Sai wata rana

As most of you know by now, I’m HOME! And thought it was about time to write a bit about Nigeria, the elections and how I feel about being home.

My last few weeks in Nigeria were pretty hectic, hence the supreme lack of blogging. I had a lovely good bye party from Hope for the Village Child, and the VSOs, friends and neighbours gave me a great farewell at Sea Breeze, our local bar. Then I packed up and travelled over land to Ghana with Richard another volunteer based in Lafia, who has conveniently written a fairly detailed blog of our trip, meaning I don’t have to! See www.monkeyatemyfish.com

With my HVC colleagues on my last day.

It feels really good to be home, the reverse culture shock hasn’t been as bad as I’d prepared myself for, supermarkets and crowded bars are still a bit overwhelming, but I’m generally enjoying London living again. 

There are a few things that I’ve found new and exciting at home: kettles with upwards on switches (just weird), Crabbies ginger beer (amazing), Groupon (a bit confusing), and some amazing life changes, friends have bought houses, got engaged and have new jobs.

I’ve managed to get some temporary work in my old department at the Red Cross, which is great, and I’m enjoying the double takes I get from people who thought I was still in Nigeria.  

The Nigerian elections...

Some of you will have heard about the violence which hit Northern Nigeria during the election, when Goodluck Jonathon was reelected. Some groups in the north of Nigeria rioted claiming the northern Muslim candidate Buhari should have been the president, to continue the north/south power sharing agreement of the main political party the PDP. There are estimates that up to 500 people died, and Kaduna was one of the worst affected areas.  Our colleague, Shuaibu, the driver at Hope for the Village Child lost his house, and other colleagues struggled to get home through mobs running street patrols, burning tyres and attacking people. There was an almost immediate 24 hour curfew, and the VSO volunteers were evacuated a couple of days later, but the curfew was still on a month later, and people’s lives cannot be repaired easily. The sad part is that the violence affected the poorest people the most, those who lack opportunities, employment and money and have nothing to lose and so turn on their neighbours who have just as little. The destruction is heart breaking, and it wasn’t just in Kaduna, it happened in Kano, Bauchi and across the north. There’s not much I can really write about it, except to express optimism, that the elections were widely considered the freest and fairest in since Nigeria became a democracy again in 1999, and hope that the people affected will get help to rebuild their lives.

Writing this blog, reflecting on the last year, looking at my photos, and reading the blogs of VSOs still in Nigeria, has made me realise how much I miss it. The year was an incredible experience, challenging, inspiring and overwhelming at all times. I made some amazing friends, who I miss a lot, learnt a hell of a lot about the challenges faced by NGOs working in developing countries, and was exactly where I hoped I’d be, in a passionate organisation that is really making a difference to the lives of isolated rural communities.

My connection with Hope for the Village Child and Kaduna doesn’t end there, I’m now a trustee of Hope for the African Village Child, the British partner charity of HVC. This way I’ll be able to help HVC through fundraising in the future! Recently I lived on £1 a day for five days to raise money for HAVC, and if you’d like to sponsor me, and support HVC’s work with communities who face difficulties accessing health care, education and overcoming poverty in Nigeria, your donations would be very greatly appreciated through:  http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/charities/hopeforafricanvillagechild

Thanks for reading for the last year, and for your support, in Nigeria and at home.

Sai wata rana. 

A few outfits

Part of the joy of living in Nigeria is the ability to design (or in my case attempt to design) your own clothes. There are small tailors workshops on every street, and fabric can be bought in even the tiniest market for as little as £4. The colours and prints range from bold bright traditional West African prints, to more subtle colours and designs. The cheapest fabric, sold in six or twelve yards amounts called wrappers, is made in China and the most expensive is Dutch. To get a top and skirt made with a head tie to match is usually around £4, and small dresses just £3, who needs Primark.

I was so taken aback by the colours, designs and quantity of fabric available when I first arrived that I found it difficult to choose fabrics that suited me, and would go for the boldest and brightest patterns which caught my eye. More recently I've been trying to get things made which I can wear at home, so I've moved on to more subtle colours and simpler patterns.

My tailor,the talented Doris. No your eyes do not deceive
you, that is a singer sewing machine.

Here are a selection of my outfits, some are staying in Nigeria, and others making the long journey home with me.... please excuse my inability to arrange them properly.

Akwei malaria

When I arrived in Nigeria, I was told about a volunteer in Lagos who'd had malaria six times. I was astonished, and wondered how on earth someone could be so careless, surely they must not be using a mosquito net and never wearing mosquito repellent, let alone taking anti malarial tablets.

On Monday I equalled her record. And yes I sleep under a mosquito net, wear mosquito repellent in the evenings and take doxyclicline as an anti malarial. Yet Richard, who lived in the same house, and took far fewer precautions than I do, didn't get malaria once.Some people just seem more prone to malaria than others, I'm O positive, if that helps anyone with their blood type theories on malaria susceptibility.

It's not a pleasant experience, but not really as awful as the word malaria makes you imagine. I usually start by feeling fragile, often with a fever, or exhaustion or aches and pains, just like flu. With the worst bout I woke up at 3am with vomiting and diarrhoea, and the mildest, I just felt fuzzy so went for a test at work, lucky for me Hope for the Village Child has a clinic on site. More recently I've been going to the VSO's partner hospital in Kaduna where I'll be immediately seen by a doctor, but then have to wait 1.5 hours for the blood test results to confirm malaria. I've never been not diagnosed, which almost tempts me to self medicate.

Malaria comes in different levels, I usually get plus one, which is very mild, but a child once came into the HVC clinic recently with plus four malaria, and if he hadn't received treatment could have died. It's a serious disease, worst for those who cannot afford the drugs or mosquito nets which they need to prevent it, a mild flu for the rest, yet still six times in a year is enough for me. Time to go home. .  

 

A poem

As my last post was so extensive I held back on including my wonderful poem from secret santa, but thought I'd add it in as I think it's a work of poetic genius. In the Dutch tradition each present came with a poem, whose author should remain nameless, but my secret santa gave the game away a bit here...

Nobody leave the room,
Everyone listen to me
There is a young lady here called Heather,
Who is a good friend to me.

I first me her on the streets,
She was showing a friend the sights,
We then went to Sea Breeze,
Drank Harp and enjoyed the night.

She fell in love in Nigeria,
To an English man,
They braved the floods together,
He left in harmattan.

The amazing Kano Durbar,
Was really lots of fun,
Sanusi's village, horse parades, Government House,
All under the hot sun.

A dangerous journey to Dutse,
Her parents bravely made,
To relax and enjoy The Palace,
And the police station in the shade!

We shared a bed at Chida,
Heather finally met our team,
I stole her croissants for breakfast,
Then left her with her hangover and dreams.

And last but obviously not least,
Obudu, Afi and Calabar,
A Christmas holiday of a lifetime,
Arranged by Heather - what a star!

Heather is leaving soon,
And that makes me sad,
If it was somebody else,
It wouldn't be so bad!

With my English man, Richard.

We're all going on a, Christmas holiday

Happy New Year! And happy harmattan, currently in Kaduna it's averaging a chilly 21 degrees in the shade, and my colleagues are wearing ski jackets, hats and gloves to fight off the “cold”. Although a hardy Brit, even I can’t cope with the cold and have found myself wishing I had some socks and shoes instead of only one pair of sandals!

I arrived back in Kaduna last weekend, after an incredible Christmas and New Year travelling in southern Nigeria and Cameroon. I traveled with eight volunteers over the three weeks, five of us set off from Abuja on our way to Lafia, adventure number one, get five people in a VW golf, without paying too high an oyibo/pre Christmas price, and without mishap. Done. Three hours later we arrived in Lafia, and were treated to an incredible Indian meal by Teddy and Shreela, and Richard III even gave up his bed to me and Lucy, what a gent!

The next day the serious adventures began, as we headed to Makurdi, and from there got a bush taxi to Obudu town, from where our host, Abebe, had arranged a car to take us to our destination, Obudu Cattle Ranch.

Ready for the journey to Obudu.

Abebe's lodge is the poor man's cattle ranch accommodation, for an affordable 5,500 naira (£26) per night, we could stay right next to the cattle ranch proper, where rooms are a staggering 20,000 naira per night! Abebe's Lodge, for those who are interested can be called on 08036242192. Here our food was 300 naira a plate, instead of 3,000, and even the very questionable bush meat we were served came in a decent egusi stew. The only downside was the our hot water on the first night, which had to be heated on a wood fire, took about 3 hours to arrive.

Obudu cattle ranch is famous across Nigeria as a place of outstanding natural beauty, it’s high up on a plateau, which makes the temperature cool and refreshing. So refreshing that for the first time in Nigeria, I was cold!

The hut I stayed in at Afi.

 Whilst at Obudu, we visited the first of two canopy walkways, took a demanding trek down to a waterfall, and to a mountain view point, from where we could see Cameroon, it looked just like Nigeria! The cable car, fyi, is closed on Tuesdays for maintenance, although of course no one mentioned this to us on Monday. But on our departure we were able to take a trip down in the cable car to the water park, slides included, before we set off to Afi.

Our next stop was Afi drill monkey sanctuary, deep in the rainforest in Cross River state, which has the largest population of captive drill monkeys in the world. All rescued from the bush meat trade, which is an incredibly lucrative business in Nigeria and West Africa, chimp meat was described to us as ‘sweet’ by people we met in Cameroon. The accommodation at Afi is huts in the forest, surrounding by mosquito netting. The sounds of the jungle lull you to sleep, and screaming chimps and drills wake you up bright and early. 

The phone eating toilet at Afi.

The toilet facilities are reminiscent of Glastonbury, long drop toilets without the barrier to stop your own wee coming back at you, leading to much contortion on the part of ladies without a she wee. Just like the loos at glasto, these toilets eat mobile phones. Beth’s phone was a victim on our first day, and each morning the alarm went off at 7am, despite being immersed in 10 feet of poo!  

Secret santa/sinterklaas.

At Afi we were treated to another, much more impressive canopy walkway, high up in the trees, followed by another waterfall (have you spotted the pattern yet?).

Christmas day was spent in the village of Akpap Okoyong, also in Cross River state, home of the famous missionary Mary Slessor, and VSO Sarah! Secret santa got me a wonderful necklace and earrings, and in honour of Sarah, the Dutch vso, everyone had written each other a poem in the Dutch sinterklaas tradition. Later we had a delightful dinner of fish and chips around 11pm, after not really realizing that the fish weren’t gutted, and in true Nigerian style, running out of water mid preparation. I just peeled spuds, so couldn’t claim any credit at all.

Calabar carnival was mildly entertaining, not quite as efficiently organized as Notting Hill, with the police’s preferred method of crowd control being whips and sticks, there were some pretty good costumes though!  

Calabar carnival.

We crossed over to Cameroon by ferry, told to arrive at 4am at the port, and turned up at 5, only to wait until 9 for the ferry to leave. Standard practice. We were interviewed by ‘Femi’ the friendly local Nigerian secret service agent, who wanted to know where we worked, names of our employers, and what we were doing in Nigeria, and then wangled us an upgrade to 1^st class!

Mt Cameroon, obligatory summit victory photo.

Our first stop in Limbe was delicious grilled fish and plantain on the sea front, followed by the trip to Buea, at the base of Mount Cameroon.

Exhausted walking through a volcanic
crater late on day 2, yes, that's me, the old man. With the stick.

The trek up and down Mount Cameroon, West Africa's highest mountain, at 4,095 metres, took three days. We trekked for six hours the first day, eleven the next, and seven on the last day. It's an active volcano, which last erupted in 2000, and we walked through craters, and across lava flows, with the smell of sulphur in the air. The view was worth the walk, although it was exhausting, we were lucky none of us suffered from altitude sickness. George, our guide had claimed he didn’t think Emily would make It up the mountain, being so ‘heavy’, she proved him very wrong! Thereafter any sentence beginning ‘George said… ‘ was discounted. It turned out to be me who suffered the most on the way down, and I blame it all on this terrible blister. Sympathy please, not expressions of disgust.

 

We got back down to Limbe in time for New Years Eve, and stayed in the definitely disheveled Atlantic Beach Hotel, with an incredible view from our balcony. In true vso style we fitted four in a room and made the most of the pool to clean off the volcanic ash from mount Cameroon, and flooded the bathroom. They loved us. New Years eve in Limbe consisted of amazing pizza at Emilia’s pizza place - not the real name, and beer at the street side bar, Las Vegas, where new years eve was announced on true African time, about five minutes late!

After two days on the volcanic ash beaches at Limbe, Emily and Karen went back to Nigeria, whilst Rich III and I headed down south to Kribi, home of white sand beaches and one of few waterfalls in the world which flows directly into the sea, and lots more fish and beer. Cameroonians drink more beer per head than any other African country.