Bitter herb and pepper soup

09/08/2010

Bitter herb.  Anyone heard of that before?  I’ve read about it in the Nigerian literature as it gets mentioned quite often by different authors. 

A while back Revival (The Namibian ambassadors wife, remember?) gave me a stick to put into the ground to see it grow. I had that stick, which did start growing vigorously, in a sack on my back veranda for a month or more. Eventually last Wednesday I got Kenny, our driver, to stop along the road in search of the right size pot.  Roadside nurseries stretch along most of the main streets in Nigeria.  When I explained that I needed a pot and some soil, not a plant, the sales gent simply pulled out a plant and gave me the pot with soil and all, at a price of course.  And the stick plant got potted and its dignity back.  It looked good almost like a decorative plant and developed lots of nice leaves. 

That was yesterday.  Today it has just a few feeble leaves left.  The reason?  Pepper soup.

Fatima was going to teach me how to make the famous Nigerian pepper soup.  It is very easy, but … and there lies the trick, apart from lots of chilly peppers you need Nigerian herbs.  Lo and behold my back veranda had two of the herbs needed: A mint, also from Revival and my stick plant, the bitter herb.  Fatima is going to get me the other traditional herbs from the market because you cannot buy it in a grocery store: atariko (a kind of small chillie), uda (like a small thin mushroom), gbafilo, rigije and uyayak (all leafy herbs).  The internet gave me a list of substitute herbs for Nigerian herbs: aniseed, aniseed pepper, cloves, coriander seeds, cumin seeds, allspice, dried ginger, tamarind pods and fennel seeds.  However Fatima said it is not the same and then believe me, it is just not the same.

We have now a pot of hot, hot (really hot) cold pepper soup, waiting to be heated up for our supper tonight.  Maybe I should divide it, freeze the one half for another brave day and just heat up a small bit. Because I think, at least I, will only have a limited amount. Nick likes the hot stuff and is always smothering his food with tobasco.  Small wonder he likes all my cooking.



With the pepper soup and other soups and stews, the West Africans eat a dough like lump of yams, coco yams or cassava. They are all tubers which are dried, ground and steamed. The cooked product looks a bit like our stywe pap, but they present it in a ball, the size of a tennis ball, wrapped in plastic.  That is how you get it at all the big hotels here.  I am not sure how they presented it in the pre-glad wrap years and in the rural areas.  After opening this package, one pinch off a piece, roll it between your fingers into a small ball and then dip it into the soup or stew before eating it.  It taste very different from anything I have eaten before, but not unpleasant, though I will have to get used to it before it will become a selected choice.



Bitter herb



There is another handy purpose for the bitter herb.  Most useful here where foreigners found that they struggle to keep their stomachs stable and comfortable.  Mix the bitter herbs with water, liquidize it with something sweet such as an apple or honey (to make it more palatable) and drink.  Apparently this green drink is excellent to stabilize the tummies.  No wonder the locals do not seem to battle with upset stomacs, this bush grows every where and they just chew the leaves and  no wallah (pigen English for… yes you have guessed… no problem). The Hausas says Ba Komi, meaning more or less the same as no wallah.



Understanding language and fabrics

Understanding the local people can be difficult at times.  While spending some time painting in my friend Tyna’s studio I met another artist friend of hers, with a nickname of Perfect.  I asked him if it is not difficult to earn a living as an artist and how he earns an income as selling paintings can be very sporadic.  His response was that he makes “kik”.  My puzzled expression got Tyna to explain “He makes kik, mah”.  My brain was rushing to try to make sense of the word.  Surely he can’t be selling “kicks”, or maybe “chicks”, and the only other word I could think of was an unsavory Afrikaans word, which it could not be either.  And then after repeatedly being thrown with the word by both Tyna and Perfect….clarity: Cakes!!!! It turned out he bakes and decorates cakes for special occasions such as christenings, special birthdays, graduations and weddings. What a laugh we all had.  I then got shown some photos of his cakes….very professional.

Working once a week in Tyna’s studio has brought me in contact with a few Nigerian artist and I am enjoying their conversations, however badly understood sometimes.  They are young, ambitious and quite outspoken.  In the process I have been asked to join in a group exhibition to be held at the end of September coincidently right here in the same compound as where we are living: Ancestors court.  I was shown the draft invitation card yesterday:  50 years of  Nigerian woman artist.  I beg you, where do I fit in with my four months residency behind me? And my name is boldly on the invitation!!!!.

I went fabric shopping the other day:  Nigerian fabrics.  A friend told me you could get dress fabrics quite reasonably priced at Sahads.  Apparently a lot of expatriates turn their noses up for the shop, I was told, but they did not mind as things are in general a lot cheaper there. Parking is difficult as it draws quite a crowd of locals, exactly because of its price reputation.  The four story building does not look at all like a shop and my instinct told me to squeeze up the stairs to the first floor.  There were all kinds of groceries and only a small sign that gave me a clue that there are fabrics hidden around the corner in the grocery shop.  Fabrics in Nigeria do not get sold from rolls, from which you get cut the exact length of material you want.  It is all precut in 6 yard lengths.  This makes for a colourful display of different strips of colourful materials on the shelves – a display which had caught my eye repeatedly in the past in the markets.

The fabric shop area was full of people, men, women and even children, all comparing different patterns and colours.  Watching them I became aware of how different my choice of pattern and colours is to most of theirs. To my mind their choices are loud jarring colours and big unattractive patterns.  How on earth can they make dresses out of that?  Yet by now I have noticed that their dress makers are very skillful with placing patterns to compliment the figures and it does turn out very striking…. most of the time.  However when I came to chose a length of material, with in mind to get one of their dressmakers make me a Nigerian dress; I just could not go that bold.  I had to choose between either clashing colours or big, bold printed shapes.  I went for the big patterns and a more muted green blue colour scheme.  I managed to whip out my cell phone to pretend I was phoning but in reality I took some photos.

Tomorrow Fatima is going to show me how to make Nigerian pepper soup.  I must tell you pepper soup is only for the brave…and Nigerians of course.  It is one of the tastiest dishes I have ever tasted, but you have to have a glass of water ready.  In spite of the delicious taste I could not manage more than a few spoonfuls.  It certainly beats hot Indian curry.  Maybe if I make it I can keep the taste and bring down the heat..???

Kidnapping

07.28. 2010




Wahab Oba, chairman of the Nigerian Union of Journalists, Lagos State council, who was one of the three recently and much publicized kidnapped journalists, shed a thought provoking light on the increasingly disturbing phenomenon of kidnapping in Nigeria. He said it would be foolish to think that this is mere criminal activity.

Often out of shear desperation previously respected members of the community, police and traditional rulers are getting involved and see it as their only way of getting their share of the Nigerian profits.

Oba called it a wake up call to the complicated and extensive nature of kidnapping caused by the serious economic problem in Nigeria. He said the kidnappers claimed that they were “led into crime as a result of neglect by government”. To explain this he went on to highlight two aspects of neglect by the government: economic opportunities (jobs and infrastructure) and rewarding the right people for hard work done.

He explained that currently Nigerian society is littered with rich people who have not worked for the money they flaunt, and many poor people who have nothing to show for the hard work they have invested in the society. “It is a lopsided reward system that rewards corruption, waste and inefficiency, but penalizes hard work and diligence. In an environment like this, young people are inclined to look for means of getting rich quickly without working hard for it, and this includes kidnapping.”



My young artist friend Tyna, was saying last week that many young people her age leave the country when they complete their studies. I know this is a simplistic view, but one wonders if some of them end up in other countries not being able to get jobs and are forced into crime. Small wonder then that Nigerians are branded as criminals. A recent South African award winning film was banned in Nigerian because the criminal in it was portrayed as a Nigerian.



With a new president and cabinet and an election coming up next year, the country is hoping and crying for change. Apart from better power supply (electricity) they want, above anything else, the eradicating of corruption with growth of the economy as an outcome, which should benefit the whole population.



Many of the ordinary Nigerians are honest hard working people, with a friendly smile and a readiness to help. Not all of them are corrupt, but that does not mean they are less desperate and unhappy with the situation in the country.



However to change this country will be a bit like turning a huge ship, slow and difficult. We are talking here of a country that is just smaller than South Africa but with a population count of 140 million in comparison to South Africa’s mere 47 million. 70% of the Nigerians live below the breadline while in South Africa 50% live below the breadline.

Although one can only condemn kidnapping, in a climate like this, where people resent the injustice of the system, and have corruption as role models to justify their acts, the practice of kidnapping will be hard to stop. To change the mindset of the youth will be slow and difficult. But they are trying …..Billboards, radios, newspapers even graffiti are almost begging people to become morally accountable. In the newspapers you read about the overhaul of the stock exchange and banking systems which is in the pipeline. One wonders if all this action is not just to impress before the election.

Will change really come to this country that is so desperate for it after fifty years of inefficiency and corruption. Will they one day be a country that can stand proud, a country that can reach the potential it so evidently has. We hope so.

My Fatima and cooking

07.20.2010

I have big gaps in my education and one area is cooking. I like cooking and try to figure out how to do it using cooking books and the occasional cooking demonstration, but in reality there are areas that are dangerous for me. One of them is fish. I try from time to time and my family bears with me with no comment. Otherwise I just buy the already filleted, battered and frozen variety which only needs to be put into the oven for a while before eating it. But you can not find that here, the prepared frozen variety I mean. Otherwise the Nigerians are big fish eaters and there are lots of fish available: Giwan Ruwa(Niger Perch), African Salmon, Roga Rowa and their big favourite Catfish and Tilapia.

Fatima reading my cooking books in the kitchen door

My cleaning lady, also a Fatima, I discovered, is a trained cook. She took over one day when she saw me trying to debone a chicken, which I thought I was doing well. I was reluctant as I knew the Nigerian way to cut up a chicken was to just bash it with an ax right through the bones leaving splinters of bones in the meat. However her deft professional cut convinced me that I have a professional in my house. She went to cooking school in Lagos and her mother was a good cook from whom she learnt a lot. We cooked the chicken stock together and I realised that this lady knows a lot more than I do. She agreed with much laughter to give me cooking lessons once a week.

I had my first cooking lesson this morning. Yes you’ve guessed it: scaling, filleting and preparing….. fish. A whole Croaker to be exact. And now I’ve got the most delicious clean deboned fillets, waiting in the fridge to be cooked for supper, covered with lots of garlic, lemon, fresh coriander and parsley and whole crushed pepper. Yummy. (After report: Nick thought it delicious, I thought it was a bit on the dry side.)



More about Fatima: She is a cleaner by extraordinaire. So unlike the general Nigerian workmen she does everything super thoroughly. I’ve never had a cleaning lady (with all due respect to Evelyn, Lindsay, Dora and Sylvia) who actually upturn furniture when she cleans and leave the house in the afternoon with every cupboard and drawer in the house neatly cleaned and packed, including the fridge. How she does it I do not know. I got a clue for the reason for this when my Namibian friend Revival told me she actually sacked her first cleaning lady because of the dust on everything. That was before she realized you cannot keep the dust off surfaces for longer than a half an hour during the months of the dry Harmattan winds. These cleaning ladies are trained by the Harmattan.



With that kind of work ethic, needless to say Fatima does not have a high regard for her fellow countrymen and more specifically those who have to keep this building in decent working condition. She knows every fault in the building, how it should be fixed and the whole history of how long the different occupants have struggled with leaking pipes, broken window handles, gaps in the walls and doors that do not fit.

She is also a valuable and willing informant of everything you need to know. Currently there is a bad sewage smell invading the apartment from time to time. Fatima informed me that everyone is complaining, and that the health department is looking into it but they cannot find the culprit. There is a small river flowing between our building and the next building which is currently being built in the slow Nigerian fashion. I’ve got a strong suspicion that that is where it comes from. Their shack toilet is a lean to on the bordering wall to the river and looks dubious. Maybe the problem will disappear once the building is finish; however that may still take a while. Taking a walk yesterday, in this more posh area of an already posh by Nigerian standards city, we realized that the sewage smell problem is probably more wide spread, as you get a whiff of it every now and then. (Two days later…the smell is gone at last. They must have found the culprit!!!!)

I guess the solution is to just close your window when it gets too bad, turn on the aircondition and spray air freshener….. Fatima’s solution.

From my kitchen door

Dinner in Port Harcourt

Fatima, the colonel’s wife, flew down from Kaduna in the North, where she lives, to visit her husband. She joined us for the two dinners we had together in Port Harcourt. She is a lovely confident well spoken woman, wearing the wrapped attire of the Muslim women with some beautiful jewelry.

We exchanging information about our lives and found out it was not all that different. They have five children. The eldest a daughter is just one month younger than Alison (we were pregnant with our first children at the same time) and is studying economics. Her eldest son wants to be a doctor. He always loved horses and rode them until he developed a skin allergy which makes it impossible for him to continue with it. Apart from raising her children, Fatima liked planting her own vegetables and even raised her own chickens. As pets they have cats and she and her children also find it hard to depart for the kittens after naming them.



Recently she started working for the government helping to organize the forthcoming elections. Her dream is to start her own small business. She is an independent woman who had to fend for herself as being married to a military man she ended up on her own for long stretches of time, while he served in the peacekeeping force in places like Sudan. She calculated that in the twenty years of marriage they have only spent ten years together. Yet one pick up that there is a lovely relationship between them in the way she knows what he likes to eat and shares food with him and how they support each others discussions.



One of the most beautiful images of this trip was the view from the plane over the Niger Delta. Snaking waterways spread as far as the horizon and the river flowing thick and full this time of the year. The dilemma of the farmers in this area is that there are no good roads to markets, as building bridges over all these tributaries will be extremely expensive. Most farmers here just plant for their own needs. However the argument is raised that all the money the government makes from the oil in this region should really be spent on upgrading the infrastructure and fighting the immense poverty of the population. Dotted amongst the waterways you see the flames of the oil pumps every now and then, burning off the gas.



Another problem is that of the fishermen in this area: the waterways are getting clogged up with spilt oil which is seeping into the soil and killing all the fish. The oil companies and government are blaming the local population for pirating the oil pipelines. They steal the oil to make a crude kind of fuel for vehicles. The colonel showed us some pictures of how they do it with big drums on fire. Extremely dangerous, and they are not really making much out of it because petrol in Nigeria is dirt cheap, sponsored by the government. It makes you realize just how desperate these people are.



The Mexican oil spill helped highlighting the oil spill in the Delta area, which has been going on for years totally ignored by the rest of the world. Whether something can still be done to save this sensitive echo system is a big question. If the big oil companies start to take a responsibility here like in Mexico, they will have to start with the people of the area, maybe create jobs to clear the oil spill and build bridges and roads. Or will greed still prevail?

Wari and Port harcourt

07.08.2010




This is a land of contrasts.



We landed in Wari (pronounced like “don’t worry”) with quite a ceremony. Outside the plane on the runway two groups of brightly attired ladies were dancing. The one group wore bright yellow patterned wrap skirts with white blouses and gold head cloths and the other had on purple wraps, red blouses. A lively band accompanied them and a whole crowd dressed to kill was waiting on the fringe of the runway in front of the airport building. This colourful scene plus the green landscape around us dotted with hundreds of palm trees gave a festive relaxed feeling on our arrival to the troublesome and often dangerous area.



As soon as the plane stopped some in the crowd started running towards the plane. Airport security personnel tried to stop them but as I watched a formidable lady just pushed them aside and marched on towards the steps to the plane. Fortunately they managed to halt some of the crowd and by the time we have descended from the plane the way was open to walk pass this spectacle, because by then the object of their attention was in their midst and backs were turned towards us. It turned out to be the home coming of a chief who was elected as some or other president in Abuja.

Our host, who was travelling with us, directed us quietly to the one side of the room in which the baggage arrived, informing us that we will wait until the crowd has dispersed, explaining nervously that anything could spark violence in a crowd like this. And sure enough on our departure in front of the airport building we saw the armed soldiers on the ready if something should happen. Even our driver came to meet us with an armed guard in tow.

We were in Wari by invitation of the Nigerian Institute of Welders. The occasion was the opening of their new training premises and seeing off a bunch of about thirty young trainees leaving for South Africa in the next couple of days. They have been given practical training in Nigeria by South African instructors and now these chosen thirty were going to do their theoretical training in South Africa. They will become the future instructors to train welders in Nigeria whose main tasks will be to service the oil pipes. The pride and excitement amongst the guys were infectious and one can just envision how it is going to change their own lives coming from an area where poverty and lack of jobs were high.

Later that afternoon we flew to Port Harcourt. As our planned pickup arrangement was stuck in traffic, Muizz, Nick’s sidekick who was travelling with us and who made all the travelling and staying arrangements, ordered a taxi. A rattletrap Mercedes arrived, just to be rejected by Muizz. The second taxi looked a bit better until we were all piled into it. It battled to start, made a big screech, went backwards in stead of forwards before we got going at last. In the traffic it threatened to overheat and the aircon had to be switched off. We made it to the hotel but not before all of us visualized ourselves standing next to the road in the rain.

Our next transport that evening was the complete opposite. We were to have dinner at another hotel with a friend of our host. Outside the hotel arrived to pick us up, a military double cab. Beside the driver an armed military man was seated and in the open bakkie behind us, were four more armed militaries. We were careering through the Port Harcourt streets in true African style. At the President hotel we were introduced to the friend of our host: the colonel and in charge of all the military in the area, which explained our mode of transport.

The evening turned out to be fascinating. They were all Hausas at the table with the exception of Muizz. The three main ethnic groups in Nigeria is Hausa (predominantly Muslems), Joruba and Igbo (mainly Christians). There are more minority groups as well. To hear the complexities of their society from a military commander, who have to instill order between them was most interesting. For centauries these groups have often been in conflict. The Biafra war, for example, was ignited because the Igbos wanted to establish their own country as they felt threatened by the other groups. The Jorubas and Hausas in turn saw them as power hungry who owned most of the property. The Hausa is spread over six countries from Nigeria to Sudan, and the Igbo’s in the Delta and River estates are regarded as Cameroons by that country. Then how on earth are they going to have a free and fair election next year?



The fear and expectation of conflict is high.

Graffiti and expats

14.06.2010

Graffiti has a much more practical use in Abuja and I think Lagos as well. It replaces posters, official notifications, adverts and what not. You never see a house for sale sign, but you often see scribbled on a wall “This house is not for sale”.

Does that mean the property market is booming and there are no properties available? At the rate they are building one could well think that. However Nick discovered the reason – yes I think one should have guessed – it is to avoid scams. Alison said you have just had the first highly published scam in South Africa: people posing as owners selling a property they do not own, to innocent buyers. Well it seem to be old news here and the solution: write on the wall “This house is not for sale”.

They have huge billboards like we have in South Africa, but all most of them have on them are big skew handwritten telephone numbers. That puzzled me in the beginning as well, but yes it is apparently begging for advertisers.

And then the official notice on a wall with date and the lot: Abandonned structure, improve or remove, no approval and another date, three years ago. Very practical. And sometimes very bluntly in big red letters: STOP WORK. Looking at the number of collapse buildings there must be a reason for these notices.

Another interesting observation about Nigerian drivers etiquette: If you find yourself in the left lane (of three or four lanes depending on how many cars can squeeze in next to each other waiting for a rare traffic light or the traffic director to indicate go) and you want to turn right, you drive onto the pavement on your left, bypass all the waiting cars and swing out right in front of all of the waiting cars and join the front of the left queue, ready to go when the indication to go comes. And all the waiting cars just accept that without a single hoot!!!! It happens often enough to make you thinks it is acceptable.

Yes I do harp on all the idiosyncrasies of Nigerian life, I know, but it makes life interesting here. There are a lot of positive aspects too and one of the most endearing is the open relaxed friendliness of the Nigerians. They are keen to help you where you can. Originally you suspect they are just after some “dash”, just to be rudely embarrassed when you do offer them a tip to be embarrassingly refused. Not all though, but most of them just want to help you. However if they do take the tip, such as at the airports, they do not want small money and will throw it back at you.

The sad thing about expat life is the shortness of it. You have just made friends and then they are off to their next assignment. I have joined a wonderful group of ladies who want to learn from each other, organized by the Namibian High commissioners wife, Revival Smith. I attended three meetings, in a very short time made really good friends and last week we had to say goodbye to half of them: Revival and her family is posted to somewhere very cold in Europe, Ancha is leaving for Brazil, Norma is moving to Lagos, Yumika is going back to Japan etc. At least Irene from Egypt is still staying for another year and dear Angela from Kenya another two years. …And my Alison is going back to South Africa on Friday. O well luckily I’ve got my own creative outputs that will keep me absorbed and busy during the holiday months when Abuja seem to drain. And I do have all you on the other side of the magical PC. Thanks and lots of love to you all.

I’ve managed to collect a number of photos of Abuja and will send them in shifts. I have made them very small so they should not be a problem to download even in rural areas.

Traffic and markets

07.06.2010

I find myself not writing nearly as much as I actually want to. The words come to me while I am in the car, scanning the markets with its vibrant colours and textures, when I meet new and interesting people and when I am puzzled and amused about customs and peculiarities of a society so different from what I am used to. Back at home, instead of writing, I get absorbed with making home, cooking and yes reading the fascinating Nigerian literature of Chinamanda Ngozi Adichie, Whole Soyinka and Eugeunia Abu. ( I have given up on reading the newspapers as their badly written, elaboratly long boring articles is just incomprehensible when you think that they do have such excellent writers as role models.)

Abuja is a very young city into which a lot of money has been poured. It has not grown organically but was purposely designed with a dual carriage freeway around the inner city in which very few Nigerians live as it is too expensive for them. They live in the vast outskirts. They do however work here and the place is full during the week and Friday evenings, but weekends are quieter except around the markets on Saturday. Abuja center is a showcase with wide open arterial routes and circular crescent roads in between. All the buildings are relatively new, mainly built in the last twenty years since it has been declared the new capital of Nigeria. The result is some quite spectacular buildings without really a uniform style. However it certainly does not look like South Africa, maybe more eastern European with the block like houses with fairly small windows with no sign of outdoor life visible. It is usually very difficult to see if a building is inhabited, except when they become run down, which happens fairly quickly here as maintenance is not high on the priority list.

Even though the roads are not nearly as congested as in Lagos and a foreigner can drive here once mastering the road etiquette, the Nigerians still drive very different from what we are used to. Nick say they drive childish, which makes me think of the junior school kids who will push and shove each other to get to the front. That there are not more accidents is surprising as the white dotted line in the middle of the road does not seem to mean anything. They push and scramble and stop anywhere they want to, regardless of any cars behind them. Crossing a road is a real challenge. Traffic lights seldom works, sometimes they will have a listless looking individual in a uniform standing in a box in the middle who will make some incomprehensible sign, which looks more like trying to feed a dog or scratching a fly out of the air. Most of the times there is nothing and the vague rule is that the motorist in the widest road has preference, however often there are two equally important roads crossing each other. Then the rule seems to be that the biggest bully and the most fearless goes first. Intimidation comes naturally and the hooter plays a big role and becomes a language of its own. Driving on the pavement happens sometimes and u-turns are common even on highways. Luckily, unlike other cities motorbikes are forbidden in the inner city, which is appreciated once you have visited Lagos. I heard today from one of the other High commission wives that they tried to get a drivers license for her son. They paid the fee and then enquired about the driving test. The response was there is no test he can drive now….. That certainly explains.

I had the privilege the other day to have been taken on a tour through the markets by the Nigerian High Commissioners wife. She is a real character, has been here for 5 years already and knows all the ins and outs. We went to look for some beads, and she also bought a big box full of Brazilian chicken, which are cheaper than the locally bred chicken. I order my chicken from a farm in Jos, the plateau estate; about three hours drive from here. They deliver to your home once a week. Their chicken tastes different from ours at home but is delicious. I also order vegetables from a farm in Jos which can be delivered twice a week. The veggies are so fresh that it last about 10 days. Now that I am getting used to everything I discovered that I can cook almost anything I want and we are eating well: lots of fresh salads, good chicken and bacon and had a pork roll tonight that was not too bad. We still have to tackle the fish markets. That apparently is something else and people dream about the fish braais when they leave the country. I will write about that experience. We will probably go when Alison is here….which is in three days time.!!!!!

Attached also some pictures of two birds on our window sill doing their mating dance.

Enjoy the world cup. We, South Africans here, are going to a big World cup opening party at the Protea Hotel with the Mexican expats on Friday. Should be fun!!!!!

Sarius Palmetum

05.25.2010

My latest inspiration come from a woman I met yesterday,. Mrs Ajoke Murtala Muhammed, a small, gentle, modest, unassuming figure. In a photo I have of her she is wearing a simple kopdoek, an apron and heavy garden clogs, and yes some ear rings

I met her at a book reading at the celebration of the first birthday of the Sarins Palmetum, in a beautiful valley, filled with palms, gazebos, nursery and pathways through the hills of Abuja. This amazing place is her creation, not just her idea but her physical effort where she works every day from early until late. “I have to earn my pay today” she explains on questioned why she works so hard at her age. She knows the botanical name and has collected most of the palms on the property, the biggest palm collection in Africa.



Affectionately she is nicknamed Mummy by the Nigerians. She is a former first lady and in 1988 after the assassination of her husband she decided to accomplish two goals at once; to share her life-long love for plants and the natural environment with her fellow Nigerians and at the same time to honour the memory of her beloved late husband – former Head of State, General Murtala Muhammed.

In 1990 she was nominated as Nigeria’s delegate to the Osaka Expo – a global exhibition of horticultural and conservation of plants. In 1992 she was part of the official delegation to the global environment gathering in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil – the Earth Conference., where she met Dr Wangari Maathai – now Nobel Peace laureate – founder and leader of the Green Belt Movement. The two agreed to start a Green Belt Movement in Nigeria to plant trees and restore degraded lands similar to the Laureate’s now famous program in Kenya and elsewhere in the world. (I read Wangari Maathai’s book “Unbowed” recently and can highly recommend it for inspirational reading.)

H.E.Mrs Ajoke Murtala Muhammed created the Murtala Muhammed Memorial Botanical Garden in Epe, Lagos and now she is busy with the Sarius Palmetum and Botanical Garden in Abuja…... And guess what: as the crow fly, it is about 500 meters, over a row of houses from my kitchen door. I was looking for this place, of which I have vaguely read about, ever since our arrival and….. there is, through nondescript gates on the road we travel everyday.

In the course of three years she has planted here a palm collection of over 400 different species, alongside other plant species including the Nigerian flora. Her declared goal in life: “I want to give something back to the society; I want to leave a legacy”.

It is her modesty, intelligence and unselfconsciousness that struck me most when she came up to me and greeted me. I recognized her from the tiny picture on a pamphlet I had just read and asked if it was really she. On which she just laughed. I am going back to learn from her. I can walk there, she is there every day and said I can come and talk to her. Wow, I am staring to love this place and its women!!.

Our stuff arrive

05.23.2010

Our main consignment of household goods arrived and with it a certain amount of peace has disappeared. Why do we burden ourselves with all this stuff? I make a resolve every now and then to get rid of stuff I do not want and do not need. But it is not so easy. What do you do with these things? You cannot just throw away a heirloom or a gift from a special friend or a reminder of a special event in your life, or something you have made…it is part of your life experience. Add it all together and you clutter your life, and with it probably your future expectations.

All this is in sharp contrast of an amazing experience I had meeting a young Nigerian artist, Tyna Adebowale. Through the gentle insistence of a gallery manager we eventually met. She invited me to her studio and I went, not really knowing what to expect. All I knew from her was the paintings I saw in the gallery, and liked. I arrived at this shabby dilapidated building next to the highway where no numbers indicating where her studio was. Down the passageway a door opened and this beautiful warm enthusiastic 28 year old girl came out to welcome me to her studio. Her studio was a revelation: no more than a half a garage in size and almost half of that partitioned off into what I assume was a storeroom. The remaining space in front of a big window had apart from the half finished paintings on the walls, a small trolley with her art materials, a fan, a two or three plastic chairs and a small chest of drawers with a TV, a printer and her laptop on. Here she spent most of her days… and nights. It turned out to be where she lives as well. When I enquired where she sleeps she indicated right there on the floor. She stretches her own big canvasses herself, also right there on the floor and offered to help me stretch canvasses I can work on. Such Spartan environment might sound austere, but in truth it was warm, honest and inspiring.

We had a wonderful time together, exchanging experiences, technical information and she showed me some of her work on her laptop and when I left we swopped facebook addresses. On a next occasion we started working together, with me propped up on the plastic chair while sketching and she working on the progressingly beautiful, three times life-size portrait of a Nigerian woman with traditional headdress in her sparkling colourful mosaic like style. While working she regaled me with stories of the different peoples in Nigeria, their customs, festivals and food and current politics. On her facebook exchange with her friends, I was able to see for the first time the strange, for me often incomprehensive use of the local English slang, called pidgin english which up to now I have only heard. When spoken, their dialect of English has a lovely round deep musically. For example “enough” is pronounced as “enoff”, “maffia” becomes “moffia”, “want” is pronounced “wont” and “culture” is “colture”.

After those experiences the excitement on the arrival of my own hoarding was mixed with feelings of regret and loss (of simplicity).

In response to the last news letter some people asked me to send photos and wanted to see pictures of Nike. The best way to do that will be to go onto her website: www.nikeart.com. I visited her cultural center just outside Abuja recently. See the photos attached. Imaginative creative buildings greeted me at the end of a dirt road. Once inside the unusual gate, Lois and the other artists came to greet me, in a way I by now realized is typical Nigerian, with warmth, excitement and an eagerness to show me around. I was shown their open air workshop where artist were busy doing embroidery, batik, dying in the indigo pots, and sewing. Inside the gallery were a section for traditional collected items such as the heavy beaded headdress of a king (photo), and a gallery stocked to the brim with contemporary artist’s work and at the back were a room from floor to ceiling with the most beautiful batiks, woven aso’oke cloths, woven raffia runners and cloths embroidered with cowrie shells amongst others.

Needless to say my hoarder’s instinct was awakened again.

New TV and clothes

05.07.2010

We got a TV yesterday. Just in time for a momentous day: British election and the decease of the Nigerian president. Other things probably also happened but that is what dominated the box for our first day of viewing.

The Nigerian president Yar Adua died yesterday and was buried according to Moslem tradition the same day but in his home town about 800 miles from here. His coffin was transported there by military plane. Most of the foreign ambassadors could not attend the ceremony as they could only get there by motor vehicle, which would take them far too long to reach the destination in time. The rest of the country had an unexpected holiday and to our frustration everything was closed for the second time this week – as they made Monday a holiday because the 1st of May workers day fell on a Saturday.

The acting president (because Yar Adua was sick since last year) Goodluck Jonathan (yes that is his name), can now take over the reigns completely. There are fears that it may cause some upheaval and rebellion but in my innocent uninformed mind I do not think so, as the next election is planned for next year April. That according to some is when things are going to become very dangerous. Not so much for us as for the Nigerians themselves, as there are several very distinct different tribes or regions such as the Yorubas, the Igbo’s , Hausa’s, Benins and others and they seem to differ considerably, even though we expats see them all as Nigerians. Admittedly each with different dress code. The biggest divide line seems to be between Muslems and Christians, the north and the south. One writer in the local newspaper described the churches and mosques as becoming temples of hate. Religion is big here. If there is a church in a street you will find a mosque a block further and if the Mosques are a massive gold domed construction the church down the road is an equally huge modern copper roofed statement. There seems to be a one-up-manship. Not very spiritual if you ask me.

You hardly see anyone overweight here and neither do you see thin emaciated people. They are well proportioned and love to dress up, with the result they are beautiful people. They love to wear their different traditional clothes even for everyday wear. The women look regal with their close fitting long skirts that flair out at the bottom, well tailored tops and beautiful big wrapped headdresses. These outfits are all made from the same material, which are richly patterned and coloured , sometime even garish. The men do not fall behind and love to dress up in equally glamorous tunics made of coloured, patterned and embroidered material. It seems to be tradition to dress up in these clothes on Fridays unlike the rest of the week which are mainly suit-and-tie days. The cherry on the cake was our driver, Kenny, who appeared one Friday with a baby pink embroidered tunic. He must have an enormous wardrobe because I have yet to see him on a Friday with an outfit he has worn before. The Muslims wear their big embroidered and layered kaftans with the little multi coloured caps on the top. All these clothes are worn very regally and proudly.

In our new appartment

05/02/2010

We have been here for a month now!!!!

The strangeness is starting to wear off. Familiarity comes with knowing where you are driving (or rather being driven) and where you can find stuff on the shop shelves, and knowing that your choice of stuff is limited and the brands unfamiliar.

It is also not so hot anymore. The rainy season has officially started. We have not seen much of it, but apparently it is raining elsewhere and is cooler. We are 6 degrees north of the equator and theoretically we are going into summer now but our cooler season is a blissful possibility.

But I have spoken too soon, we went for a hike (me)/ run (Nick) with the Abuja Hash yesterday in the outskirts of Abuja and it was incredibly hot. But we enjoyed meeting expats from all over the world on an informal base, and went to a restaurant afterwards with the crowd. It reminded us very much of our Johannesburg hiking club days.

We have moved into our flat, still without most of our own personal stuff (which could arrive anytime now to about 3 months from now), but we have enough to survive fairly comfortably until then. The flat is spacious with big rooms, 3 ensuite bedrooms, study/family room, lounge dinning room, a kind of store room, laundry space and guest toilet. However it is very gloomy due to a kind of film they put onto the small glass planes of the windows and the lights are quite dim. The aircons, (8 of them) drone noisily when they do work. I’ve ripped of all the shear curtaining that adds to the gloom because they are not white as we are used to, but dark green and yellow ochre. It is interesting that not only does the entire SA population here have the same problem with the light and lack of colour in the in interiors, but many of the other expats complain about the dark interiors as well. Probably meant to keep the heat out, but it does not help, just make it very depressing.

Enough of the depressing. Some interesting things we have noticed here: there are no car guards and no beggars. Petrol is also less than half the price than in SA (subsidized). Nigeria is the biggest oil producing country in Africa, but now the irony: over Christmas and January they had to queue for petrol because of a shortage. Some say it is because of the absence of the president. He is sick and has still not returned into office. At least they had installed and acting president just after we arrived….. So petrol is now available again???. (Not sure what is the logic here)

I’ve been to a few galleries, here and in Lagos. Still however, too little to get a clear idea about the Nigerian art. There is some inspiring stuff but also some awfully commercial stuff.

I met an amazing woman called Nike (pronounced Neekay) Okundaye. She is a batik artist whose motifs have their origins in Yoruba religion and folklore. Her first experience of business was at the age of six when she lost her mother and had to go and work selling banana leaves. Over the years she learned the traditional Yoruba art forms of adire and embroidery from her grandmother and great grandmother. At the age of 16 she defied her father and ran away to join a traveling theater group rather than marry the old man her father had selected for her. Later she went to work as an art apprentice for one of Nigeria’s well-known contemporary artist. Nike became one of his 15 wives and spent 16 violent, abusive and deprived years in a polygamist marriage.

Today she is one of the most well-known and respected contemporary artist not only in West Africa but also in Europe and the U.S. She has been incredibly successful in promoting Nigerian art forms all over the world via the many workshops she teaches in Europe and U.S. At her Art centers in Oshogbo, Lagos and Abuja she trains men and women free of charge in Nigeria’s various art forms. She is also an active and committed opponent of the economic slavery of women through the practice of polygamy.

I was awed when I reached her gallery to find a brand new 4 story building with beautiful decorated gates (she had painstakingly done herself). See attached photo. The door flew open and this woman (Nike herself) came flying out and gave me a big hug. After introductions she lead me inside, introduced me to other people and offered me coffee, then let me explore the amazing space on my own. It was an experience, four stories of white walls with perfect natural lighting to see the huge beautifully textured and colourful canvasses, drawings, sculptures etc. She is a business woman with big visions.

I have found out about a small frame shop not far from here, selling art materials. As soon as I can I am going to buy stuff and get starting with my own art again. I cannot wait for my own stuff to arrive from SA.



Shopping here is .. different. Not at all so user friendly as in SA. Our groceries shops come close to the Tweedy “Everything shop”. Nick says it reminds him of what shops were like in his childhood in Zambia. Most of the shops are run by Lebanese and most of the brands on the shelves are Lebanese. There is hope in sight and the entire expat community as well as some Nigerians is waiting impatiently for South Africa’s Shoprite and Game to arrive… maybe next year. You can already get the two shops in Lagos and it is a must when anybody goes to Lagos.



We came home yesterday (Saturday) evening at about 9h30 after our hike and dinner, to find that our electricity was off. All the other flats had electricity and we could find nothing wrong on the electrical board. Frustrated Nick phoned the caretaker/manager to complain and we had a shower in the dark and went to bed, not expecting anything. Just to be woken up with the arrival of the electrician to come and fix the fault …10.30pm on a Saturday nigh!!!. There are surprises in Nigeria.



There are so much more to tell but that is for a next letter. We miss you all a lot and believe me good old South Africa looks more and more like paradise. Appreciate it!!

First days

04.01.2010




We have been in Abuja now for 4 days and we are clapped. I don’t quite know why because we have all the mod cons at our disposal: a luxury suit at the Protea hotel with two toilets and two TV’s, a chauffeur cum guide who can take us anywhere and do the haggling and in general make life a lot easier and I have spoken more Afrikaans than I ever spoke in KZNatal.

It became a bit easier for me once I managed to source a map of the town at the Sheraton Hotel at a price, hold your breath R170 (About 24USD) and it is not a book, just a flat map. Everything is incredibly expensive here. A simple one course meal for the two of us cost about R600, a load of washing (4days clothes) was R500.



The town is in the throws of the dry scorching heat with a blanket of dust from the dessert. Unlike mist this blanket does not keep the sun out and it is very hot and everything is in a white haze. Even though the city (more like a town) has broad boulevards with lots of trees it looks washed out because whatever grass there must have been before, is wiped out and looks dryer than a Jhb winter. The rain season was suppose to be here already and asking people if that brings relief you get different answers. Apparently the first rain is an acid rain that does not make your skin feel good, but on the other hand they say an oncoming storm is a magnificent experience.



Some parts of the town reminds one of Rosebank with its big houses, high walls and treelined streets and then in other places it looks neglected and even abandoned. The capital is not even 2 decades old, although is the planning stage from about the seventies, an enormous amount of building has and is being done.



The Nigerians are friendly, humble people (the ordinary ones, not the druglords we encounter in SA). Most of them seem to have a hard struggle to make a living. The country should have been one of the richest countries in Africa but a combination of greed and incompetency has drained it. Their politics looks a bit like a circus of pompous parading. Their education is a joke if not very sad. In the newspaper I read that only 2 percent of the school leavers who wrote their final exams last year passed, (private schools included) and that in spite of a huge amount of cheating.



South Africans who have lived here for a while say they feel much safer here than in South Africa and even in the 4 days we have been here I never felt threatened or even been looked at strangely because my skin is white and there are not many white skins here.