Don't Discuss Religion. Ever.

I remember writing those words a few weeks back the motivation behind them being that religion is a sensitive issue here as in most parts of the world and, at the time, I had every intention of sticking to it. Of course, I had also assumed that Lagos, a huge city in the far South of Nigeria, would be extremely different from Sabon Guida, my rural village in Southern Niger where, as the result of a heavy Islamic influence, there is hardly a conversation that goes by without some reference to God, giving thanks to God, God blessing you, God giving you something, God doing something, God willing something, or anyone doing any number of things "in God's name." Their stance on religion is tightly woven into the fabric of their language and thus cannot be separated from their daily lives. Try as one might to avoid the "controversy" surrounding religion, you simply can't avoid it, and, without realizing it, slowly it becomes a some-what natural thing to speak about God all day everyday even for someone, like me, who isn't very religious.

An example of this is an average conversation in Sabon Guida that would go something like this (I have translated for the benefit of those of my readers who do not speak Hausa):

Me: (attempting to enter a house- a nice substitute for knocking) Peace be with you.
Villager: And also with you (this is the signal that I am allowed to enter).
Me: Did you wake in health?
Villager: In health, thanks be to God.
Me: How is your family?
Villager: In health, thanks be to God.
Me: How is your work?
Villager: One thanks God for the work.
Me: Are you planning to come into work today?
Villager: If God wills it.
Me: No, I'm asking you if you're going to come to work today.
Villager: If God wills it.
Me: (Getting frustrated) At what time, if God wills it?
Villager: At 12 o'clock, if God wills it.
Me: ....Alright. (realizing that this could mean anytime between 12 noon and never).
Villager: May God give you patience.
Me: Amen.


Did you catch all the references to God and religion? In case you missed it, I highlighted every religion-based comment in bold.

However, this is a heavily Muslim village in a heavily Muslim country (roughly 99%) we're talking about here. It seems somehow normal that religion would be such an unavoidable, important part of daily life. There's a very low chance anyone would be offended as, of course, nearly everyone practices the same religion. Of course, there would be no way a city as heavily populated, culturally diverse, and commercial as Lagos would be so overtly religious on a day-to-day basis, right? Wrong.


Although I've never spent much time in the Bible belt of the good ol' USA (thank God... haha), living in Lagos is what I imagine its like to live in Texas: Mega-churches on every corner, at-work prayer sessions, Christian rock and pop-based worship songs blaring from the radio, preaching street people, and, yeah, even BIG hair (not a religious thing, I know but still important).

True, religion isn't woven into the language here in Lagos but, looking back on it, as an outsider, I almost prefer that style of religion more. When religion is part of the language, hearing people speak about God and religion all the time seems like such a natural thing. Similar to the way Americans automatically say "fine" when a stranger asks how they're doing, Hausa people (the predominantly Muslim tribe in both Niger and Nigeria) automatically bring God into their conversation. Instead of saying "fine," they give thanks to God.

Here in Lagos however, it seems as though people look for an opportunity to throw religion into the mix; They define themselves by their religious involvements, they carry their bibles with them to work, they pray openly (and sometimes disruptively) in public, and they take great joy in the 4-8 hours they spend at their church every Sunday... and then telling others about it.

For example, when working on a brochure to advertise one of the businesses I'm currently working for, one of my supervisors was asked to submit a small, 2-sentence paragraph high-lighting what he would want people to know about him (in American terms, a "Bio") to be included in the brochure. Within those 2 sentences, he highlighted attending church and leading a bible fellowship.

At this point, I  want to interject that I'm not trying to say any of this is "wrong." What I'm saying is, its just taking some adjusting to.... and, yeah, I guess I'll also admit that I'm finding it a little unnerving.

Of course, its only "unnerving" by the Western- American standard... which essentially means anyone West of Texas.  And, of course, I say this in a ridiculously general sort of way because even in those relatively religiously- liberal Western states, there are large pockets of heavily religious people (Mormons, anyone?). I suppose the difference is that, even though I know there are deeply religious people in the US, I don't expect to walk into work on Monday morning to find my co-workers holding hands and praying loudly. Its simply not the "done" thing in the American workplace.... or most public places for that matter. The absence of overt religion in daily life does not mean that Americans aren't religious, it just means that we're highly aware of the potential controversy of bringing our personal religious beliefs into an average conversation and so, rather than risk offending someone, we keep it to ourselves. Interestingly enough though, religion has also been carefully woven into the fabric of our daily lives (i.e."In God We Trust") so that, in a way, we DO get to bring religion into everything without actually "bringing religion into everything."

But I digress.

The point I'm trying to make is that in Lagos, Nigeria as in Sabon Guida, Niger, it is difficult to avoid coming into extreme contact with religion.

As an example of this, here is an approximate recreation of a conversation I had today at work:

One of my bosses at one of my many jobs asked me how my weekend was.
I said it was relaxing. Thanks for asking.
She then asked me, without pause, "Did you go to church?"
"No." I honestly replied. (Notice how I didn't go into detail. I'm not supposed to be discussing religion, remember?)
"Are you Christian?" she pressed me
"...Uh.. yes, I guess. I mean, I'm Methodist but I believe in a lot of other religions as well so...um... yeah" (Here, as you can see, I'm not used to discussing my religious beliefs at work let alone with a superior so, clearly, I'm fumbling for the right words to say.)
"But," she continued "if you're a Christian, you're supposed to go to church." (Talk about an awkward conversation)
"Uh..um... yes.. well, I do go to church but usually only on Christmas and Easter"
"Why?" -my boss asks, pressing further still
"Well...." I pause trying to find a politically correct way to say 'I don't really like going to church every Sunday' without actually saying it "... I guess I... uh... I get busy on the weekends."
"Well, now that you're in Nigeria, your weekends aren't as busy. Would you like me to take you to church?" - my boss offers.
"Uh...well... um... isn't church here in Nigeria, like, 8 hours long?"
"Ak! No!" she exclaims "I go to church for 3 hours. But I go to a Pentecostal church so its mostly singing and dancing and praising the Lord" - she informs me
.....
At this point, without trying to offend anyone, I have to admit that churches where people sing and dance and wave their hands in the air and "talk in tongues" make me the MOST uncomfortable. Its just SO much to take in... and very, very overwhelming especially for someone, like myself, who enjoys going to church every once-in-a-while just to be in a calm, quiet, peaceful setting.
.....

"Uh..." I say, stalling "Maybe on Easter Sunday"
"Ak!" She says, clearly not satisfied with my answer, "There are so many Sundays between now and Easter. Why don't you come with me this Sunday?"
"Umm.... well, uh, that's very nice of you to offer but...um... I think I might be busy this weekend" - This is not entirely false as we do have tentative plans to spend all of next weekend in the "nice," Victoria Island part of town.
Giving me a skeptical look she says "Ok. But you let me know when you're not busy and I'll take you to church."
"Thanks" I say, breathing a sigh of relief that the conversation is over. ...Oh...but wait... it isn't over yet.
"I suppose," she says, clearly trying to come to terms with my lack of church-going enthusiasm, "If you don't go to church, you can still have a relationship with God if you read your Bible" (as she says this, she picks up the Bible on her desk for emphasis.)
"Uh...yeah..." I say, not wanting to admit that my Bible is on my bookshelf at home in the US where it has been for about 6 years. I'm also hoping she doesn't press me further. ...Too bad... she does.
"You DO have a Bible, right?"
"Um... yes. But its at home" - at this point I'm hoping she thinks "home" just means "not at work." Nope. Tough luck.
"You mean in America?!" - she is incredulous "Why didn't you bring it with you?!"
"Well... I guess because I don't really read it all that much"
"What?! How can you talk to God without the Bible?!" Oh jeeze... Isn't this conversation over yet?
"I guess I just find a quiet time when I need to" - yes, this is a vague answer but my religious beliefs are pretty vague too and, oh yeah, I'm not supposed to be discussing religion.
"How do you remember the stories?!"
"Uh... I guess I just do."
She gives me an incredulous look, clearly not sure what to do with me.
"Well," she says finally, "you can borrow my Bible if you ever want to read the stories again."
"Thanks." I say and then, before she can push me further I ask "Are you sure there isn't a project I can help you with?"

- End of Scene-

So it seems that, despite my best efforts to not discuss religion (ever.), it is something that is difficult to avoid altogether. Its very much a part of daily life.

In closing, I would like to say that Nigerians are wonderfully welcoming people...they just happen to be very openly religious too. And, of course, it doesn't seem to be that anyone is going out of their way to make me feel uncomfortable. In fact, on the contrary, any discomfort is purely my own which I suppose stems from my own American cultural bias that reminds me at every turn that religion is a taboo subject that should simply not be discussed. Ever.

Sunday Market: A Photo Essay

On the lighter side, internet connection permitting, here is an attempted photo-essay/ short-story-with-pictures about a Sunday Market in Lagos:

Inside the banana leaves (basket, top left), there's some sort of rice-meat mixture
.... I hear its tasty... 

Red bell peppers and tomatoes as far as the eye can see

Some of the many Large African Land Snail* baskets at the market
(*might not be their scientific name). Once sold, these poor, cute little guys are shucked (like oysters) and sold ... to be eaten...(if that wasn't clear.)

A Large African Land Snail* (*still not sure if this is the scientific name)
makes a break for it. Go, little guy, go!... Too bad snails aren't known for
their speed.

Christine befriends the escape artist... simultaneously proving how BIG the
Large African Land Snail* really is (*maybe I'll just re-name the species)

Its not lettuce, its not spinach, and its not kale... It IS, however, a leafy-green
substance used for cooking in some Nigerian dishes. I think it comes from a tree.

These disgusting, putrid things are one of the key ingredients of draw soup.
As I predicted, they ARE fish that have been left in the sun all day (I have no
idea why they're arranged eating their own tails.. must be a tradition).
Still not sure if cooking involves sewage but you never know.

The market butcher dissects (what I'm told is) a cow. How many internal organs
can YOU identify?

These lovely red nuts/seeds are pressed to make palm oil which is a staple
for cooking most Nigerian food. (I'm also told its high in cholesterol, FYI.)

In amongst the multiple bunches of plantains, countless baskets
of snails, and stacks of putrid, coiled fish, behold the one woman in the entire
market smart enough to diversify and sell shrimp. 

As the above photos indicate, a Sunday Market is a colorful, vibrant place. It is also the kind of place where people get really up close and personal with their food. Although I am by no means converting to vegetarianism, it is a difficult thing for an American to watch "dinner" being chosen (alive) and then hacked to death (almost dead) before being dismembered (definitely dead) and given to you in a plastic bag. The hardest thing for me was watching the poor rooster meet its sad end. I swear to you, it cried out for help. Of course, the vendors (most of them women) were very amused at my fear/disgust/sympathy for the rooster and asked us where we thought our food came from. As Christine so aptly put it:


"We're Americans. I know where our food comes from... it comes packaged in plastic."

After our market adventure, Mrs. "L" (our Nigerian "mom"/ friend) took us back to her house and showed us how to prepare, cook, and...eventually...eat snails (of the Large, African Land variety). I wouldn't call it my favorite dish, but it wasn't the worse thing ever. A little tough to chew... Certainly better than draw soup. I'm told they're good for lowering blood pressure. I guess the debate then becomes: "Which is easier to swallow: a giant blood pressure pill (western medicine style) or a Large (rubbery) African Land Snail?"

Maybe my Grandma will be game enough to test it out and let us know..... :)

Serve and Protect: A Story of a Nigerian Police State

While I am trying to go against the general world opinion of Nigeria and focus on the positive things about this country that most people like to overlook, there are occasions and events that prompt me to confirm some of the less-than-nice ideas that some may have of this particular African state.

One such idea: An increasingly corrupt police force.

Exhibit A:
This last Thursday, my supervisor, Wole, was kind enough to take me and my co-intern Cynthia to one of the central markets in Lagos - "Computer Village" - to sort out some issues we have been having activating one of our many cell phone SIM cards. On our way there, we were turning a corner-  in a rather innocent and non-attention-worthy fashion, I might add - and a uniformed police officer who happened to be standing on the side of the road at that very corner signaled for us to pull over. Like the law-abiding citizen that he is, Wole pulled over and the officer stepped up to my window (the passenger's side of the car).

"Where is your license?" He demanded in a rather half-assed authoritative tone.

Wole opened the glove box and handed him a stack of papers containing not only his drivers license but a renewed "tax sticker" that is normally displayed on the passenger's side window. Despite seeing both of these items, the police officer pressed him further.

"Your sticker is expired" he said, tapping on the glass where the old sticker was still displayed on the front window.

Wole explained that, as the officer could clearly see, the renewal sticker was in the stack of papers in his hands.

"Ah, no" tsk'ed the officer. "I'm going to have to take you down to the station...."

Wole, clearly shocked, demanded to know why.

"Because you have an expired sticker here" said the officer tensely, is voice rising... I should mention, "here" sounded more like "eee-ah"... In fact, said in his accent, the whole sentence sounded something like this:
 "Bee-coawz, you 'ave an ex-pye-ah-d stee-ck-aah 'eeah"

Wole tartly replied with: "What for you goin' waste my time?"
(Which, I think, roughly translated into Americans means "Bullshit!")

To which the uniformed police officer said, clearly, "Pay me 1,000 Naira" (the equivalent of about $7).

Wole tsk'd in disgust "I have no money. I'm not goin' pay you"

And the officer stepped away from the car and on we went.

Now, don't get me wrong: I've lived in Africa before. I know bribery is a way of life... but I've never seen it so blatantly and so needlessly in action. In fact, I assumed it was one of those things reserved for occasions when some wrong had been committed - man slaughter, for example-  and both the police officer and potential bribe-r could benefit from a little money switching hands. Apparently this is not the case in Nigeria. Something else I had wrongly assumed was that no one would be so foolish as to openly solicit a bribe and that requests for money were veiled and hidden... particularly in the presence of westerners who, one half-intelligent police officer might assume, would have far less to lose in reporting their corrupt behavior than the average Nigerian citizen.  In fact, it is my impression that the presence of Westerners increases the likelihood that a Nigerian will be pressed to provide some money to the kind officers in charge of "serving and protecting" the Nigerian populace.

Here's why.... :

Exhibit B:
After being pulled over by Police Officer #1, we attended to our business of fixing our phones (which was another adventure I will have to recount another time), and then proceeded to drive in the direction of the nearest grocery store. On our way there, we encountered a congested intersection (annoyingly common in Lagos) where cars and motorcycle taxis were pressed against each other honking and attempting to inch forward, all jockeying for an improved position in line. Wole simply proceeded to obey what seems to be traffic law in Lagos: do as everyone else is doing. He inched forwards and attempted to encourage an opening in the gridlock by honking his horn and gesturing to the other drivers that he was trying to move through their line, not join it. As no one seemed interested in sacrificing their position in line to let him through, he turned his wheel slightly to instead join their line.

Immediately, there was yelling from the Police Stand at the side of the road. Apparently, we were in for a lesson on Lagos traffic law.

Our car was approached by not one but two uniformed police officers with batons, one of whom was a woman. The woman proceeded to yell at Wole in a high pitched shriek while waving her baton in the air. The man came to the passenger's side of the car and simultaneously tried to ask Wole if he was crazy. Keeping in mind... all of this is taking place in the middle of the intersection in the midst of the honking gridlock. After about 3 minutes of baton waving and shrieking, the lady cop starts getting really upset and claims Wole is not "respecting her." The man cop realizes we're all still in the middle of traffic and clears a path in the traffic so we can pull over to the side of the road. Lady Cop - fearful that the target of her baton-waving fury will escape her shrieking clutches - opens the back, driver's side door, gestures angrily for Cynthia to move over, and plops herself into the backseat behind Wole... still wildly waving her baton and yelling about respect.

Per Man Cop's wishes, we move through the wall of traffic with Lady Cop in the backseat, and stop on the side of the road. Once on the side of the road, Man Cop finds a pause between Lady Cop's angry screams and threats to demand Wole's drivers license which Wole produces from the glove box in addition to the paper with his renewed tax sticker. Still, despite having this documentation, there is another argument about expired stickers.

After roughly 5 minutes of Man Cop questioning Wole about his knowledge of traffic law and Lady Cop simultaneously screaming about respect (with the occasional "WACK" of the back of Wole's seat with her baton as if to emphasize her point), Man Cop suggests that we must now go to the Police Station so that he can issue a ticket for Wole's "outrageous traffic offense." So.... off we go.

Lady Cop seems to have screamed it all out of her system and instead spends the 2-minute ride down the road pouting in the backseat in silence as if she were the one about to receive a ticket for no real reason. Instead of going to a recognizable Police Station, Man Cop, who has since sauntered down the street, gestures for us to again pull over to the side of the road. Here Lady Cop starts up again, this time demanding an apology for Wole's apparent disrespect. Wole turns around in his seat, trying to face her, arguing about how unnecessary her screaming was and trying to submit that he had not, in fact, done anything disrespectful. Apparently, this was not the response Lady Cop was looking for and she began to yell again...at which point, Man Cop suggests that Wole's fine will increase due to his apparent insubordination and that he will most likely have to appear in court. Lady Cop screams that, if we were in "their" country (meaning America), Wole would be "begging for forgiveness." 

I'm sure you can predict what happens next.....

Yes, good guess. There's some back and forth about why Wole should have to go to court and then the uniformed police officer - Man Cop - clearly says:

 "Give me 10,000 Naira" (Roughly $67)

As before, Wole tells the officer he doesn't have any money. To which Man Cop calmly replies by asking:

"How much money do you have?'

Wole argues that, as he had previously said, he has no money. None. Zero.

This of course re-opens the discussion of how Wole will have to go to court and pay a large fine. To end the discussion, Wole suggests that he will happily go to court to contest the fine because, clearly, he didn't do anything wrong.

This prompts Man Cop to ask Wole to step out of the car where, Wole tells us later, he continues to ask Wole for more money until he is satisfied that Wole has nothing to give. He saunters off, returning to his Police stand and Lady Cop climbs out of the back seat in a huff having never received an apology.

Exhibit C
Two days after the above event, we were driving to the University of Lagos (UNILAG) campus for a Saturday afternoon meeting when we are stopped, yet again, by a traffic jam. This, in an of itself is not an unusual occurrence (it happens once every 5 minutes in Lagos) but, while most traffic jams are accompanied by a symphony of car horns, this one involved a great deal of shouting. When we finally made our way around an un-moving mini-van taxi, we see what the hold up is: A uniformed police officer has pulled a passenger out of the van and is beating him with the butt of his rifle. As I was not there, I cannot say what the man did to warrant such an action but I can say with confidence that he did not deserve to be beaten with the butt of an AK-47. For our own safety, we drove off without stopping to interfere.... I hope the poor man is still alive.

Exhibit D
Saturday night we were invited to a birthday dinner in Victoria Island - the ex-pat section of town.  For our safety, we called for a Red Cab - a government regulated cab service - and, after waiting for 3 hours for it to arrive, enjoyed a 45-minute ride to the "nice side" of town. Once on the "Island" the cab driver got a little lost trying to find the restaurant... apparently not many people requesting a ride from the middle of the Lagos Ghetto want to go to a Thai restaurant hidden in a shady V.I. suburb. In his confusion, our driver wasn't watching the road signs and accidentally drove onto a street that was marked "One Way- Do Not Enter." As fate would have it, however, he did so right in front of a pick up truck filled with uniformed, armed Police Officers.

****At this point, I have to politely say that if my parents are reading this blog entry they should skip down to the part titled "Happy Ending."*****

With minimal conversation (the driver saying he's lost; the police officer chastising him for not reading road signs), the front, passenger's side door is opened by one of the officers and Christine is told (men with guns apparently don't ask) to get into the back seat. She quickly joins us in the back and the officer plops down in the front seat, with his AK-47, and directs the driver to turn around... into the middle of traffic.... and pull over onto a darker side street. Once on the side street the officer immediately says:

"Put it in de hand"
(Which translates to: "Give me money now")

The driver promptly hands over a 1,000 Niara note (about $7) without a fuss - I might add that this amount is roughly half the amount of our cab fare. The Police Officer, apparently unsatisfied with the amount of the bribe, asks for more. The driver, who is just starting his shift, claims he has nothing left. The Police Officer tsk's angrily and makes him get out of the car.

I should add that, at this point, I'm not really scared... I'm just really, really angry. In fact, as I said at the time, I was so mad, I could "spit fire." But, of course, one doesn't spit fire at men holding guns so I sat in the back seat, fuming, and watching the events unfolding behind the car.

The police officer who had been sitting in our car directs the driver over to a group of police officers where they all gather around him, with their AK-47s, presumably to collectively ask for more money. Later, the driver informs us with a smile that he only had to pay another 1,000 Naira - almost our entire cab fare.

*******
Happy Ending:
After bribing the crowd of police officers, the driver returns to the car and says, smiling, that "Its okay. Everything's okay. This is the way things are in Lagos..." And then informs us that the police officers have taken pity on him and will therefore be leading us to where the restaurant is... just down the road.

Of course, we paid our poor cab driver double the normal fare.


In closing this entry, I would just like to summarize: In the span of 2 days, we were stopped no less than 3 times by members of the Nigerian Police Force and openly, without shame, harassed for bribes. Not to mention, a member of Nigeria's "finest" was seen in broad daylight, in the midst of a busy intersection, beating a man with his rifle.

It is absolutely unacceptable that the very people designated to serve and protect the people of Lagos are the ones inflicting unnecessary harm.... The Nigerian people need to be protected FROM the Police Force, not by them. 


Still, this is nothing new for the majority of people living in Nigeria. In fact, sadly, this is just another matter that Nigerians deal with on a daily basis.... And, while it upsets me greatly that corruption such as this exists so openly and so unhampered, what would I know anyway?... I'm just an American outsider.

Know Before You Go: Lagos - Food

Although I've only been here a week, so much has happened and I feel that I need to write a small novel just to cover everything I've seen and done in Lagos so far. However, the internet is still completely and totally unreliable and as I'm afraid that it will cut out on me at any moment, I think the best thing for me to do is copy-and-paste. As you may (or may not) know, I'm in Nigeria for an internship with the Frontier Market Scouts (FMS) Program through the Monterey Institute and part of my promised deliverable and the end of my stay here is to submit a "Things to Know Before You Go" booklet/brochure/pamphlet about Lagos and Nigeria in general. I've begun working on it already so as not to forget important lessons I'm learning in the beginning (i.e. how to handle the airport). I've decided to test drive bits and pieces of this final deliverable on this blog so, from time to time, I'll post "Know Before You Go" segments to see how they're received. I decided to pick a relatively neutral topic for the maiden test run so below you'll find my thoughts on Food Found in Lagos:

*************

Food in Nigeria

Measuring the standard of food in Nigeria depends largely on your personal standards for food in general as well as your personal likes and dislikes. The following section is based on my personal preferences although, as I am not a very picky eater and will generally try anything once, I have made notes with less flexible tastes in mind.

Even for a less adventurous food-y, Nigerian food certainly lacks variety. There are about 5 main dishes that are “Nigerian” and although there are some slight variations on each dish, you could, quite easily, try them all out in less than a week. All of these dishes have two parts: a sticky ball of something starch-y (i.e. rice or pounded yams) and a gooey sauce. One therefore eats most (if not all) Nigerian dishes by “sopping up” the gooey sauce with the selected variety of balled starch. Most Nigerian food is fairly spicy by the American standard but I have found it to be, for the most part, very flavorful and quite tasty. Be warned: many if not all Nigerian dishes are cooked with large quantities of “Maggi” which is, essentially, a block of sodium. Nigerian food also tends to be without large quantities of vegetables with the exception of tomatoes. If you’re looking to eat healthy while in Nigeria, you may have to plan ahead. As a great example of the prevalence of tomatoes and tomato-tastes in Nigerian cooking, one of the most common Nigerian dishes, “Jolof Rice,” is essentially rice that is cooked in spicy tomato paste. My favorite Nigerian food staple by far is the pounded yam which someone once described to me as “mashed potatoes… but a million times better.” I have to agree.

If Nigerian cuisine is not to your liking or if, at the very least, you require some degree of variety in your diet, shopping for food in Nigeria can be expensive. As most vegetables are not consumed regularly by the general populace, they are tough to find and can be outrageously expensive (One medium-sized green bell pepper is $12). A cheaper bet is to go with canned vegetables although these are also by no means “cheap.” Conversely, fruits such as pineapple, pawpaw (papaya), oranges, melon, and plantain are readily available for purchase on most street corners and, as I understand it, very cheap if you have basic bargaining skills.

Lagos has a few American-style restaurants but the majority of them are located on Victoria Island where there is a large ex-pat population and, of course, where everything is subsequently over-priced by roughly 200%. If you want to try Nigerian restaurant dining, there are a few fast-food style places where one can go to get a cheap meal. Since being here, I’ve tried “Mr. Biggs” which is a fast-food restaurant that claims to be centered on chicken dishes (mainly a variation of Jolof Rice with chicken) but also has hamburgers and ice cream as well as a rather disgusting chicken “pie” that I would not personally recommend to anyone. If you do decide to try out Mr. Biggs, you absolutely have to try a “Scotch Egg” which is a boiled egg that has been deep-fat-fried for roughly $1. You may recoil now but, trust me, when you get here it will taste like a little piece of crispy heaven. Other non-fast food Nigerian restaurants are scattered throughout and food is generally cheap although, as discussed earlier, by no means "exciting."

If you're hoping for the "REAL" Nigerian experience however, your best bet to to accept an invitation to eat with a local Nigerian family. Nigerians are well-known for their hospitality and will roll out a veritable food red carpet for you in terms of multiple courses cooked to perfection. Besides, it wouldn't be a real Nigerian dining experience without the intense-but-friendly talking/shouting, laughing, joking, and gesturing that is common in almost all Nigerian conversations.

***************

As a personal note, I would like to mention that I have found one Nigerian food that I absolutely can not eat: "draw soup." As I mentioned earlier, I am not a picky eater and I'm really adventurous about trying new foods. In fact, more often than not, I'll enjoy the food in front of me so much I'll eat way beyond actually feeling full and, when I travel, I always make sure to buy a local cook book so I can replicate my tasty food travels at home. But, seriously, this one dish - draw soup- is positively putrid and beyond anything I think I will ever be able to put into my mouth again. First of all, the smell unleashed in cooking draw soup is one that evokes that of a long-since-expired fish that has been stewing in sewage... Secondly, when you taste draw soup, it tastes exactly as it smells. And, finally, the texture is, very literally, like mucus and oozes and goops from the plate to your fingers. While I'm sure it is an acquired taste, I will be very happy if I never have to eat it again.

Christine demonstrates the mucus-like quality of "draw soup"

I demonstrate the potential of "eba" - one the the many "sticky starch balls" - that tastes a lot like polenta (or so I'm told). We have named this eba man "Wee Wole"

Lagos: Day 1

Horray! I’ve arrived in Lagos. It was a traveling adventure with thankfully minimal hiccups and, now that I’ve been here for a little over 12 hours, I feel as though I can start to collect my thoughts. However, getting these thoughts posted to the internet anytime soon is going to be a challenge. The fabled internet is being capricious today… as it has been the last few days and, more than likely, the next few days to come.

So my biggest thought or, I guess you could say “observation” so far is about the traffic. Keeping in mind, I’ve lived and traveled around a fairly decent chunk of Africa and I have never, ever seen traffic so bad with one exception: Cairo, Egypt (which most don’t even consider Africa so I guess that still makes Lagos the worst). In fact, I would say, traffic here is almost exactly like traffic in Cairo. Obviously, if you’ve been to Cairo, you know exactly what that means. If you haven’t, imagine a road designed to take 2 lanes of traffic. Now imagine that road jammed with 4 -5 lanes of traffic all of them honking and jammed together, trying to squeeze past one another without getting into an accident. On the road from the airport, I saw one accident right after it had happened involving a bush taxi (mini bus), packed with people, that had gotten its door ripped right off from whatever passing car or truck had tried to squeeze by with not enough room. I would certainly not want to drive myself around here… Let alone ride in a bush taxi.

In other news from my travels, flying from London Heathrow to Lagos was a special experience. I was one of 4 Caucasians on the plane but didn’t at all feel out of place. This might have been for a few reasons:

1.      Apparently the average Nigerian carries onto the plane at least 2 fully packed suitcases in addition to at least 1 large plastic bag of something they’ve purchased in the airport such as 4 pounds of Cadbury’s chocolate. This of course presents challenges when trying to fit everything into the overhead bins and everyone on the plane was so focused on this task that not only did hardly anyone notice how out of place I was but we were 20 minutes late leaving Heathrow.

2.       I have never seen so many people deeply immersed Duty Free while in-flight. In fact, until this particular journey I don’t think I’ve ever seen even ONE person buy Duty Free from a stewardess. In my section of the cabin, every other person purchased something from Duty Free… At least, every other person TRIED to purchase Duty Free. Apparently, Nigerians buying Duty Free all want to buy the same thing which leads to issues of supply and demand.

On the plane I was seated next to the sweetest couple: a Nigerian man and his South African wife of 40 years. He is a retired Probation Officer from London and she is a retired Social Services Worker who used to commute to South Hampton and they both had such lovely philosophies about people and life. At the end of the ride, the woman, who asked me to call her “Mami,” fussed over me and how I was getting home from the airport and who was meeting me and where I was going to be staying etc etc. She started to give me all this advice about how to handle baggage claim and what to say to the customs agents and so on and so forth until she got to her piece of advice on handling my luggage. She insisted that I rent a cart in order to make sure my luggage could be rolled around with me to prevent theft and, when she realized I didn’t have any Niara (Nigerian Currency) on me, she opened up her own wallet and gave me 250 Niara (the equivalent of just under $2) “just to be safe.” I tried to give it back but she continued to insist that it was the only way for me to handle baggage claim safely and effectively. … I certainly felt “mom’d”… As it turns out, the cart rental people accept both US dollars and Niara so I would have been fine but what a sweet lady and what a kind gesture!

Of course, not every encounter has been so pleasant. I had to show my passport and entry card to no less than 4 different agents and was stopped at the exits by no less than 3 men, all of them either un-uniformed or too lazy to get up from the passenger chairs, who all wanted to check different kinds of paperwork. One of the men, apparently in charge of checking my yellow health card, was annoyed that I hadn’t filled out my name throughout the form (for those of you who are unfamiliar with the form, there is a space on the front of the card for your name as well as on the inside of the booklet). He decided that it was simply unacceptable that he had to check my name on the front of the booklet and then open it up to check my documentation on my yellow fever vaccination and so he made me stand there in front of him and fill out the entire booklet.

Sigh…

Our apartment accommodations are a lot nicer than I was expecting although you wouldn’t know it looking at the house from the outside. The place is still under construction and something new is fixed or added each today. Yesterday, the generator was fixed and we had the pleasure of sleeping under a fan (until it died again at 6 this morning) and today we got curtains put up in our room. They’re a curious shade of lime green but they give the apartment a very home-y feel which is certainly appreciated. On the downside, even with the fans working, having to share a bed with someone is certainly a sticky situation in this climate… I’m hoping the air mattress arrives soon so I don’t have to worry about rolling over and sweating onto one of my roommates in the middle of the night.

Anyway, before my internet cuts out, I’m going to try to post this. Thanks to everyone for all the positive thoughts and well-wishes for my journey!

Preparing for Battle

Yesterday I had a long, interesting phone conversation with a MIIS alum who had just come back from a 3 month stint in Nigeria. Although she offered a lot of helpful hints in terms of where/how to exchange money (not in the airport, never more than $400 at a time), airport security in Lagos (make sure they write the correct length of stay on your entry paperwork), and dress code (formal... very very formal. All the time..), I have to say that the overall conversation made me feel as though I was going into battle.

Of course, this IS Africa after all. And I AM a blond, blue-eyed American woman. But..... it just doesn't seem right to me to arrive in a country, guns a-blazin', ready for the first Nigerian "Prince" to spam me before I snap and tell everyone to keep a safe distance from the windows of my tinted car. Still, I appreciate the words of wisdom and, knowing how absorbed I can become in a new place/culture once I'm there, I understand the importance of knowing what I'm getting myself into before I leave.

So, in an effort to be smart about all of this, this is where I admit to the potential dangers of being an American woman in Nigeria and how I'm going to avoid them:

Yes, there have been abductions in the oil-rich delta region in the south-east of the country (I'm going to be in the south-west). However, unlike the politically-charged Al-Qaeda kidnappings of Niger, these tend to be for ransom rather than execution. How I Plan to Avoid This: 1. Make sure everyone understands how poor I am. Seriously. No smart person would kidnap 70K worth of debt. 2. Don't visit the Delta region.

Yes, there has been religious tension and conflict in the North near the Jos Plateau. There was even a Christmas Day Bombing in Abuja (the capital city) and many people have been killed. I plan to write a blog on this later to explain the basic "why"... until then... How I Plan to Avoid This: 1. Stay out of the North. 2. Don't discuss religion. Ever.

Yes, there is corruption. Not just at the high levels of national government, not just at the mid-levels of state government, but at the local level...and, sometimes, sadly, at the individual level. Yes, there is a chance that people will try to scam me or steal from me... especially, house help. To be fair, this isn't exclusive to Nigeria. When we lived in Zambia, I remember our nanny/housekeeper stole one of my Mom's checks and forged her signature for a ridiculous amount of money... How I Plan to Avoid This: 1. Hide valuable things ... Which is easy to do if you know how to be sneaky about it (my Mom was great about this during my last Peace Corps service). 2. Get to know people on a sincere, friendly basis. People are less likely to steal from you if you really know who they are and if they know you're not an average American a-hole.

Yes, apparently, there is a risk of getting HIV/AIDs from eating bush-meat sold on the side of the road. Seriously. This was one of the "warnings" I received.... How I Plan to Avoid This:   1. Ask the vendor what kind of meat it is... often times, you don't have to ask as the animal is very recognizable just hanging there, dead and skinned right next to the stall 2. Don't eat meat sold on the side of the road! I'm not worried about HIV/AIDS so much as I am about getting amoebic dysentary... for the third time.

~*~*~*~*~*

If you had to guess where this picture was taken, Lagos or Los Angeles.... Which would you say?

I know to many of my friends and family I seem crazy for traveling to such "strange" and "scary" places overseas... and even more insane for my sometimes cavalier attitude towards the whole thing. In response I would just say that there are parts of the US (Compton or Skid Row for example) that are just as "strange" and "scary." In fact, there are certain parts of Reno that most people I know wouldn't visit after dark. For the record, the picture above is of the infamous Skid Row in Los Angeles California.

As in the US, being overseas in "strange" and "scary" places is all about managing risk. And, in my personal experience, one of the most important ways to manage risk is to avoid making yourself a target. The more scared you are, the more people wonder what reason you have to be afraid, and then you have people watching to see what valuables you're so eager to protect....Your best bet is to talk to people. Be friendly. Remember names. Remember interests, favorite sports teams, family names etc. When people know you, not only are they less likely to kidnap you, harass you, and steal from you, they're more likely to protect you from the people who will. (I personally saw this in action in Peace Corps).

In any case, I'm looking forward to my time in Nigeria. Yes, there are risks. There are always risks. If I waited until it was completely safe, I'd never leave the house. Still, for those of you who aren't "crazy" enough to leave your house to go all the way to Lagos, Nigeria, I understand... ...

I'll send pictures.

Downtown Lagos, Nigeria