They don't show this on TV...

The Sunday before I left for Africa was Easter. I had dinner with my Nigerian friend and her family after church. I would meet her sister later in the week, and we were all going to stay at their father’s house in Lagos. Everyone asked me if I was ready for Nigeria and told me to expect it to be like nothing I’d ever seen before. I told them I was ready for the experience. Then, I asked an admittedly very ignorant question – “I’ll be able to take showers inside, won’t I?” They all laughed at me and told me to just wait and see.

After my friends picked me up from the airport in Lagos, we went to their father’s house. First, we drove through the city, then across the bridge to the island. The area around the house had beautiful tree-lined streets that were kept relatively clean by mostly female street sweepers in orange jumpsuits. The home was in a gated community where hawkers waited outside the gates selling phone cards, gum, candy, etc. to residents and guests as they entered and exited. The house was behind another private gate with a guard who stayed in the guardhouse. The gate and guard seemed to be common for every house we visited throughout my stay. The house was big enough to comfortably accommodate all the guests (nearly 10 of us) without any fights over the bathrooms.


a house in Lagos



My room was located downstairs with a small attached bathroom. The first thing I wanted to do when I arrived at the house from the airport was wash all the travel dust off. Before stepping into the bathroom, I was warned not to drink the water from the tap and to brush my teeth only with filtered water. I filled an empty water bottle with water from the filter in the kitchen and poured it into a glass each day for brushing my teeth. The tap water reminded me of visiting my grandparents’ house in the country in northern Louisiana where they used well water. The water from the well left a red tint in the sink drains and had a distinct almost rust-like smell similar to Lagos’ water, but it was potable (at least that’s what they told us), unlike the Lagos water. I showered at least twice a day, because I always felt really dirty after being outside in the hot, humid weather (think Houston + Tallahassee in August, times 5), and I wanted to wash the dust out of my hair. There were a couple of days where the generator stopped working properly so my room was steamy when I stepped out of the shower. On those days, I sweated while brushing my teeth or picking out clothes for the day, and I ended up back in the shower a few minutes later to try to cool down again. We went to the mall to avoid the heat until the generator could be fixed.

Each morning I awoke to the sound of humming, and I went to sleep to that same sound. I’d heard that familiar sound in Houston back in the fall of 2008. It was the loud hum of the generator at the house next door. Apparently, the generator was located on the side of the house closest to my window. It seemed that all of the houses had a minimum of 2 generators also known as “Big Gen” and “Little Gen”. They were like extended members of the family, because their names were used so much on a daily basis - “Little Gen is not working, so we’re using Big Gen during the day.” “Big Gen needs to be serviced.” “Turn off the air conditioners because Little Gen is on now.” The reason that generators are so popular, in fact, necessary, is because “NEPA takes lights.” NEPA is the power company, but they don’t maintain a regular current to the homes and businesses. The people always have to be prepared for NEPA ("Never Enough Power Always") to stop working and for the generators to kick in and allow them to continue their daily lives. Running generators all day everyday is pretty expensive because of the cost of fuel and maintenance. (Side Note - If you can't fathom how a generator works and why they are constantly being repaired, imagine the wear and tear of running your car all the time in 90 degree plus weather.) The small generator was used to power the lights, fans, and small appliances during the day, while the big generator was used at night to power the energy guzzling A/C units in every room. The attendant in the guardhouse was also responsible for turning on the generators as soon as NEPA stopped working. In the middle of the night, he would hear an alarm alerting him that NEPA’s current was fading, and then he knew to turn on “Big Gen”.

The gate guard was not the only worker in the house. The house employed drivers that seemed to be on call as needed. There was also the cook/house help. In homes with children, the house help might also be the nanny. The cook/house help in our home made many great meals and tried to fill us up each day before we headed out to face the world. Much of the meals consisted of meat and carbohydrates like yam (boiled or pounded), semovita (semo), garry (looked like grits), rice, and pasta. He also made moin moin (spicy bean paste) that I actually liked even though I have never liked beans. One day we actually had moin moin twice because it was served at someone else’s home for lunch and at our home for dinner. Maybe I’m biased, but I think the best moin moin I tasted was when I tried it for the first time on Easter. Fresh vegetables and fruit were pretty rare and relatively expensive, which is also a common phenomenon in low-income neighborhoods in the US. We had cabbage salad with dinner a couple of nights though.


chicken with pasta






(top left to right) meat, fried rice, moin moin, jollof rice



It is not uncommon for families with modest incomes to have generators, house help, and other "luxuries" in Nigeria. However, there is also a large population that does not live like that. I did not observe the stark poverty that I saw in India while in Nigeria. Lagos was like a mix of India and Louisana (and not the mirage of Louisiana we see during Mardi Gras) as far as the the way things appeared to me on the streets. I saw poor people, yes, but I did not see people sleeping on the sidewalks at night and squatting on the side of the street to relieve themselves. I also didn't see many beggars. Maybe they were there, and I just wasn't exposed to them. My friends told me that there used to be a lot of beggars on the streets, but now they all seem to be selling something instead. They sold magazines, CDs, DVDs, jewelry, candy, gum, phone cards, drinks, chips, books, maps, etc. and we bought it all during stagnant traffic. You literally could avoid the supermarket by shopping from your car.


selling CDs on the street



We also exchanged money on the streets. The money exchange experience was hilarious to me. Before we left the house one day, I told my friends I needed to exchange USD for naira. They said we would do it on our way shopping because they needed to exchange their BP, and I assumed we were going to stop at a bank. The car started to slow down on the side of the road where there were no buildings just men lounging around, and I asked why we were stopping. Two or three men walked over to the car and asked what we needed. My friends asked the rate for dollars and pounds, told them it was too low and started to ease off the brakes like we were driving away. The guys went up a little on their exchange rate and we handed over our money for naira. As we drove away, I was astounded at what had just transpired. I was still mesmerized by the experience even when we did it a couple more times during my stay.


currency exchange



One of the things I found most interesting while in Lagos was the emphasis on religion. On the initial ride from the airport, we passed many overcrowded poverty-stricken areas with small lean-tos and tin roofs. Every other tin-roofed stall had a handpainted sign or banner indicating it was a church. There was also a great number of large "mushroom" (Pentecostal) churches, Catholic churches, and some Islamic mosques. We visited the compound of a Charismatic Catholic minister's home one day and I kept asking my friends if it was a church. They had images of "Jesus", crosses, virgins, disciples, stations of the cross, popes, etc. everywhere you turned - on the compound wall, inside every room, on the cars, everywhere. I was expecting to see a Jesus soap pump when I went to the bathroom. I am a Christian, but that was beyond weird to me.


the wall around the compound


Another thing that I noticed was how dramatically different it was to attend Catholic mass. The only experience I had with Catholicism before Lagos was attending mass with my cousin in Houston twice, which was different from what I was used to, but it wasn't bad. The Houston church had an African priest (Ironic, don't you think?) with a good choir that sang lively music and people stood up and clapped during the songs. The Lagos church was quiet most of the time and I still did not understand all the rituals. The heat inside was stifling with fans whirring above our heads but no central air; the windows and doors remained open and we felt a breeze every now and then. The choir sang softly in a loft above the congregation at the rear. While they sang, the congregation looked forward and kept still. I was grateful when we stood up or kneeled to pray because I could feel my sweat-soaked skin sticking to the wooden pew as I sat. The most fascinating thing to me about this church was the image on the tiled-wall above the baptism. I wish I could have taken a picture, but we left before the service ended. It was a scene showing men, women, and children with bronze (brown) skin and woolly hair in colorful traditional clothing looking skyward as a white man with long, stringy blonde hair and blue eyes ascended into Heaven. This church in Africa was probably the most "non-African" church I have ever attended. To top it off, I attended a church in Dallas the Sunday after I arrived back in the US, and it looked, sounded, and felt more African than what I experienced in Africa. I was dumbfounded.

church in Dallas

Oh, the Places You’ll Go

What can you do in 40 hours? The first thing that comes to mind is probably the 40 hours or more most people spend at work each work. However, I spent 40 hours – nearly 2 full days – in transit to and from Lagos, Nigeria. My journey started in Houston, TX and took me to London, England, then Cairo, Egypt before finally landing in Lagos, Nigeria. The return trip followed the same route, except I bypassed London for a stop in New York before touching down in Houston again.

One of the questions I’ve heard many times since returning home is, “Does being in Africa make you appreciate home more?” or some variation. That question slightly irritates me because it says something about the inquirer’s perspective of the world outside the US borders. It implies that living in the US is better than living somewhere else, when really it’s just different. Not better or worse.

"A child who has never left home says, my mother is the best cook." - Ugandan proverb

I love and appreciate where I am from and the people who nurture and support me at home, but I also realize that there is so much more in the world to learn and appreciate too. My voyage to Africa showed me that family is more than just blood ties. It is about people coming together to celebrate life and love while also supporting each other when it seems love is lost and life is gone.

My hope is that people who read about my travel experiences will be reminded that there is a whole world outside of your house just waiting to be explored and revered, not dominated, conquered, colonized, crusaded, or made to look like you. That outside world could be 5 miles or 5,000 miles from where you live, but it is just waiting on you to venture out and see it just as it is, in all its beauty. I believe that by visiting new places and opening our eyes to the people around us, we become more human. We stop seeing “aliens” and “those people”, and we start seeing “them” as our brothers and sisters – part of our extended family. "They" becomes "we" and "us", and "you" becomes "me". When they hurt, we all hurt. We are not islands. We are like leaves on branches that aggregate to form trees, and we – the entire human race – are a great forest. If the leaves on the American trees are diseased, then it impacts the Brazilian trees and the Cambodian trees, etc.

Those who know me personally know that I am a bibliophile. I read a wide range of books from fiction to nonfiction, but people are usually shocked when I tell them my favorite is a book by Dr. Seuss – “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”. I believe it is a book for children as well as adults because its message is universal. That message is: The world has a lot to explore and learn and you can do anything if you take the limits off of yourself. There will be challenges, but you can face them and overcome. I try to introduce people, especially children, to traveling in their minds first by reading, and hopefully, that will lead to them traveling physically.

My wish is that other people will read about my experiences and be inspired to take a road trip, get a passport, eat new foods, learn a new language, and see the world. Go places!


My friend, Patricka, travels extensively around the world. Vote for her to have her own travel show on the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN). Vote here.

Out of Africa...

April 18, 2010

Sunday morning, I made sure that everything was packed and ready to go. I carefully wrapped and folded all my souvenirs the night before and had just enough room to take all my treasures home. I showered, dressed, and cleaned my room before walking out to breakfast. I took a few final pictures with The Supremes. The airport and the church were both located in Ikeja, but we took separate cars. Renny and the girls were taken to church in one car, while the other driver took Onome and I to the airport. Onome would meet with them after making sure I was settled at the airport. I took my final pictures of Lagos as we zoomed along the highway with relatively little traffic. I thought I might be able to buy a couple of CDs from hawkers along the way, but there was not enough traffic for them to safely sell on the road - meaning the traffic was not stopped where they could dash in between cars without being struck.

crossing the bay in Lagos

We arrived at the airport and went to the EgyptAir counter to check in. There was a table where the Nigerian guards opened my bags to check for weapons I guess. They spoke in Yoruba to Onome. Apparently, this table wasn't setup for safety. They wanted a "settlement". I gave them 1000naira and gave them a dirty look. I was pissed that this was my last impression of Nigeria. I do not reward bad behavior, whether it is from a child, a store clerk, a waiter, whatever. The whole time I was in Nigeria I hated when we were stopped at checkpoints and artificial barriers erected by police or "area boys" to collect settlements or "shake body". Now, I was an unwilling participant in the corruption, and it went against my principles. The EgyptAir worker who checked my passport before ticketing asked if I was okay and Onome said that I was just tired. I suppose I need to hide my facial expressions better. Or, maybe the culture of corruption should be ended. Just a thought.

Anyway, after my bags were checked and I had my ticket in hand, I hugged Onome goodbye and he was off to the church. I went to the giftshop and bought a CD (Asa - see below) that would have cost 150 naira on the street, but was 600 in the store. I proceeded to the gate after being stopped 5 more times to check my passport between the initial screening and the gate. I boarded the plane and sat in the aisle seat. I prefer to sit by the window, but I was unable to select my seat for the EgyptAir flights. I watched over my neighbors' shoulders as the last glimpse of Lagos faded away into lush green vegetation and the blue/gray Atlantic coast of Africa.

Lagos Airport

Before the plane landed in Cairo, I decided I would stay in a hotel for the night. I would not be sleeping in the airport anymore if I could help it. My flight landed around 8pm and my flight to JFK would depart at 9:15 the next morning. I bought another entrance visa and went through customs. I didn't have to claim my baggage because it had been checked through to New York. My carry-on bag held toiletries and a change of clothes, so I was set. Since I had not made a hotel reservation prior to landing, I knew my best bet was to find a Marriott hotel. I am a Rewards member and I also knew that I could expect a clean comfortable bed for the night. (This is why branding is important.) A travel agent tried to sell me on a reservation for another property, but I didn't want to take a chance. I went to another travel desk and asked for a taxi to the Marriott. It was located downtown approximately 30 miles away, but it could take up to an hour to get there in Cairo traffic. I didn't mind though. We crossed the bridge over the Nile and the driver slowed down.

I did not expect the hotel to be on the banks of the river, but it was. It was beautiful to behold the architecture of this old building in the golden glow of the light at night. I walked into the ornately decorated lobby with tiled floors and gold trim and told the clerk I wanted a room for the night. He told me the room rate for the night was around $200, which seemed a little low to me considering the location and amenities, as well as it doubling as a casino. I told him I wanted to use my Marriott Rewards, and he told me that they usually required a reservation be made at least 48 hours prior to redemption, but I could go to the business center to try to book it online. I made the reservation online, walked back to the desk with my confirmation number, and the clerk told me I would receive a room upgrade due to my status. I walked into the room, and finally, I exhaled. (That line came straight from a movie.) The hotel tried to cater to every palate with restaurants ranging from Italian, sushi, coffee/bakery, steak, etc., but I settled on "Eyptian Palace", the only restaurant that seemed to serve actual Egyptian fare. It was a huge open air restaurant located in the courtyard. The host asked if I wanted smoking or non-smoking. It seemed as though the whole place was smoking, and one small corner of 10 tables was for non-smoking patrons. That small area was closest to the stage where a man, a woman, and a DJ sang Arabic love songs. I enjoyed my dinner of assorted breads, hummus, chicken tikka, and a traditional drink made of flowers (I dont remember the name) that tasted like cranberry juice but sweeter.

When I returned to the room, I called my mother to let her know I was in Cairo and that I was not impacted by the delays caused by the volcanic ash covering Europe. She started telling me about everything that was happening at home like it was a casual phone call. I politely interrupted and said the call was too expensive for all that and we would talk when I arrived in NY and could use my cell phone again. After the call, I bathed, took a few pictures from the balcony, and called it a night. I didn't sleep well that night though due to "Naija-rhea".

courtyard and restaurant at hotel



on the hotel balcony overlooking River Nile

I requested a wake-up call at 6am, but I was awakened by the sun almost an hour earlier than I planned, because I slept with the curtains open. I dressed, packed my things, and ate a quick breakfast in the Executive Lounge upstairs, before heading downstairs for my taxi to the airport. There was relatively little traffic that morning, and the sun bathed the city in thick, warm light. I could understand why the Greeks named the city Heliopolis - City of the Sun. I boarded the plane after going through a long check-in line and said goodbye to Africa. I started reading "Purple Hibiscus", a book I bought in Lagos by a Nigerian author, before the doors closed and continued reading until I finished a couple of hours later. It was a beautifully written story about a girl finding her voice. It reminded me of The Color Purple in many ways (not just the name). "This is It" played in the background as I listened on the headphones while reading. I only looked up at the screen when I heard my favorite MJ song. (Trivia: What is my favorite Michael Jackson song? Hint: It features a choir.) I slept some, ate a little of the imitation, overcooked food to stave my hunger, and slept some more.

I finally caught up on my writing from the previous days and wrote the words below during the actual moments they were happening.
The sun has shone since we left Egypt (we are flying backwards in time). I can see the light peaking under my neighbors' shades. We are 20 minutes away from landing at JFK. I have to take a taxi to LGA to finally go to Houston. Flying using airline points is not for the faint of heart. It has been extremely long and tiring, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to stop over in Cairo en route to and from Lagos. I'm also glad that my return trip did not take me through ash-covered Europe.

Now, I just want to sleep in my own bed for a few days, but I have to be at work on Wednesday. I'm going to force myself to stay awake until I arrive home at 9:30pm. God give me strength.






This video actually shows 2 songs by Asa (Ah-shah). Fire on the Mountain is my favorite song on the CD. Tell me what you think.

Monsoon Wedding

April 17, 2010

I woke up bright and early Saturday morning to accompany Auntie Bose to the market to purchase material and ready-made outfits to take home with me. She told me not to talk, just to point at what I wanted and she would negotiate the price. There were hawkers on the street selling foodstuff and toys while small shops held their doors open to display the goods inside. We did not stop at those shops because she said they were more expensive. Instead, we continued to walk until we came to a cramped alleyway barely large enough for 2 people to walk abreast comfortably. The small stalls only accommodated the seller and the patrons had to stand outside and point to what they wanted. The heat and stench were stifling even in the early morning hours. We stopped at a few stalls that sold beautifully dyed materials and clothing. She said that they still knew that I was a stranger and wouldn't go as low as she wanted. We didn't have time to keep trying to find lower prices, so we settled. We hurriedly bought what I wanted and started back to the house to get ready for the wedding.

The lady from the salon came to the house to tie the gele' this time. After dressing, the driver took Renny, the girls, and I to the church. Onome was already there because he was standing in the place of the father of the bride. There was another wedding also held at the church, and the attendants were just sitting down outside for the reception. When we walked to the entrance for our wedding, Mimi, Onome's oldest sister, was standing outside visibly upset. We learned that the heavy rain from the night before had pooled on the reception tent and caused it to collapse. They didn't know if it could be recovered before the reception.

After the Catholic mass, everyone walked to the front with an offering for the couple and was sprinkled with "holy water" before greeting the new bride and groom. Everyone was beautifully arrayed in their orange and brown geles and other regalia. We danced out of the church and stood on the church steps snapping pictures. We proceeded to the reception where everything with the tents had been rectified before the guests arrived. Upon arrival, two men in suits tried to prevent guests from entering even though there was no guest list for them to know who should be there. It was so chaotic. Renny pleaded that the grandchildren should be allowed inside and they reluctantly let us pass.

The tent was beautifully decorated with brown and orange draped across the posts and gold accents on the tables. There were subtle hints of the tent collapse, like grains of sand on the table cloth, but all else was just right. The wedding cake was a towering 4 layers of orange on a table up front. The friends of the parents danced in with them followed by the bride and groom escorted by their friends. They danced alone at the front and then the emcee told their friends to join them. After a song or two, he told the friends to sit down so the parents could dance. He said, "The friends will dance all night without spraying, but the parents and older people will spray the couple."

After the reception, we hung around while everyone else from the house went home. Someone finally told the bride and her mother what happened to the tent and showed them the video. Mrs. K. was speechless.

Traditionally, the bride goes back to her home for a final goodbye to her family before being welcomed to the groom's family. The reception was in Ikeja near the groom's (family) home, and it would take nearly an hour to go the bride's (family) home in Fair Stock. The MOB, aunts, sisters, and cousins gathered in a small circle under the tent and sang songs in Yoruba and English, then prayed for Anne in her new life. She had changed from her wedding dress to a pink gown and knelt before her elders as they prayed. Onome prayed as the male head of the family. Osaze's family sent a car to pick up Anne and we followed behind them to the house. Her mother did not follow and the father also would have gone home, but Onome chose to just be the big brother for this part of the ceremony. Her new family welcomed her to the family with songs. They offered drinks to the guests. We prayed and went on our way after about 30 minutes.

The day was full of joy and excitement, and I'm glad I was able to be part of it all. I started packing for my long journey home the following day. There was a prayer of thanksgiving to be held at the church on Sunday for the final act of the wedding, but I would not attend due to my flight.

A Very Long Engagement

April 15, 2010
We played beauty shop last night, untwisting and detangling "The Supremes’" hair until almost 2am. Renny woke up early this morning to wash and style their hair for the special day ahead. There was lots of activity in the house as everyone prepared for the wedding. It’s also Mr. Bello’s birthday. The engagement/traditional ceremony was scheduled to begin at 12pm, but everyone assumed it would start much later (African Time). We left the house late and made a quick stop at a salon to tie our gele (gay-lay). The gele is a piece of cloth that is tied ornately (or not) around the head. It sounded like thunder as the stylist folded and tied the stiff fabric around my head covering my ears. It was extremely tight and pulled my face and eyes up at least 2 inches I’m sure. Who needs a facelift when you can tie a gele.



We arrived in Fair Stock around 2pm and things were just getting started. The ceremony was under a tent in a vacant lot next to the bride’s family home. Their family is from I___ and the groom’s family is from Edo state, so they had different rituals to perform during the engagement. There were traditional dancers from both sides. The emcee had more collections than a Pentecostal church – “Please contribute to the band…the dancers…the bride…the groom, etc.” Just when you think you’ve given your last offering, they ask for more money. The families gave cola nuts, drinks, and money to the elders on each side. The groom was escorted to the ceremony surrounded by the dancers and his parents. Later, he along with his parents and elders from his tribe met with elders from the bride’s tribe to negotiate the bride price. Onome was part of this meeting because he was the oldest son and stood in the place of their (deceased) father. The bride price was more for show than anything else. They “agreed” on 1.5 million naira.

The bride was finally escorted into the tent alongside her groom surrounded by the dancers and elders in the Ikeja way. She wore a beautiful lime green gele and dress while he wore white robes. (He actually looked Simoan to me, but his parents are Nigerian.) They danced together and were sprayed by the guests. They sat down to take pictures, danced some more, and went back inside the house. The emcee announced that they were coming back to the ceremony in the Adu tradition. The bride changed into a wrap and was adorned in beads around her head and neck to match the beads that her new husband and his tribe wore. The elders from each side prayed for the couple. Then, there was more singing, dancing, and picture taking. The ceremony eventually ended around 7pm and we left around 8pm.




When we arrived at home, we celebrated Mr. Bello’s birthday with 2 different cakes – both very delicious. A few of his friends came over to toast him and join the celebration. Before the guests arrived, the consensus in the house was that I should have a Nigerian name - Chioma. It is an Igbo name that means "God is Good" or "good luck/fortune", but everyone in the house speaks Yoruba as do most people in Lagos. They thought it was most fitting for me after going through a short list of possible names. I was still dressed in my wedding attire when the guests arrived, and I confused them when I talked. They said I looked like a Nigerian, but I didn’t sound like a Nigerian. The hosts told them my new name and they called me Chioma a couple of times. It was my turn to be confused. I didn’t realize they were talking to me. One of those guests offered to show me around the city the following evening.

Overall, it was a wonderful day full of tradition and memories that will last a lifetime. I was thrilled to participate in the engagement ceremony and to wear traditional clothing along with all the other beautiful people dressed in brilliant materials and patterns. Plus, I like my new name. Maybe I should make it official and fill in the blank on my birth certificate. (Trivia: What blank am I referring to?)


"Chioma"



"The Supremes"

“Where are you from?”

April 12, 2010
Today, I went to the market with Renny and Aunty Bose. The market was on the side of a road, and we parked in what would probably be the shoulder or a sidewalk in the US. There were cars crammed into that space, and I couldn’t see how we would ever get out. The “area boys” who told us we could park there said that we should leave the keys. Aunty Bose was reluctant, but finally gave them the keys. We walked to the main shopping area where I tried to hold my breath. The smell was horrendous. We walked around the crowded, dirty, sweltering market until they found what they wanted, and I felt like I’d lost 5 pounds from sweating so much. We walked back to the car praying that it would still be there. It wasn’t exactly where we left it and it was surrounded by several more cars. How were we supposed to get out of that jumble? At that point, the “valet” walked up and started moving the cars behind our car and narrowly dodging other cars parked on the road. Driver’s Ed. never taught me how to park like that.

"Valet" parking


After the market, we headed to the tailor to get my dresses altered for Thursday and Saturday. When the tailor heard that I was American, she treated me like royalty. Not really, but she was nicer to me. Aunty Bose told her that I was interested in taking more dresses home with me, and the tailor offered to make them at no cost for me. We planned to go to another market to buy material, but she told us that the shop across from her sold better quality than what is found in the market. It is also more expensive. I’m sure they scratched each other’s backs all the time. We bought the material anyway and told her we would pick it up later in the week.
After leaving the tailor, we went to Mr. Bello’s office. He took us to a late lunch at a popular restaurant where we had pounded yam, efor “vegetable” stew, stuck fish for me and goat for them. Stuck fish is dried cod that is later cooked in a sauce. The server brought it to the table and cut it up for me. It looked painful just watching her cut that tough meat, but I decided to try it anyway. I tried to bite into a small piece and felt like I might lose my teeth. It was so tough to chew. I gave up and just ate the yam.

Pounded yam



Before going home, Mr. Bello decided to stop at an old friend’s house that was around 75 years old. He introduced me as "his daughter’s friend from America". The man asked where I was from in America, and I told him I live in Houston, TX. He asked where my parents were from as he studied my face. Then he asked, “Are you from Nigeria?” I reminded him that I was American. He said, “Yes, but where are you from in Africa?” I told him I didn’t know, but it was most likely somewhere in western Africa. This prompted a conversation about the slave trade and how we Africans in America have no memory of our origins. Mr. Bello told us that he visited a slave port in Ghana and how unimaginable it was to think that people were shipped from that place never to see home again and many times they were sold by their own people for trinkets. I asked them if schools in Nigeria taught about the slave trade, but they did not remember learning much about it in school. Renny asked if I felt at home in Nigeria, like maybe there was part of me that reconnected and felt familiar in this land. Maybe if I had that feeling it meant that my ancestors were form that area. I didn’t really feel that way in Nigeria. (In fact, there is only one place where I have ever felt that I truly belonged and my spirit felt at peace there.) Maybe if I visited Ghana, or Mali, or Niger, or Cameroon, or some other country, I would feel that I was finally at my African (original) home in my spirit. As I flew into Cairo, I did feel elated about being in Africa in general. (Even though Egypt doesn’t believe it is African.) I felt like I should kiss the African ground when I walked outside the airport to say that I was home, but I didn’t.



I plan to come back to Africa many times in my life. I hope one day soon I will be able to answer the question “Where are you from?” with “I am from ________.”, and say it confidently and definitively.


Post script – I felt most connected to the African continent when I stood on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean later in my stay.

Party Like It’s 1999…

April 10, 2010
On Saturday afternoon, we attended a wedding reception for Aunty Bose’s son’s best friend. As I stated previously, you don’t have to know the couple to go to the wedding. No invitation required. The church ceremony started at 11, but we did not attend. Instead, we arrived at the reception at University of Lagos (UniLag) at 2pm thinking that we would get there a little after it started factoring in African Time. As we were walking into the hall, we learned that the church ceremony had just ended. I could not imagine a 3-hour wedding. They told me that the norm is usually around 1-1.5 hours for the Catholic ceremony, but this one doubled because of all the dignitaries present who had to be acknowledged. The bride’s father was a government official. Bode told us to keep our purses and cameras close to us because of pickpockets and thieves. A wedding is a prime target for criminals because there are so many unsuspecting people with money in one place. In fact, sometimes the families hire police to escort them to their homes to prevent armed robbers from attacking when they see all the gifts and money given to the couple at the wedding.

There were so many beautifully dressed people around me. The primary color for the Aso Oke (ah-sho oh-kay) and decorations was gold with woven sand-colored gele’ (gay-lay). Even those who did not wear the aso oke were dressed impeccably. We were escorted to the front after the militant ushers heard that we were friends of the bride and groom from abroad, which was only half true. Those of us who were from abroad did not even know the couple, but we went along with the rouse to get a good seat. There were probably 2000 people there. We also participated in the processional for the bridal party. All the friends danced down the aisle in twos and then separated to form 2 lines for the bridal party to dance in between us (Soul Train line). The governor of Lagos State, Babatunde Fashola, attended the reception along with many other dignitaries. The emcee told all the bride’s friends from abroad to come to the front to take a picture with the governor. Renny and I were prompted to get up again since we were “friends from abroad”.
After the food (that never ran out), speeches from the couple as well as family and friends, and the cake cutting, the real party began. The bride seemed to dance tirelessly. Many people joined the couple on the dance floor and “sprayed” them with money (made it rain). The bride and groom took a break from dancing to take more photos. The people who remained on the dance floor sprayed other dancers. Even Jite, Renny’s 3-yr old, danced with another little girl and was sprayed.
It was a fun event for all of us and it somewhat prepared me for the wedding to follow on Thursday. Onome told me his sister’s wedding wouldn’t be as big, but it was sure to be spectacular.

Wedding for government official's daughter...millions of naira

Amount of money most guests spent on gifts for the couple...zero naira

Seeing Jite getting sprayed and stuffing the money in her "breast"...Priceless!

"De Nile is not just a river in Egypt…"

I looked out the window of the plane as the pilot announced that we were starting our descent into Cairo. All I could see was sand, then sand-colored building, a river, and more sand. I also saw 3 large pyramids and several smaller pyramids and the sphinx in the distance. When the plane finally landed, I felt the heat outside as I walked from the plane to the terminal. After some confusion on whether I should go through Customs or the transit counter, I purchased an Egyptian visa without showing any ID for $15 from a bank. I then walked through customs with my own escort. (Aside: As I walked around in a circle, I saw various airport personnel pull out their prayer mats at different times and pray in a corner or an open spot on the floor.) I went to Baggage Claim and saw that my bags were the last 2 to be collected from my flight. I walked over to the information counter and asked about tours around the city. I settled with a company that would take me to the Egyptian Museum, outside the pyramids at Giza, around the city, to dinner, and then take me back to the airport.

My guide, Tarek, was very helpful and knowledgeable about the city and country as a whole. My first impression of Cairo was that it was dirty, but not in the sense of piles of garbage and waste everywhere. Rather, there was a lot of sand and dust everywhere because it’s the desert. It is a city of ruins after all. There was lots of traffic on the way to the museum from the airport. The 2-lane road became 3.5 (.5 for motorcycles). Tarek pointed out different buildings, like the Military Academy where Anwar Sadat, Muammar Gaddafi, and Saddam Hussein were trained. “Good things come out of that academy”, he said sarcastically. We passed President Moubarek’s gated estate, as well as palaces built by former kings. There was also a memorial dedicated to the October 1973 war with Israel, the last war between the 2 countries. It seemed like he uttered “mosque, mosque” every 5 minutes indicating that I should take pictures of yet another mosque. Egypt is a country comprised of 85% Muslims and 15% Christians, and “Everyone lives in harmony.”, according to him. At least that’s what THEY want us to believe.

The Egyptian Museum was amazing. The artifacts were either originals or replicas of pieces that were found in tombs and other excavated sites in the country. There was also a new exhibit on missing/stolen relics that should have been there and where the pieces were being held. The most prominent artifact was the Rosetta Stone, which is being held captive at the British Museum. (I know it’s there because I saw it with my own eyes.) In a small, almost hidden corner of the museum was a small collection of 10 or so Greek and Roman statues and busts. They looked so out of place relative to the rest of the collection. I took a few “unauthorized” pictures until someone yelled at me. I walked out of the museum at closing time to the sound of the call to prayer as the sun set. There was a mosque across the street. The rest of my tour would be in the dark.

We drove along the side of the River Nile, and then over it and took a few pictures on the bridge. Tarek asked if I wanted to do a dinner cruise on the Nile, but I thought that was a bit too touristy (says the tourist) and expensive. I wanted to see more of the city. He took me to the obligatory shops where most tour guides take their customers and get commissions form the stores. The first store sold glass, jewelry, and body oils. The owner showed me how they make the oils and handed me a list of all the scents and their purpose. I was not interested. Next, we went to a papyrus show where the proprietor showed me how the paper was/is made. The stalk is first cut into pieces and trimmed. Then, flattened as much as possible and soaked in water to cure. The strips are thatched together until the paper is the desired size and for days to dry. I walked around the shop and found a ready-made papyrus that could be customized with my name. I received a 30% “discount” because I was the last customer of the night. I’m sure I was still overcharged because they had to pay Tarek’s commission, but I really liked my selection and did not have time nor energy to look for something cheaper somewhere else.

We went to Giza to view the pyramids and sphinx from outside. I arrived minutes before they closed and turned off the lights. I could only see the silhouettes, but that was good enough for me. One day I will go back & see more in the daylight. I went to dinner at a restaurant that served traditional food without a menu. The waiter asked if I wanted chicken, beef, or shrimp. A few minutes later, he brought out a huge basket of flatbread surrounded by eggplant, cabbage, white beans, chick peas, and 2 kinds of dipping sauces. My main course was chicken kebabs with white rice and fries followed b ice cream. From my seat in the restaurant, I could look down on the traffic below, and I could also see 2 pyramids in front of me on the other side of the road, It was amazing to me to be sitting in a city where people built these great monuments thousands of years ago.

Tarek told me he was going to take me to “Old Cairo”. I thought I was already in old Cairo. The city has been there for over 5000 years. (It reminded me of when I was a little girl and asked my mother how new was the New Testament. She told me it was very old, and I asked her if it was older than my grandmother. I thought it was just written recently. Why else would they call it “new”?) Old Cairo was very crowded even at night, and most of the people out were male. That is the only area where I saw garbage piles and smelled unpleasant odors. There were many stray cats in the street. I noticed lots of stray cats around the museum too. I only saw a couple of stray dogs while there.

By that time, I was really tired. I kept yawning as he pointed out more and more mosques. I finally said I wanted to go back to the airport around 10:30pm. He was willing to drive me around all night, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. I did not want to fall asleep in the car with a strange man in a strange city at night by myself. I camped out in a 24-hour restaurant in the airport. The manager told me it was okay for me to stay there until 6am when it was time for me to pick up my boarding pass for my 8:15 flight to Lagos. There was a long booth along the wall where I slept, read, ate, slept, and talked to the workers. There was also a restroom in the restaurant for me to freshen up. Later in the night, a man had the same idea as me and slept on the opposite end of the wall. Later, I saw him on my flight.

Six o’clock finally arrived and I bid farewell to the restaurant manager who checked on me off and on during the night. He even told me that he would wake me up so I wouldn’t oversleep, but I was already awake. He along with most of the other airport workers and people I met in the city were very nice and seemed to read from the same script. They would ask where I was from and then say, “Welcome to Egypt” or “Welcome to my country”. I picked up my boarding pass, checked my bags, and waited for my flight to start boarding. I had a little time left, so I walked around the terminal. There were a couple of shops and eateries grouped together. As I passed a bar, I saw Michael Jackson’s “Remember the Time” video. I stopped to watch thinking how ironic it was that I was watching that particular video in Egypt.

A short time later, I went to my gate to board a bus that took us to the plane in the middle of the tarmac. I was no longer in 1st class. I sat in my usual window seat and thought I might have the row to myself. A few stragglers came on and a young man sat next to me in a row of 3. I thought he would move to the aisle seat when no one else came to our row, but he stayed in that middle seat. He seemed to have no awareness of personal space. I know that is a “Western” concept, and I am even more conscientious of personal space than most others, but I couldn’t understand why he thought it was okay for his newspaper to spread to my area or his arm to push my elbow off the armrest. His friend had a whole row to himself right behind us. This guy obviously was not going to move. I stood to go to the restroom and saw that there were several empty rows. On the way back to my seat, I moved my bag from the overhead bin and sat on one of those empty rows. I could finally relax. The flight attendant made an announcement as we started our descent to tell us she would be spraying the cabin with a required non-toxic spray to kill all the parasites we might be bringing into the country I assume. As the plane landed, my former neighbor and his friend stood up and walked to the back of the plane. The flight attendant told them to sit down, but they kept walking. He (flight attendant) yelled at them, they finally sat, then stood up again to look in a bag. The other passengers looked at them and shook their heads. I gave the “space invader” the side eye. When we arrived at the gate and everyone could safely stand to collect their items, those guys walked to the back of the plane again to the annoyance of all the passengers standing in the aisles waiting to deplane. I don’t know if it was their first time flying, or maybe they were unaware of the additional scrutiny placed on Nigerians since the “attempted bombing” in December that made people very wary of their actions.

Thank God I made it to Naija safe and sound where Onome was waiting for me at the airport. Renny and the girls were waiting in the car and drove up after Onome told them he found me. I was so happy to see them all, because our last time together was in 2008. Let the Nigerian adventures began.

Sunrise, Sunset…

Sunrise

My journey to The Motherland began on Wed. afternoon. My cousin took me to the airport where I checked my bags, ate lunch, and waited to board the plane. I took the longest route possible – Houston to London to Cairo to Lagos. I think the flight was so indirect because I used my frequent flier miles. I flew 1st class from Houston to Cairo, and watched the movie Precious while eating dinner. I sat there balling my eyes out 36,000 feet in the air surrounded by strangers. The flight attendant offered drinks and dessert while I was wiping my eyes; I’m sure she thought something was seriously wrong with me. After that movie, I only wanted to watch comedies the rest of the trip.

I opened my window to see the sun setting on North America before we crossed the Atlantic Ocean. I slept for a few hours and then woke up to see the sun rising over Europe. I’m glad we crossed the ocean in the dark, because seeing all that water scares me. Knowing that my seat cushion turns into a flotation device is not comforting in the least bit. I arrived at Heathrow Airport early Thursday morning. The airport knew that a special guest had arrives and made arrangements for a Benz to pick me up. I took pity on the other passengers and allowed them to ride with me to the next terminal. Actually, the airport shuttle bus was a Benz, but I know they planned it just for me. After arriving in the new terminal, I looked for my gate, but the gate # was not displayed. Instead, the screen showed a time when the gate # would be displayed 30-45 minutes before boarding. All passengers sat in the same waiting area of the terminal until it was time for their respective gates to be displayed. Basically, there is a mall 1/3 size of The Galleria inside that terminal where passengers are forced to wait until they know where to go. The retailers have a captive audience. Most people do not sit still while waiting; They walk around this “mall” and buy drinks, food, clothing, jewelry, electronics, etc. The genius who came up with this layout was probably given a key to the palace.

I walked around for a while since I’d sat so long on the plane. One thing that stood out in the Duty Free shop was a huge sign that said “Smoking Kills”. At first, I thought it was a joke or a sign posted by an anti-tobacco vigilante. However, as I stepped up for a better view, I realized that this same message was on all the cigarette cartons in huge letters taking up nearly the entire box. There was also another label that read “Smoking seriously harms you and others around you.” Wow, those Brits do not play with the tobacco companies.
Finally, my gate # was displayed, and I walked over to board the plane to Egypt. Muzak boomed (you didn’t know Muzak could boom?) on the speakers and "Sunrise, Sunset" was the last song I heard before stepping on the plane. I sat next to a young man whose wife and 4-year old son sat across the aisle. We chatted briefly as the rest of the passengers filed in. I asked him if it was his son’s first time flying, and he said he’s flown several times. In fact, he flew to India for the first time when he was less than 2 months old. That little boy is off to a great start.

I chose to watch “Up in the Air” for my in-flight entertainment while flying to Cairo. There were various points in the movie where the sound cut out and came back. However, at the end, there was a long section where I could hear music and see the mouths moving, but I could not hear the words they were saying. That was a bad bootleg. I told the flight attendant what was happening, and he restarted the whole system. I did not have time to start over and just to see the end. I will have to watch the movie again later to see what I missed. Please no spoilers.

Sunset

Home Again

I made it home last night. I wrote a lot about about my experience, but I did not have internet access to blog real-time. I will begin posting about my trip later this week and continue to update until I get them all done.

Stay tuned...

The Countdown...

Today, I celebrated Easter with the Iwus and their family. They answered some of my questions about Nigeria and told me that it is like nothing I've ever seen. I'm presuming that's a good thing. I also tried a traditional dish called moy moy (sp), which is made of beans. I have never liked beans or peas since childhood, but I really enjoyed the moy moy. I'm sure I'll have no problems with food in Lagos, because I'm pretty adventurous when it comes to food.

Tomorrow, I start taking the malaria pills. The recommendation is to take them 2 days before arrival, everyday while there, and 7 days after returning.

I will leave home on Wednesday with a long layover in Cairo on Thursday, and arrive in Nigeria on Friday. I've decided that I will get my Egyptian visa at the airport so that I can leave for a few hours to see the Egyptian Museum and have dinner before returning for my connection to Lagos. I'm not planning to take my laptop, which will be hard for an internet junkie like me, but I will definitely write about my experience while I'm there. If I have access to the internet, then you'll see me post updates real time. Otherwise, I'll post when I return.

Bon voyage (to me)!

Travel Writer

Periodically, my mother tells me I should be a writer. I always disagree, because 1)she's my mother and she thinks every thing I do is great. That's just how mothers are; and 2) I don't actually like writing. I did it in school because it was required, but I've never really been a fan of just writing on my own. Except, sometimes I get in the mood for it. I might journal for several days in a row, then stop abruptly and pick it back up months (or a year) later. I actually enjoy writing about my experiences sometimes. Writing this travel blog is both creative and therapeutic for me. I also enjoy reading about other people's travel experiences, like those who inspired me to first chronicle my trip to India. I hope I inspire people to travel and write the way they influenced me.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a Facebook status saying that I want to be a travel writer after reading a couple of travel magazines and articles online. A week later, my friend sent me an email about a travel writing class at a local college. I will start that class later this month. I also joined www.blackatlas.com, a website sponsored by American Airlines for people to share and learn about travel experiences around the world from a black perspective.

I appreciate all of my "50,000 coaches", but especially my mother and my friend, Tiffany for encouraging me to pursue being a travel writer.

Stay tuned...

By the way, can anyone guess the movie with the phrase "50,000 coaches"? Reply in the comments for this post.

Buzz off, mosquito!

Several people have asked me if I'm getting any vaccines for my trip to Nigeria. Thankfully, I received the recommended vaccines for Nigeria when I went to India, and my company paid for them. If I had to pay for them on my own, it would be almost like buying another plane ticket. Many travel vaccines and medications are not covered by insurance. The only medicine I plan to take is Malarone, the malaria pills. I picked them up today at a cost of $153. Since I'm paying out of pocket this time, I will take every single one of those pills. No leftovers. I also have some Cipro left over from India that I never used. Maybe I should check the expiration date. lol


Here's my checklist of things to do for the trip:
Purchase ticket - done
Apply for Nigerian visa - done
Get malaria pills (Remember how well that went in India? lol - done
Send measurements for dress - done
Research the Lagos area for things of interest, dress, local norms - in progress
Apply for Egyptian visa - research says I can purchase it at the airport, but I'm going to keep looking
Research things to do in Cairo (Will I have enough time to go to Giza?) - in progress

Bright Idea...

I had a flash of brillance while on a flight yesterday. I keep seeing posters in the airport for all the countries where Continental flies, and it made me think of something. I am a member of their One Pass Mileage program, and they recently joined Star Alliance. My idea is to set a goal to fly on all 26 members of Star Alliance within 5 years. I'll revisit this plan periodically to see where I stand. My trip to Nigeria will cover 3 of the member airlines.

You're going where?!?!

When I first interned in Houston in 2002, I had the good fortune to work with a beautiful lady with a funny accent. (I know, I know...I have a funny accent to someone too. lol) She introduced me to her family and we developed a great friendship. She thought I was a little weird because I would sometimes go to the (not so clear) Clear Lake to read during lunch...by myself. gasp
We kept in touch even after I left Houston. She moved to London for a year and I stayed with her and her family while I was there. I also had the opportunity to meet her sister in person in London after talking to her on the phone several times. After she moved back to Houston, her sister's family came to visit and I hung out with them again.

I visited with my friend last December, and she mentioned that her sister was going to their native place soon. I've told her since 2002 that I wanted to go with them, but the circumstances were never right. Either I was in school, I didn't have the funds, or it was a last minute trip. This time, I knew I was in a place where I could go. I connected with her sister through the magic of Facebook and told her I was interested in going with her family (husband and 3 girls) on their next trip. She told me her husband's sister was getting married in April and I was welcomed to come with them. That was all I needed to hear. I started making arrangements right after that.

Where am I going? I'm going to Lagos, Nigeria. Why am I going to a wedding when I don't know the couple? Unlike American weddings, Nigerians (and many other cultures) welcome everyone to attend their celebrations. The whole village will be there, and I'll be in the middle of it all. They will have a traditional engagement ceremony and a Catholic marriage ceremony. Everyone on the bride's side will wear specific colors, likewise for the groom's side. I'm included in the bride's family, so I will wear her colors. I'm excited about seeing a traditional ceremony, because I've only ever attended American weddings, which are basically all the same in my opinion.

I also have a long layover in Cairo on both legs of the trip, and I'm planning to leave the airport each time to do a little exploring. I have no idea what I'm going to do there, but I just think it would be a waste to spend all that time inside the airport when I could at least walk outside and get a meal or buy a souvenir.

Here's my checklist of things to do for the trip:
Purchase ticket - done
Apply for Nigerian visa - done
Get malaria pills (Remember how well that went in India? lol )- in progress
Send measurements for dress - done
Research the Lagos area for things of interest, dress, local norms - in progress
Apply for Egyptian visa - research says I can purchase it at the airport, but I'm going to keep looking
Research things to do in Cairo (Will I have enough time to go to Giza?) - in progress

Check back for more updates on my trip preparation.