I wasn’t taking that risk. Moreover, this was an opportunity to relive my youth and see parts of Nigeria in the process.
I told my parents that I wanted to go by road. They were in shock particularly since the trip is approximately twelve hours from Lagos to Abuja. Of course, with the roads being the way it is, they had fears that I will be so tired that I will get sick again. But, I managed to convince them.
I used one of the Sienna vans that ply the Lagos - Abuja route...I won’t give the name. It was definitely an adventure being in a vehicle with people from all works of life, listening to their jokes, their stories and eventually the fight that occurred. Now, this is the point that it gets interesting. Unlike using the big buses which are cheaper and most travelers have lower expectations, many who use the sienna vans or smaller vehicles have higher expectations because they are paying a lot more. They have expectations of courteous drivers, working airconditioners and of course some form of entertainment. They did try with the entertainment and the driver just basically ignored us but then when the air conditioner stopped working and that’s when the trip took on an edge.
One Oga, (obviously a big man) from his gra gra conversation on the phone, got so peeved that he decided to take it out on the driver. This was the conversation that ensued:
Oga sir: why is this place so hot? why is the air conditioner not on?
Mr driver: (ignores commotion and increases the volume of his Oliver de Coque music).
Oga sir: what kind of nonsense is this...can’t this guy feel the heat?
Mr driver: (starts to whistle)
Oga sir: (shouting)Look at this stupid driver..what kind of stupidity is this? Can’t you feel the heat? Stupid idiot.
Mr. driver: (turns down his Oliver De Coque) who is stupid? ehn who is stupid? You will see who is stupid?
He then stops the van at a deserted spot and gets out of the vehicle to throw that man out of the van swearing that he wasn’t moving anywhere until Mr. Oga sir gets out.
At that point, I started texting my mother furiously, wondering what will happen to me since I obviously do not know this place or how to get out of this place and why the H*** are we near the freaking bush? Articles featuring ritualists were running furiously through my mind.
At that point everyone had started begging the driver, biko , nwa bom boy, nwa, and all the sweet Igbo names they had at their disposal. In retrospect, I should have gotten a pad and written all those names down, you never know when those words could come in handy *winkies*. One of the women asked me to touch the driver in hopes that this will calm him down. Mba!! What of if that touch led to a slap? After, a sexy ,Igbo woman had given him the sweetest Igbo name, I think involving a lion or something, he decided that he won’t throw this man into the forest and goes back to drive the vehicle.
Mr. Oga sir was quiet for the rest of the journey.
After that adventure, I really thought that was it but there was a woman that just rubbed me the wrong way with her conversation. She was a trader and was out to let everyone know that she had traveled out of the country at one time in her life which was to China. I was talking to this guy who was out to have a good time in Abuja and for some reason the guy decided to ask Ms. ‘one chance travel to China’ the Igbo marriage question that I wish most people will leave alone. This question was why is it that many Igbo women are single? At that point, I just started groaning because I knew this woman wasn’t going to give any intelligent answer. Cringing in my seat, I was just waiting for her response and I wasn’t disappointed.
Ms. One Chance Travel To China: Ahhhh, such a good question from such an intelligent young man. You see our people are not like your people o. I know you people have a lot of older women getting married but it isn’t like that in our side.
Pamela cringing further into her seat.
Ms. One Chance Travel To China: Don’t mind those stupid women, they are waiting for Obasanjo to come and marry them. Stupid Women.
Pamela (internally) : Tufiakwa, You can keep Obasanjo.
Mr. Young Inquisitor: really, they are really waiting for Obasanjo? Imagine?
Ms. One Chance Travel To China: Don’t mind them. ehhhhhn...(I am sure if she had a chewing stick, she would have chewed it and spat out), that’s how they will be there wasting their time and then when they get to the age of 35 they will start desperately searching. Who will marry them ehn? Old cargoes.
The way Ms One Chance Travel To China said Old Cargo, everyone knew that this was personal. Maybe one had attempted taking one of her precious sons. Oh, did I forget, we had to hear about the exploits of all her wonderful sons.
Okay, remember, Pamela is not 35 but when I get to 35, Pamela will automatically stop visiting Nigeria because the stress opoju for poor Igbo women there. Also, you have to remember that, I am completely against people putting labels, barriers and establishing double standards that do not help women be the best they can be. Also, I am anti women being pushed into relationships and marriages till they are ready. So obviously, at this point, I was screaming and punching the air internally. Since, I could not do anything rolling my eyes had to suffice.
Mr. Inquisitor: really, are you saying that no one will marry these women?
Ms. One Chance Travel To China: ahh, they might get suitors but let me tell you, when men go to the village to tell them that they want to marry these women, the elders will advice these suitors to go and find a nice sweet young woman even if she sells recharge cards.
*Pamela Puking*
Fortunately, we got to her stop, so I didn’t get a chance to give her a long speech as to why many women are finding themselves married to horrible men and in horrible, disgusting relationships. God saved her.
After she left, the rest of the journey was smooth sailing. Of course, that journey ended with my exchanging numbers with Mr. Inquisitor who is a lawyer and no, he isn't the reason that my heart is in Abuja.
There were other memorable conversations that took place in the vehicle but I won't go into all that today.
I got into Abuja at about 8.30 pm. The trip took 13 hours and we passed through several states including Ogun, Ondo, Oyo, Lokoja etc.
* Let me reiterate, I am Igbo and proudly Igbo at that and this is not to make fun of my ethnic group which I will never do but unfortunately, this trip was made up of some Igbo people behaving badly. At least, it gave me a juicy story to share.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Adventures In Nigeria
Adventures In Nigeria
PHCN = Power Holding Company Of Nigeria, God Is Watching You!
I reside in Long Island which is a part of New York that is almost synonymous with huge trees, huge houses, water and quiet. I’ve often said that if undesirable elements decided to stay out of certain corners of Long Island, it will be a major go to area of New York. I left New York for Nigeria, right after Sandy and the snow storm, which knocked down trees, destroyed homes and left a lot of Long Islanders destitute. I was very thankful that I do not live that close to the waters or I would have been destitute as well. All, I could complain about was the trees that came down and the lack of electricity which meant that I had to use candle light to get myself ready for the visit back home. Despite, all the confusion taking place, they were already working very hard (24 hours) to ensure that we had our lights back before I left the country. Now, that’s service. For those few that have a generator, that was the time that we heard the noisy hum of sounds that we hardly ever hear.
I’m human and when this occurred, I was looking for an opportunity to get out of New York to a calm place where I can get my Zen back. I was excited to go back to Nigeria during all that confusion because I figured that it might be slightly better but was I in for an angry surprise.
When I left Nigeria, many years ago, constant electricity was an issue. In my home, we had a good generator which worked but I hated it because of its noise. When there was no petrol for the generators then we used the lantern. Because of my hatred of darkness, the lack of electricity, the lantern ensured that I was always on top of my work. But, that was many years ago. I expected that certain things would have changed but in the case of PHCN, it actually got worse.
I returned home to no light and the jarring sounds of generators disturbing the night air. That was my welcome to Nigeria surprise after the bumpy ride on the bad roads leading to my home. Now, I am not saying that other African countries have it better since I’ve heard that many actually have it worse but my frustration with Lagos, in particular, was that many have accepted this substandard behavior as normal.
How can one explain that an oil producing nation like Nigeria which is ranked at the top ten of exporters of oil cannot boast of giving its indigenes constant or at least semi constant light? We talk in the billions but yet, the effect cannot be seen in the lives of the average Nigerian. Through out my stay in Lagos state, we had 30 minutes of light which was divided into 15 minutes breaks. The first 15 minutes was in the morning hours when no one was supposed to be home and the remaining 15 minutes was later on in the evening as we stepped in. Like seriously?
Now, I understand that there seems to be a form of silent agreement between PHCN, generator manufacturers (yes, we have our own brand called my generator pass my neighbor's own), generator sellers, candle sellers, kerosine and lantern sellers but where does this leave the average Nigerian who needs electricity to run their business, who takes courses online, who needs to come home to a cool house with cold water, who has taught himself to only buy items for the day because the refrigerator does not work or has been damaged by the pit patter games of PHCN? By the way, unlike the United States, where you can get a refund on items destroyed because of the lack of electricity, that does not exist in Nigeria.
It becomes more ludicrous when you visit a PHCN office to pay a bill and you see that their electricity is generated via a generator. Ironic!!!! For, those like myself, who detest noise with a passion, you can’t decide to have an inverter in a place like Lagos because the electricity needed to get it ready is almost never there.
Now, people have said that electricity distribution is a class issue. They say that those who live in areas like Lekki, Ikoyi, Victoria Island where the upper echelon of society reside do not go through issues like those who live in the mainland. Unfortunately, that’s not really true. They go through the same thing but not as bad as the mainlanders. But, I will have to ask why should electricity distribution be a class issue in a state as wealthy as Lagos state?
One of the statements that I found myself repeating as I saw a lot of things that could give an average diasporan gray hair was that we are the creators of our own hell. We are the ones who have taught ourselves to accept substandard behavior and services as normal. We have learnt the we go manage technique. No, there are things that are manageable and there are things that are completely unacceptable. For those whose inner person fights back at the nonsense that we are being fed, they have learnt to silence that voice with the throbbing sounds of religion which teaches acceptance because there is a better place later. Oh NO!
The other day, I was listening to a radio broadcast on a Nigerian radio station which caters to the diasporan Nigerian community in which they were basically inviting investors to see Nigeria as a viable market to go and invest. I agree,we have what is needed to get investors interested but I wonder will they show the investors the real Lagos and Nigeria where the average Nigerian lives. Maybe the investors will stay in posh places, and their drivers will only take them through areas in which the average Nigerian does not reside or pass by.
Who knows?
PHCN = Power Holding Company Of Nigeria, God Is Watching You!
I reside in Long Island which is a part of New York that is almost synonymous with huge trees, huge houses, water and quiet. I’ve often said that if undesirable elements decided to stay out of certain corners of Long Island, it will be a major go to area of New York. I left New York for Nigeria, right after Sandy and the snow storm, which knocked down trees, destroyed homes and left a lot of Long Islanders destitute. I was very thankful that I do not live that close to the waters or I would have been destitute as well. All, I could complain about was the trees that came down and the lack of electricity which meant that I had to use candle light to get myself ready for the visit back home. Despite, all the confusion taking place, they were already working very hard (24 hours) to ensure that we had our lights back before I left the country. Now, that’s service. For those few that have a generator, that was the time that we heard the noisy hum of sounds that we hardly ever hear.
I’m human and when this occurred, I was looking for an opportunity to get out of New York to a calm place where I can get my Zen back. I was excited to go back to Nigeria during all that confusion because I figured that it might be slightly better but was I in for an angry surprise.
When I left Nigeria, many years ago, constant electricity was an issue. In my home, we had a good generator which worked but I hated it because of its noise. When there was no petrol for the generators then we used the lantern. Because of my hatred of darkness, the lack of electricity, the lantern ensured that I was always on top of my work. But, that was many years ago. I expected that certain things would have changed but in the case of PHCN, it actually got worse.
I returned home to no light and the jarring sounds of generators disturbing the night air. That was my welcome to Nigeria surprise after the bumpy ride on the bad roads leading to my home. Now, I am not saying that other African countries have it better since I’ve heard that many actually have it worse but my frustration with Lagos, in particular, was that many have accepted this substandard behavior as normal.
How can one explain that an oil producing nation like Nigeria which is ranked at the top ten of exporters of oil cannot boast of giving its indigenes constant or at least semi constant light? We talk in the billions but yet, the effect cannot be seen in the lives of the average Nigerian. Through out my stay in Lagos state, we had 30 minutes of light which was divided into 15 minutes breaks. The first 15 minutes was in the morning hours when no one was supposed to be home and the remaining 15 minutes was later on in the evening as we stepped in. Like seriously?
Now, I understand that there seems to be a form of silent agreement between PHCN, generator manufacturers (yes, we have our own brand called my generator pass my neighbor's own), generator sellers, candle sellers, kerosine and lantern sellers but where does this leave the average Nigerian who needs electricity to run their business, who takes courses online, who needs to come home to a cool house with cold water, who has taught himself to only buy items for the day because the refrigerator does not work or has been damaged by the pit patter games of PHCN? By the way, unlike the United States, where you can get a refund on items destroyed because of the lack of electricity, that does not exist in Nigeria.
It becomes more ludicrous when you visit a PHCN office to pay a bill and you see that their electricity is generated via a generator. Ironic!!!! For, those like myself, who detest noise with a passion, you can’t decide to have an inverter in a place like Lagos because the electricity needed to get it ready is almost never there.
Now, people have said that electricity distribution is a class issue. They say that those who live in areas like Lekki, Ikoyi, Victoria Island where the upper echelon of society reside do not go through issues like those who live in the mainland. Unfortunately, that’s not really true. They go through the same thing but not as bad as the mainlanders. But, I will have to ask why should electricity distribution be a class issue in a state as wealthy as Lagos state?
One of the statements that I found myself repeating as I saw a lot of things that could give an average diasporan gray hair was that we are the creators of our own hell. We are the ones who have taught ourselves to accept substandard behavior and services as normal. We have learnt the we go manage technique. No, there are things that are manageable and there are things that are completely unacceptable. For those whose inner person fights back at the nonsense that we are being fed, they have learnt to silence that voice with the throbbing sounds of religion which teaches acceptance because there is a better place later. Oh NO!
The other day, I was listening to a radio broadcast on a Nigerian radio station which caters to the diasporan Nigerian community in which they were basically inviting investors to see Nigeria as a viable market to go and invest. I agree,we have what is needed to get investors interested but I wonder will they show the investors the real Lagos and Nigeria where the average Nigerian lives. Maybe the investors will stay in posh places, and their drivers will only take them through areas in which the average Nigerian does not reside or pass by.
Who knows?
Monday, December 10, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Adventures In Nigeria
Iya Basira Is Coming To Town.
I am a foodie and I am quite honest about my love for food that is different, authentic, with spices and vegetables that I’ve never heard of. It is no secret that when I travel, I choose to eat at localties and the types of foods that these places are known for. Of course, this has gotten me into a lot of trouble in terms of my health and this occurred again when I visited Nigeria and I had to spend some time in bed because of a sore throat. Fura de nunu sold by the Fulani women at Wuse Market was the culprit. Abuja, you still have my heart.
Iya Basira or Mama Put or Buka is a local eatery often visited by those of a lower income level or those seeking a food adventure or those who aren’t really into the ‘airs’ of more renown establishments. These are the kinds of places I enjoy visiting even when I travel. These kinds of places offer some kind of authenticity to their meals, it is just what it is with a lot of sweat, grunt and heavy manual labor that it actually tastes better.
This year, I had sworn that despite all warnings, I will be visiting this kind of eatery. They are the only kind of place that can spice the food just right. To get me out of my house and on this wonderful Foodie adventure delight, I had to get someone who will come to my house, introduce himself or herself as a person of character and bundle me out before my parents could start asking questions about the water and ingredients used in cooking such meals. As such, I employed a FB friend of mine, I will call him Chi, to do the honors. Now, I know having Chi come to my home will open a whole can of worms considering how we met, particularly after that Cynthia thing but Chi went out of his way to ensure that I had all his information so that he can be tracked down just in case he turns out to be a serial killer or love juju user (sister’s interpretation of possible events).
On my second day back home, Chi came to my home and presented himself well and we rushed out. Since Chi is very ehm, what word do I use to describe him now *tongue in cheek*....... Let me try again. Since Chi, like many Lagosians, won’t understand the reason that this Iya Basira adventure is very important to a Foodie like myself, I decided to spare him the agony of taking me to the kind of place I really wanted to go to. He took me to one in Ikeja that could just barely fit into the category of an Iya Basira, on a higher level than an Iya Basira with music playing very loud, people watching football (that Manchester crap, Chelsea, assn whatever nonsense that Nigerians spend so much time on rather than developing their own football teams). The music was so loud that I could barely hear myself talk. I felt so sorry for Chi because he really did try to have a conversation, I was so sure he won’t have a voice by the time he wakes up the following morning. But, fortunately, he was okay. Yipee!!
We were served Ofada rice and some pear drink. The rice was good but unfortunately, it did not have the kind of heat and spice that actually took me on this adventure my second night in. It was just okay. The drink was okay. The setting as I mentioned earlier was very noisy. But, the company was great. It is always wonderful to relax with people in your now foreign home country. Chi took me home to my very anxious parents and he was just simply a gentleman. As a side note, Nigerian girls in Nigeria, you guys are dulling so many fine single young men in Nigeria na wetin una dey do? Stop playing ten ten and get to it o!
I do intend to visit an authentic Iya Basira or Mama Put the next time I am in the country. I know exactly what to order. Poor Chi, will he be my next Foodie adventure guide?
I am a foodie and I am quite honest about my love for food that is different, authentic, with spices and vegetables that I’ve never heard of. It is no secret that when I travel, I choose to eat at localties and the types of foods that these places are known for. Of course, this has gotten me into a lot of trouble in terms of my health and this occurred again when I visited Nigeria and I had to spend some time in bed because of a sore throat. Fura de nunu sold by the Fulani women at Wuse Market was the culprit. Abuja, you still have my heart.
Iya Basira or Mama Put or Buka is a local eatery often visited by those of a lower income level or those seeking a food adventure or those who aren’t really into the ‘airs’ of more renown establishments. These are the kinds of places I enjoy visiting even when I travel. These kinds of places offer some kind of authenticity to their meals, it is just what it is with a lot of sweat, grunt and heavy manual labor that it actually tastes better.
This year, I had sworn that despite all warnings, I will be visiting this kind of eatery. They are the only kind of place that can spice the food just right. To get me out of my house and on this wonderful Foodie adventure delight, I had to get someone who will come to my house, introduce himself or herself as a person of character and bundle me out before my parents could start asking questions about the water and ingredients used in cooking such meals. As such, I employed a FB friend of mine, I will call him Chi, to do the honors. Now, I know having Chi come to my home will open a whole can of worms considering how we met, particularly after that Cynthia thing but Chi went out of his way to ensure that I had all his information so that he can be tracked down just in case he turns out to be a serial killer or love juju user (sister’s interpretation of possible events).
On my second day back home, Chi came to my home and presented himself well and we rushed out. Since Chi is very ehm, what word do I use to describe him now *tongue in cheek*....... Let me try again. Since Chi, like many Lagosians, won’t understand the reason that this Iya Basira adventure is very important to a Foodie like myself, I decided to spare him the agony of taking me to the kind of place I really wanted to go to. He took me to one in Ikeja that could just barely fit into the category of an Iya Basira, on a higher level than an Iya Basira with music playing very loud, people watching football (that Manchester crap, Chelsea, assn whatever nonsense that Nigerians spend so much time on rather than developing their own football teams). The music was so loud that I could barely hear myself talk. I felt so sorry for Chi because he really did try to have a conversation, I was so sure he won’t have a voice by the time he wakes up the following morning. But, fortunately, he was okay. Yipee!!
We were served Ofada rice and some pear drink. The rice was good but unfortunately, it did not have the kind of heat and spice that actually took me on this adventure my second night in. It was just okay. The drink was okay. The setting as I mentioned earlier was very noisy. But, the company was great. It is always wonderful to relax with people in your now foreign home country. Chi took me home to my very anxious parents and he was just simply a gentleman. As a side note, Nigerian girls in Nigeria, you guys are dulling so many fine single young men in Nigeria na wetin una dey do? Stop playing ten ten and get to it o!
I do intend to visit an authentic Iya Basira or Mama Put the next time I am in the country. I know exactly what to order. Poor Chi, will he be my next Foodie adventure guide?
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Adventures In Nigeria
Welcome To Nigeria
The airport:
As was mentioned in an earlier post, I had the opportunity to revisit Nigeria for two weeks, it was definitely an eye opening experience filled with interesting conversations and multiple adventures. I hope to share some of my moments with you for the next month or so.
I arrived at Murtala Mohammed Airport in Lagos on a Nigerian Saturday evening. I had spent quite a pleasant flight with a Nigerian married man with a ring on his finger who wasn’t averse to flirting while sharing stories of his sons in South Africa. That was interesting considering that I was left with the impression that if I was open to it, I could be his run girl for the duration of his trip in Nigeria. Fascinating. We got off the plane and passed through a partition in which the air conditioner was working which was deceptive considering that Nigeria and particularly the city that the airport is located is notorious for its non functional PHCN facility that often runs with the aid of generators.
At first, I was in shock at the fact that the AC was actually working, this shock was reflected in the faces of fellow Nigerians entering that partition while those who did not have any fears of sharing, definitely spoke about how that area was last year, with its leaking roof and its bucket below to collect water. I kept quiet wondering if Nigeria had decided to step up to its place on the continent and have working amenities like its counterparts with less revenue. Alas, it was just a dream, as we entered into the border control part of immigration where we were greeted with hot air, no fan and a welcome to Nigeria sign that definitely welcomed us in.
Passing through border controls was very organized and the workers were very pleasant. They went out of their way to actually welcome you into the country and it was time to get our boxes. Since, I did not have any Nigerian currency with me, my dear plane friend was kind enough to pay for the trolley which was a sign of the generosity that many Nigerians in the Diasporas are known for. Our suitcases took a while coming in but it eventually did and it was time to go to where our family members were waiting for us.
On my way over, I was stopped by a lady in what seemed to be a military attire, she asked me to give her ‘something’ considering I had two big boxes, a carry on and my handbag. I had nothing to give her, I mentioned that the boxes had toys for children and suspecting that she could be a mother, I mentioned that little children were all waiting for their toys. She instantly forgot the boxes and asked for ‘something’ else...I mentioned that all I had was my 50 naira change and I could give that to her. She did not want that but she eventually let me go through. I had some help getting my boxes outside to where my family was waiting.
Again, I saw the blatant disregard for our currency from the person who helped to push the trolley who wasn’t interested in receiving Nigerian money which was equivalent but rather begged for foreign currency.
I got home to a black out. Welcome to Nigeria.
The airport:
As was mentioned in an earlier post, I had the opportunity to revisit Nigeria for two weeks, it was definitely an eye opening experience filled with interesting conversations and multiple adventures. I hope to share some of my moments with you for the next month or so.
I arrived at Murtala Mohammed Airport in Lagos on a Nigerian Saturday evening. I had spent quite a pleasant flight with a Nigerian married man with a ring on his finger who wasn’t averse to flirting while sharing stories of his sons in South Africa. That was interesting considering that I was left with the impression that if I was open to it, I could be his run girl for the duration of his trip in Nigeria. Fascinating. We got off the plane and passed through a partition in which the air conditioner was working which was deceptive considering that Nigeria and particularly the city that the airport is located is notorious for its non functional PHCN facility that often runs with the aid of generators.
At first, I was in shock at the fact that the AC was actually working, this shock was reflected in the faces of fellow Nigerians entering that partition while those who did not have any fears of sharing, definitely spoke about how that area was last year, with its leaking roof and its bucket below to collect water. I kept quiet wondering if Nigeria had decided to step up to its place on the continent and have working amenities like its counterparts with less revenue. Alas, it was just a dream, as we entered into the border control part of immigration where we were greeted with hot air, no fan and a welcome to Nigeria sign that definitely welcomed us in.
Passing through border controls was very organized and the workers were very pleasant. They went out of their way to actually welcome you into the country and it was time to get our boxes. Since, I did not have any Nigerian currency with me, my dear plane friend was kind enough to pay for the trolley which was a sign of the generosity that many Nigerians in the Diasporas are known for. Our suitcases took a while coming in but it eventually did and it was time to go to where our family members were waiting for us.
On my way over, I was stopped by a lady in what seemed to be a military attire, she asked me to give her ‘something’ considering I had two big boxes, a carry on and my handbag. I had nothing to give her, I mentioned that the boxes had toys for children and suspecting that she could be a mother, I mentioned that little children were all waiting for their toys. She instantly forgot the boxes and asked for ‘something’ else...I mentioned that all I had was my 50 naira change and I could give that to her. She did not want that but she eventually let me go through. I had some help getting my boxes outside to where my family was waiting.
Again, I saw the blatant disregard for our currency from the person who helped to push the trolley who wasn’t interested in receiving Nigerian money which was equivalent but rather begged for foreign currency.
I got home to a black out. Welcome to Nigeria.
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