ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the adventures category.

Sand in My Socks

After attending the Bookjam @ Silverbird event that had in attendance writers from many corners of the world and catching up with friends and colleagues, I was talked into a visit to the Lagos Bar Beach a few about a kilometre down the road from the Galleria. We had some fun moments riding horses, picking sea shells, writing names in the sand, catching up on old times and generally being silly at the shore of the Atlantic Ocean.

One of us the Punch journalist and author of the NLNG shortlisted novel Under the Brown Rusted Roofs. It’s the girl, although the other guy seems through these pictures to love her more than I do ;).

A Vote of Thanks

My visit around (some parts of) the country could not have been possible if not for support, solicited and unsolicited by many people along the way. Half of the trip was motivated by impulse so I really appreciate the help of friends and colleagues who welcomed me with open arms without reservation, and were willing to be at my beck and call for the past three weeks.

There was Dr. Shaban in Ife, Anja and Yun Hsin at Ikare, Prof and Mrs. Oyebade at Akungba, Peter, Chiedu and Bode at Ilorin, Laolu and Mr. Olaniyan at Abuja, Zainab, Samson and Comfort in Kaduna, Alben at Nassarawa; Rotji, Yilrot and Joshua in Jos, and everyone who sent me helpful tips on Facebook, some of which I used, and some that I didn’t. Thanks should also go to Yemi, Chris, Laitan and Godwin who bailed me out when I needed their help.

So now, I’m back in Lagos for the weekend, and what did I see? A bus from the Island carrying me and a host of other passengers ran out of fuel right in the middle of the supposed longest bridge in Africa: The Third Mainland Bridge. For thirty minutes, we were there waiting for him to go to the mainland and find fuel. I spent much of the time taking pictures of the bridge and the water which was something I’d always loved to do anyway. It wasn’t such a waste of time after all, and I didn’t succeed in falling into the lagoon. That would have been a poetic end to a journey around the country.

In any case, I’m back, more refreshed. How have you all been?

Obi

Obi is a very small town about thirty minutes by car from Lafia. Unlike how the name sounds, it is not an Igbo town. It is inhabited mainly by a people called the Alago. Their language is also called by the same name, and the king is called the Usuko. As small as it is, it enjoys a relatively regular supply of electricity, a good road, and a clinic where my frien, the doctor, works. The rain of two days ago flooded much of the town and overran the main bridge. A few hours later, it had subsided and life went on as usual.

Jos, Plateau

I entered Jos with some trepidation, but with an open mind, and a five year nostalgia waiting to be assuaged. I also went with an exhilaration reserved for a beautiful place that has gone with me everywhere I went since we first met. When I left the town a few hours later in the evening of Tuesday, I left with some sadness, and a mild confusion as to where the State is headed, and where the crises will lead. On the one hand are ubiquitous police patrols at every hundred metres from Ta Hoss to Makira to Riyom, and on the other hand is a town that still moves as it always does, cheerful, without any hint of danger. Well, welcome to Jos.

Picture #3 is the sign at Kuru which reads: “Nigerian Railway Corporation: The Highest Point in Nigerian Railway. 1318.20 metres or 4324 ft above sea level.

Picture #8 is the famous Riyom rocks that have stood in that delicate design since centuries.

Picture #9 is a carver I saw in Jos, making mortar and pestles with his hand, a chisel and a wooden mallet.