“Good Evening Sister” 2

Among the boys who live near my own compound is an even smaller boy called Sunday. He has copied the older boys’ greeting of ‘Good evening sister!’, but his version sounds like this:

“Gu eeeyee si ta!”

I want to eat him he’s so cute!

What a package!

I am truly privileged! First my 4 incredible xmas parcels from most excellent of friends and family, and now this – an inbetween xmas & easter bumper parcel!
Giant pants, long fluffy monkey socks, exploded cream eggs, chocolate chocolate and more chocolate (mini-eggs - oh sweet heaven!), a Frisbee, hand cream, rocket balloons (I always seem to succeed only in blowing up my own head rather than the balloon)…….. what a package!

Most amusing was the customs officer’s face when I opened it for his perusal at the post office. ‘But what is this?” he asked, handling the Frisbee. I wondered – are Frisbees forbidden items? I didn’t think so, but how to explain? ‘It’s a game. You throw it’. ‘Crazy odd oyibo’ said custom man’s eyebrows as they rose to meet his hairline.

One glimpse of the giant pants and he’d seen enough. ‘It’s ok, it’s ok. Close it now….’

Yet Another Pest...

It was the usual morning shouting waking me out of my zzzzz, nothing out of the ordinary, but all of a sudden my mind was alert. Someone was running. Two people were running. There was a scrabbling and a bash at my door, and I could see a small shadow scurrying back and forth.

“Aunty Kate! Don’t open your door-o!”
“Ah! Why what’s happening?” I was thinking the recent rain brought back the frogs and my neighbours were kindly trying to stop it coming in.
“Don’t open your door!” scrabble bash scrabble
“Auntie Kate! Open your door, open your door, it’s entered inside!”
“What has?!”
“It’s a RAT!”
“EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Why these things insist on happening when I’m semi dressed I don’t know, but it was an interesting start to the day: me jumping from bed to chair and back wearing big yellow pants with a donkey on the front and my two neigbours, bums in the air, bashing around my room with brooms!

Na Wow! Rain fall-o!

Na wow! Plenty rain fall for Kubwa today-o!

The sky looked thunderous, but I didn’t believe it would actually break on our heads. Rita and I were on the way home, when suddenly she looked behind, yelled and started to run. I dared a glimpse backwards and saw the rain literally hammering along the path towards us. I don't think I've ever been chased down a path by rain before!

Big fat juicy rain.

It were brill! A real tropical downpour: turning the path into a swirling torrent in seconds. Afterwards the air was so cool and refreshing. The place actually looked beautiful. With all the harmattan dust washed away I even saw rocks and hills I never knew existed!

The weather here is behaving oddly. It’s not supposed to rain until April, but it has. It’s not supposed to be this hot yet, but it is (40degrees in Abuja recently).

Curiouser and curiouser....

And now someone has informed me that the real hot spell is still to come. Oh wilt...

Fire! Fire!

Yesterday I decided to make a stew. I had the usual wide range of ingredients: tomato, onion and a big red pepper. With little else to do in the afternoon I meticulously chopped and sliced each item into small small pieces. After cooking, I set my stew to the side, not yet hungry enough to enjoy such a rich feast.

It was about 20minutes later that the burning started. In my nose! Not far up, but just round the edge. “What’s this?” I thought to myself. I wasn’t sure but I did know that I needed to do something. I snorted some water, but to no avail, the flames licked my nostrils. Soon, I noticed a tingling in my thumb, spreading from underneath my fingernail. I licked it and my tongue fizzed.

I set my mind to work. It could only be one culprit. The shiny red pepper was in fact a GIANT PEPPE! The scoundrel is the African equivalent of a chili and I had been chopping it with gay abandon, its juices sliding freely under my nails.

I managed to douse the fire before my nose turned to cinders but my thumbs are still burning!

Some Days.....

You feel a bit blue.

The Zero 7 album you listen to brings a tear to your eye. The smell of the Shield soap that you brought from home makes you blub. There's a dying cockroach wriggling upside down in your shower. You've heard great news from home but MTN is not letting you get in touch. A picture of your favourite people has fallen off the wall, and it's fallen in gecko poo. You miss your friends and just want a hug.

Today is one of those days.

Poo Bum.

Goliath had a brother

Goliath's brother, Hercules, came to visit my bathroom. With no male neighbours around I rolled up my sleeves and prepared for mortal combat. Armed with my can of Raid Insect Spray I arranged myself in the standing sprint start position, arm out straight behind me. I took aim, and I fired. Almost as if he pre-empted the attack Hercules took flight - straight at my head. Not being made of strong fighting fibre I fled from the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. There followed a thud then a scrabbling as the Hercules hit the door. "Lucky escape" I thought, "Phewf! He'll be gassed inside and I'll just have to collect the body".

Alas, Hercules is a member of a species that has not been affected by evolution, has not changed for millions of years. He was not going to give up easily. He was hunting. Smelling my fear he made light work of defeating my door barrier, crawling through a gap I never knew existed (he'd obviously been casing the joint), and I swear he gave me an exceedingly menacing look. I squealed, more loudly than I had intended, for my neighbours heard me - "Auntie Kate! Wetin happen?!" They tried to enter my room, but it was locked. I was only in my underwear so was reluctant to open.

I hopped from foot to foot: get dressed? let them in? get the cockroach? OH GOD WHERE IS IT?? I needed back up, and fast.

Thank goodness for no-nonsense African women who can calmly broom-bash an angry flying tank without squealing and squirming in panic.

Fish n Chips

There is a great place here for fantastic fish and chips. Mogadishu Barracks nestles at the side of a crowded road leading out of Abuja.

Upon finally succeeding to find a parking space inside the soldiered gates of the barracks you have to squeeze through a gap in a ring of shops, minding the humming generators, overhead wires and holes in the floor. Once inside, in the soft yellow light made murky from the dust and smoke, you can make out a giant circle of bush bars. In the centre are many BBQ's with whole fish sizzling on top. The atmosphere is relaxed and jovial, with people just chilling out and catching up at the end of a busy day.

When you've selected the best fish, and bartered the price, you can sit at any of the plastic tables and enjoy a cool drink. A bowl of water will be brought to you with some washing up liquid to wash your hands. Using your hands is the best way to eat fish I think - at least you can filter out most of the bones before they impale your throat.

Without fail, every time I've been, we've been serenaded by a guy with a guitar. His repertoire consists of classics such as 'Welcome to the Hotel California' and a couple of Bob Marley hits. With some kind of trilby/cowboy hat perched on his head, he's so cheery that he provides great entertainment even if his singing is phenomenally bad.

Last time we were at the barracks Nigeria was playing Ghana in the African Cup of Nations. The celebrations at each goal were great to see - one style I particularly favoured was a man dancing in circles like a chicken with his plastic chair still attached to his arse. Great stuff.

Always a jolly good evening to be had at Mogadishu Barracks!