Double take...

Even as we pulled out of the motorpark all did not seem very well with the car. 2 minutes down the road it chug-chug-chugged to a halt. 100m short of the petrol station. The driver sighed, grabbed his trusty jerry can and headed off in search of fuel. Returning 10 minutes later he had enough fuel to carry us to the station. So a passenger took the can and began filling the tank for him. And then, from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the driver take a swig from the can. Berating myself for imagining things, I watched him walk around to the front of the car and pour the contents of his mouth into the carbourator. Just to jump start the engine, my neighbour explained. Ah, of course...

Travel happy...

We left Jos early on Sunday for our 4 hour trip home. By 10 we had already broken down twice. The third stop had more of a long term feel to it, and the passengers slowly began to climb down - some to rummage under the hood with the driver, some to seek out pure water, some to ease themselves. The driver placed his second hat - mechanic - on his head, popped the hood and began his investigations. Tools were selected from the glove compartment; tweaking and coaxing, then whacking the engine with a spanner. He was assisted by some passengers, various locals and the odd passing driver who stopped to dispense their wisdom, their knotted brows, their spanner-whacking expertise. Half an hour later we were off again; traveling for long periods in 1st, then 2nd gear, as the engine struggled to carry us home. Sunday morning saw all the mechanics at church.
Our waterloo came an hour from home (6 hours into our 4 hour journey). As the driver wandered back to the town of Suleja, us passengers began hailing passing taxis. No mention of recouping some of the cost of the journey, much less the time. Traveling in 'this our Nigeria'.

Welcome to Nigeria...

I hosted a new volunteer this week; Jane has just arrived in Nigeria. All went pretty well I thought - no mice in the house, although we did find a dehydrated frog in the living room upon our arrival!
But in general things went grand. Each day we took longer okada rides, an on Saturday that entailed crossing the city. No problem and we took the easy option of a shared taxi back i.e. car instead of motorbike. Then as the taxi turned into the market there was a thud from behind. There was an air of finality about it and it wasnt hard to figure out that the car wasnt going any further, so we climbed down. Only to see that the back wheel had fallen off the car. Not the tyre, not the bolts, not the rim. The entire wheel has dislocated itself from the axel of the car and lay on its side on the road.
Jane and I walked down the road to choruses of 'oyibo you are lucky', 'you are so lucky oyibo'...

No parking, no begging, no hawking, no maneuvering...

A new sign outside our Central Mosque. The city is undergoing a bit of a tidy towns moment of late. A new market and a new governor have coincided to prompt a bit of a cleaner image. So the row of permanently-seated beggars have been moved from the front of the Mosque (to reveal a single storey building that I passed several times a day for 2 years and never noticed before). Similarly at the market, the stalls that encroached on the street, the mothers and children who obscured the footpaths, the okadas and taxis that baracaded the roads - all gone. The city certainly looks nicer and is easier to negotiate, but I cant figure out where all the people went.
Recently, a governor in one of the Northern states introduced a monthly allowance for all physically disabled indigines to prevent them from begging on the street. It is a tiny amount but a huge step forward. This clean-up philosophy seems to have spread from Abuja to neighbouring cities. Only time will tell whether it is a cosmetic clean-up (as it was in Abuja) or the real deal.

The festivities...

The durbar is a colourful, vibrant parade that is interesting and entertaining to watch. But the best bit of the two days, for me, was the people-watching. Once again, in Nigeria, that means the people that I watch and the people who watch me!

Everywhere you go there are people who want to act as your guide. Folks who are eager to ensure that you are enjoying the occasion and that you understand what is going on. A teacher sitting behind us frequently tapped my shoulder to inform us who was coming and fill-in various bits of history and culture. It surprised me that I got swept up in the emotion of the Emir's arrival. The crowd had been becoming increasingly excited as the more senior participants arrived - arms shot into the air with rounded fists as a sign of respect to those passing. As the huge umbrella of the Emir approached, the palpable excitment had me scrambling up on to my seat to catch a glimpse of this much-revered man. The afternoon ended with a 'pitch-invasion' and general mayhem befitting of the emotion.

As we walked home, and throughout the 2 days really, we met people who asked whether we had enjoyed the festival. Nigerians are rightly proud of this magnificent event and all the proud history and culture that prompts it.

Eid Ul Fitr...

This week Nigeria celebrated Eid Ul Fitr to mark the end of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month of fasting. The Eid is celebrated with a durbar in each of the seven emirates (or kingdoms) in Northern Nigeria. The durbar is a colourful and atmospheric parade of representatives of the various groups that make up each emirate; they come to honour the Emir. The parade winds through the city streets and gathers outside the Emir's Palace, then the horsemen of each group race across the Palace Square to show respect to the Emir. Its an incredible sight.

We visited Zaria on Thursday where we watched from the street outside the palace and soaked up the excitement of the crowd. On Friday we went to another emirate, Kano, and watched from the plush seats in the grand palace square. Both great experiences.

A bad year...

I think enough time has passed to laugh about this. I may be wrong. Turn away now if Croke Park is still a bit raw.
As Limerick managed to make it to the All-Ireland this year, I decided to put a bit of effort in myself and try to see the game. Not so easy here in Nigeria where hurling hasn’t really taken off just yet. Despite the help of a Scot, a diplomat and a priest I wasn’t able to locate a television in the country showing the game – but I was pointed toward the internet. So we descended on the house of a friend and hooked up to the internet with the plan to watch the game projected on a wall. Only it didn’t quite turn out like that. A bit of research on my part would have told me that you cant actually watch the game via the internet outside Ireland – you can only get written updates every few minutes on a matchtracker. But it turns out a Louth woman and her Micheal O twang creates a very convincing atmosphere!
Needless to say we didn’t miss much by not seeing the actual game. While we were setting up Nor was texting me the points. And it turned out that texting was a lot quicker than RTE’s internet typist and so we had 2 or 3 mins advance warning of the Limerick goal. That goal was properly cheered in Abuja if nowhere else.
Well done to Kilkenny - the better team won on the day. But we’ll be the better team next year.

The aftermath...

Mam and Dads trip to Nigeria has been a great boost. As well as a holiday, I have a washer in my leaking tap, brand-spanking new glasses in my kitchen and a lifetime supply of roses & clove rock. As it turns out clove rock and roses have a particularly short lifespan. Ah well.
The only problem might be with my language skills though – I haven’t had a conversation this week that went beyond ‘yes, they had a great time’, ‘no, they wont have time to visit again’, ‘yes, they ate lots of yam’… And over and over and over again.