The Delicacies of Nigerian Society

Boss: ‘I need to go somewhere. Are you free now?’
Driver: ‘No sir. I’m going to sh*t’

Greetings

You know how in England people keep themselves to themselves? How two people passing in an empty corridor pretend not to see each other? How when someone is in the middle of something they might not look up to say hello to someone passing by?

Nigeria is not like that. Greeting is essential. No matter what the situation.

Yesterday, on my way through the clinic I passed a lady in labour; ‘Good Morning! How today?’ she called to me through only slightly gritted teeth.

"Sannu!"

‘Sannu’ is by far the best word in the Hausa language. Not only is it a hello-like greeting, but also a very useful tool for filling (commonly frequent) gaps in conversation; indeed, combined with a few deep bellied noises, it could almost comprise the entire conversation:

Me: Sannu!
You: Eaa. Sannu!
Me: Yauwaaa….

(pause)

You: Sannu… Sannu?
Me: Eeee, sannu.
You: oooorrrr.

(pause)

Me: Sannu?
You: eaaaa. Yauwaaaa….
Me: Sannu
You: Sannu.

Communication

No landline. (strike)
No mobile. (no excuse)
No internet. (or at least abominably slow)
But hurrah for snail mail! I just received two letters posted 2 weeks ago – not bad!

White Monster

I’m wondering how I should feel when I repeatedly hear parents threaten their misbehaving children as I pass by; ‘See oyibo, she go give you injection-o’.

I’m not sure I like being portrayed as a raving white beast that patrols around injecting small innocent children for fun….

‘Quickly! There’s a storm brewing!’

We’d survived one crossing of the lake in a borrowed fishing canoe (with a few long minutes of going nowhere fast, in circles) and enjoyed a nice picnic, this time with quality home-made hamburgers AND mayonnaise (mmmmm); now, with rumbles of thunder approaching, it was time to make a hasty retreat back across to safety.

Slight problem. Our boats have sunk. Instead of bobbing gently at the shore, our boats now nestled onto the bilharzia filled, sandy lake bottom.


Fifteen minutes of baling later, the boats were more-or-less floating, and the storm was a km or two closer. The air was tense as we set off. One boat, nervous of the crossing, over-rode the amateur paddler and headed bang back into the shore. With the assistance of a local fisherman, the boat was coaxed back in the right direction, and our little fleet began to glide to the centre of the lake.

Paddle paddle paddle. Bale bale bale bale. Paddle bale bale BALE!

Despite the fountains that had sprung up in the sides of the boats, threatening to out-speed the baler (me) we made it across.

Think the British Clinic will experience a mini-rush on requests for bilharzia tests once the wormies get a chance to develop….

Roadworks 2

The roadworks on the express-way to Abuja have resumed. Evidently they got more money for the project; as pipes are now on display at the roadside, and, they've updated their signs....

To replace the previous 'Men at Work' signs written in dripping paint on scrap wood, they now have brand new, spangling, bright yellow, glossy signs that, in vibrant bold red, proudly state........

"Men At Working"

!!!!!!

Gurara Falls

Yesterday Alex (Argentinean), Marebec (Filipino), Dave (Irish), Aurelie (French), Eva (Spanish) and I (English) - oh what a multicultural bunch! - went to Gurara Falls again. It was lovely – much more water than last time I went during dry season, and actually a rather more opaque brown colour too! But it was still refreshing to paddle around in the shores, minding the current that could whip you down stream rather too rapidly.

We ate hamburgers, made by Alex, and barbecued by Alex. Only problem was that apart from egg, he forgot to add any tasty ingredients so it was a little like eating mashed cow.

It was a really lovely day. The only upsetting part was seeing a chameleon get run over on the road on the way there.

Back in Abuja we went to a life camp for some French construction company, to enjoy a drink and watch a drunk Frenchman throw a dog into the swimming pool.