ktravula – a travelogue!

Just Wondering, Just Wandering

or Astral Travel in 600 words.

The Nigerian writer and critic Ikhide Ikheloa is disillusioned about many things, and does not shy away from saying them in his frank and often witty essays at the Nigeria Village Square, African Writer.com or in the Nigerian Newspaper, NEXT – the wasted opportunity of Nigerian Pro-Democracy Activists to right the wrongs of the country when it eventually got into their hands after decades of military rule, and the portrayal of Africans by Africans themselves in movies, novels and plays written for the Western market. He has written this guest post about his positive perception of technology as the new reality – the new weapons of navigating the labyrinths of the world.

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The writer-traveler Kola Tubosun visited me in Washington DC a few months ago. We had a great time. We had never met physically; however our spirits had been communing for several moons through the Internet. I do enjoy the company of African writers even though most of these meetings have been mostly on cyberspace. The Internet is today the world’s number one wonder, offering new opportunities and challenges and taunting our expectations of community. I know now from living on the Internet that the human spirit is superior to the flesh, unless when you are having really good sex. Every now and then I actually meet someone I have known on the Internet for a long time. The meetings are always joyful reunions, flesh pressing flesh in celebration of the indomitable spirit.

Travel and communication are abiding mysteries. Life is energy, restlessness and movement – of the body and spirit. The mind wanders and travels everywhere bearing gifts, burdens, and anxieties. I often reflect on the awesome power of the airplane and the first (foolish) passenger who hoped to return to land after the flight. Today, unmanned drones hit men praying in caves thousands of miles away from the Nevada desert.

In Nigeria, when we were little, we would string together two empty tins of condensed milk and try to communicate with the result. It was awesome hearing your friend’s voice on the other end. Today, my eleven year old son is a digital native. His Smartphone is his flashlight, jukebox, Internet access and remote control. He has built an electronic fence around himself, and only allows access to those who have earned it. If it would just uncork my bottle of Malbec, now, that would be powerful.

In Africa, citizens have been mercifully spared the tyranny of inefficient state-sponsored telecommunications. Cell phones are ubiquitous and have muscled their way into the lexicon of popular African culture. In Nigeria, people are using cell phones for robust commerce. They are also empowering women and children, restoring to them the privacy denied them in a paternalistic analog world.

The Internet offers us amazing new opportunities to reconnect with the best of each other. New and emerging technologies are redefining our traditional notion of exile. It is now the norm to communicate with Africa in real time from anywhere in the world. I sometimes click on Google Earth and visit my childhood haunts. For me, exile doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I left home three decades ago.

Tubosun’s travels around America remind us that new and emerging technologies are redefining our traditional notion of exile. I salute the bravery and tenacity of the new writers and travelers. I salute the writers of generations before, warriors like Nnamdi Azikiwe, Flora Nwapa, Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Ama Ata Aidoo, Dennis Brutus, etc, who traveled to strange places of the heart and this world armed with nothing but their imagination and returned to teach us about the things they had learnt in their restlessness. They were our freedom fighters, teachers, entertainers and Internet access. Theirs was a crushing burden and they bore it with grace. Today the wonders of computer technology and modern travel make it possible for the individual to become a municipality of one and ignore the new criminals in black ravaging the land. We may be losing our best minds to narcissism. These new tools should empower us to help our people. Who are our freedom fighters today? What is the role of the African writer in the emancipation of Africa? Do we have an obligation to use our gifts to fight for much needed change in the land of our ancestry? I strongly and passionately believe so. There is so much to celebrate in the resurgence of African writing; our suffering people deserve some of the dividends. There is hope. It is up to us.

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Ikhide writes from xokigbo@yahoo.com, and I thank him for this wonderful expose. I don’t know what I’d have done without access to the internet and these new tools of technology, so his perspective resonates strongly with me and the purpose of this blog, which is to explore new ways of interacting with the world and confronting challenges of present generations with the means of information technology. Past guest-posts can be read here.

Her First Story

A guest-post by Jolaade Adesanya

as narrated by Yemi Adesanya

She was extremely excited at the first mention of the request from uncle Kola, to write something for his blog. Then the big question came when it was time to settle down to it “why does he want me to write, mummy?”. “I think he wants to know what you think about different things.” “OK!”. She then began to tell me the different things she’d like him to know about – she loves babies (a neighbor has just delivered a baby girl, she is now a regular visitor to their home), she doesn’t like the school bus (mum/dad should take her to school instead), she doesn’t like yellow buses (they are always driving roughly), she loves her daddy and mummy!, and yes she loves herself, because she loves babies!

What goes on in a 4 yr old girl’s mind is beyond me, mine is always asking difficult questions, questions that leave you wondering if she is not some old woman re-incarnate. The latest question that got me wondering; “if someone is getting married, will they have the wedding in the girls mummy’s church?”.

Her story is as follows:

My name is Jojo, my uncle calls me that.

I love myself, I love my mummy, I love my daddy

I don’t like people driving rough

I like eating fried egg and yam

Mrs Oladimeji is always dozing in the class.

STOP

It was impossible convincing her to write her name, instead of Joojoo, she definitely wants uncle Kola to know the pet name given her by uncle Kunle!

She promised to continue writing this story, but for now, a road marker STOP marks the end.

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Jolaade Adesanya is my lovely four and a half year-old niece, and she writes from Lagos, Nigeria. The first mention of her on this blog was way back in August when I first went to Six Flags. You can read the entry here.

Yemi Adesanya is my accountant sister who works in Lagos and who has been a very lovely, very dependable, and equally a very delightfully mischievous sibling. If you want to find her, head over here. Of course you may have to buy shoes or bags in the process. She sells them in her spare time instead of writing which, as you can see, could as well have been her vocation as well.

Jolaade’s picture courtesy of Chris Ogunlowo.

Let no one ask me why she chose to paint her face when the photo was about to be taken, or whether it is standard procedure for children of this age to paint their faces like that. You will have to figure it out for yourself 😀

Have a nice weekend.

Lost in Birmingham

This is a guest post by one of my “veteran” readers and commenters from Lagos, Nigeria now living in Birmingham, UK. Adeleke Adesanya is a literary spirit in an accountant’s/economist’s bottle, and I am not sure that he has successfully resolved the conflict that those almost opposite preoccupations of money and literature must pose to the stability of his mind. Along with his beautiful wife and daughter, he runs the shoes, bags and clothing outfit in Lagos called Laurensonline and has been a supporter of this blog and blogger for a long time. Now a student in the United Kingdom, he has sent this beautifully written reaction to the weather, environment, language and people of Birmingham. I hope you enjoy this as I did.

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I have often found that when I put pen to paper, it is easier to express my feelings and thoughts than the sight and sounds around me. Perhaps, this is because I am often so lost in thought, and I don’t look around so much, and this is why, I find, I keep my losing my way. Perhaps this also allows me to say a lot about the environment in a way a visual description would not allow. Nothing expresses better the warm welcome I received on arrival in Birmingham than how my mind related to its cold weather.

Getting lost in Lagos was no big deal. I confess my propensity to get lost, in the marketplace of my mind, is an old habit. Many a times I had driven straight ahead to Ojota, on the way to Victoria Island, because at that split second when I should have turned right towards the Third Mainland Bridge, I was lost in thought, pondering perhaps the similarities between Buddhism’s belief in reincarnation and that of Yoruba native beliefs. I would find this ironic and maybe funny, considering I had, un-Buddha-like, been unable to drive “in the moment”.

But getting lost in Lagos is a piece of cake. You might have to drive against traffic, “one way” in local parlance, to get back in track. Or you could hail an Okada, the commercial motorcyclist, to take you through back roads, back to your destination. And then, as a Yoruba proverb hints, you aren’t yet really lost in Lagos if you do ask around for directions.Getting lost in Brume is a different pot of stew. I am not so crazy as to attempt driving myself; they drive on the wrong side of the road, you see. My right to travel is entirely dependent on route schedules determined by local transport companies.

As soon as I find a seat on a bus and look through the pane onto those cold, snow covered streets, my mind retreats into its marketplace, ruminating over morbid thoughts like, if one was to die of exposure and is buried in this cold, frozen land, would the cadaver ever know corruption? It is not entirely strange that over and over again, I miss my bus stop and get driven around the outer circle of the town. Once I made a mistake of coming down from the bus. Picture me, unwisely clad in a suit, fending off snowflakes with bare freezing fingers. I tried to cheer myself up by singing lustily the chorus of Don Mclean’s American Pie with extra emphasis on “this would be the day that I die!”

And then I start asking for directions, which is not as simple as it appears. For one, the aborigines (whether white, Indian or Jamaican), I find, do not speak the English Language. Their accents are so thick; it is virtually another dialect, nay, language. It sometimes makes more sense to acknowledge the verbal challenges and try to communicate via sign language. Now they, I mean the natives, would politely go through detailed explanations of buses I should take and changes I must make, while I put on my best Nigerian smile. But in the end, I am in no wit wiser.

A few times, when the bus driver appeared African, I wrongly assume that linguistic challenges would easily be resolved if not eliminated. Alas, this clan is mostly of taciturn types, more eloquent in communicating by nods and grunts. I once wondered whether they had signed a pact not to speak in complete sentences in order not to betray their Nigerian accent. As if that is a bad thing…

In the end, I learnt to cope by using the internet to research my route and printing detailed maps. I also avoid travelling at night, when visibility may not be as clear. On the bright side, getting lost has its benefits. It is the perfect alibi for lateness. It makes for humorous jokes when with good company. And if you are a stranger and you really want to know the town, you really should get lost sometime. It is wonderful, the things you find and the people you meet, when you get lost, sometimes.

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He used to blog as Kiibaati, Adeleke can now be found on Twitter @adelekeadesanya.

Haggling – A Guest Post

Here is a guest post by my friend Akin, a professional photographer in the UK who tweets as Pixgremlin. His website is www.aworan.com. Asking him to write a guest-post, I had thought that I would get something along the lines of his interests in photography because – believe me – he takes some really good pictures. He didn’t. I get something along the lines of haggling – an old yet relevant cultural phenomenon among Nigerians and other Africans. By the time you finish this post, you will see why he’s not just a photographer, but a good writer too. Enjoy.

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Can you imagine haggling within the UK? Picture the scene, if you will: You walk into a shop that is selling a product that you want bad, and it so happens to be the last one in stock. You check your finances and realise that you have even less than the retail price to make any payments. “Damn! How do I get this item??” you begin to ponder. Then it dawns on you: being a native from a suppossedly ‘less economically developed nation’ (if that is the case), you feel you have certain transferrable skills that are applicable in acquiring goods and services, and that skill is the art of haggling.

So, there you are, holding the item and you make your way to the Payment Counter, with that determined look that you’ll be leaving the shop with said product in toll. The Cashier offers the obligatory smile and tallys up the cash register and repeats the amount on the tag, as is clearly labelled £750 excluding VAT. The transaction begins:

You:“Ummmm.. wouldn’t you say that this item is a bit expensive??”
Customer Service Assistant: (Trying to hurry you up since her shift ended 5 mins ago) “I guess so.. will you be paying by card?”
You: “Not really.. I think this price is a bit over the top. How about I pay £100?”
CSA:“Excuse me?”
You:“Ok, £100 is asking too much. What say I up it to £170, and that’s my final offer!”
CSA: (Clearly irate, but composing herself because The Customer is Always Right ) “Sir, all the items are of a fixed price that has been set by the company!”
You: “Ahh-ahh!! If I check the other shops, I’m sure that I can get a good deal!”
CSA: (What does she care what you do next?! With the kind of money she makes doing this job, it’s not worth doing the over time!!)“Sir, will you be purchasing the item or not??”
You: (leaning in closer to the counter, thus begining to worry the CSA) “Look, here’s the deal: I want to bargain a good deal, and I don’t plan to leave until I get what I want! I will pay £300 and that’s my last-LAST offer!”

With a line like that, you’ve only just set yourself up for the CSA to trigger the silent alarm, and before you know it her Line Manager has arrived with security.

Haggling is the subtle/dramatic/diplomatic art of negotiating for a product at a price which you can afford, since you feel and know that the original price is over inflated.

Haggling only works in the UK or some other ‘advanced nations’ within certain parametres, and its not always the case. That’s why I love going home to Nigeria, or any other country that appreciates the concept of haggling. Tried bargaining in Nigeria? It’s a rush. It help’s if you can speak or know some of the dialect or better still, your mannerism doesn’t reflect that of a tourist, but of veteran who travels alot and is not a sucker.

Picture the Scene (again!), only this time your in a busy Lagos market, where if you’re not careful, you could enter and may never come out again. You see some knick knacks that you’d like to get, being a tourist, and you negotiate with the seller, and you’re going to do so speaking pidgin:

You: “Oya, how much na ya ting?”
Vendor: “Oga, for you, I go give you good price! I dey sell am for ₦700
You: (Laughing sarcastically, but for added effect?) “₦700? Wetin do you? You sabi buy am for ₦700 self?”
Vendor: (Now has a look of distraught, in order to win sympathy for him) ” Ahh, oga. E no be like dat. Ok, I go price am for ₦480!”
You: Heh-heh!! You sef! Which kin discount be dat?” (You then make a ‘move’ to leave his shop.)
Vendor: “Ok, Oga. How much you wan buy am for?”
You: (now really trying your luck) “200″
Vendor:(Giving you a look that can’t believe you have the audacity to name such a price!) “Oga, you self, you make me laugh!” (He then makes a move to return the product back on the shelf)
You: “Why you dey look vex? Ok, I go pay ₦250, and dat be my last offer!”
Vendor: “Oga, I get pikin wey dey for my village. How I fit sell for dat kin price? I no go make profit?!?”
You: (As if you’ve never heard that line before, considering you invented it!) “Ol’ boy, which one you speak? I go buy am for ₦250 or wetin?”
Vendor: (Pauses for effect, as if weighing the pros & Cons of his profit dip ) “Ok, bring 300.”
You: “Ok, I go give you 300. Ahh-ahh!! Why you dey frown? “

It was also an experience and a half to haggle while I was India. Whenever the missus wanted a discount on a product, she didnt even bother talking to the seller. She would just ask me to step and negotiate the price. The shop owner would think that I would haggle like a European visitor. Hah!! I’m a Nigerian. Suffice to say, my haggling skills have now been revealed to the missus, and shopping will never be the same again!

Now, the art of haggling may not be applicable in most instances in these countries. It’s all a question of who’s going to blink first.

WARNING & DISCLAIMER: Haggling is not for the shy. You have to be aggresive, and most importantly, not to be a sore loser. The art of haggling may not be applicable in most instances in these countries. It’s all a question of who’s going to blink first. Have fun but don’t get carried away. I wonder if I can haggle with National rail when i renew my travel card at the end of this month? Hah!!

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Thank you Akin for this entertaining piece.

A list of previous guestposts is here.

Old Man’s Winter Guide To Beating The Snowpocalypse Blues

This is a guest-post by the blogger Rayo from Washington DC. All I know about her is that she is Yoruba, from Nigeria, and that she once attended Howard University. She also takes some very nice pictures. You can check her blog here. I’m featuring this post because for the first time in a long time according to the news, there was snow in all the states of the United States, except Hawaii. The people in the Washington DC and East Coast area were the worst hit with many feet of snow. Rayo has humorously captured her reaction to the season in twelve short informative nuggets. Enjoy.

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In the wake of the current record-breaking winter weather in the Washington, DC, area, I decided to explore my neighborhood and assess the damages that this record-breaking snowfall has caused. Boy was I surprised when I came across Old Man Winter! This little guy hasn’t been sighted in over 110 years—since the “Snowmageddon of 1899”—so it caught me by surprise when I saw him just chilling by the side of the road a few days ago. After much coaxing (he’s camera shy), my friend and I were able to convince him to pose for some photographs as well as give us some Do’s and Don’ts for surviving the Snowpocalypse. It’s a pretty good guide, especially for those that aren’t used to so much snow.

1. DO go grocery shopping before the snowfall gets too heavy. If you don’t, you might find that when you get hungry and realize that there’s nothing in the fridge, the grocery store will be closed.

2. DO take caution when “ice-walking” more than two miles under white-out conditions to your favorite Chinese food carryout because the grocery store is closed and the carryout is the only place crazy enough to stay open. Remember that, since the sidewalks will become mountains of snow, you will have to walk on the road. Make sure you’re walking in the opposite direction of traffic. This way, you’ll know when to jump when a car is sliding towards you.

3. DO buy thick gloves and a ski mask (or thick scarf) in order to prevent your hands and face from freezing and falling off while walking in hurricane-like winter conditions.

4. DO make sure you have at least two back-up means of transportation. You might wake up and find (or not find) your car in this type of situation. Not good. You might also find that the Metro buses are either out of service or are only running on “special routes,” or that only underground train stations are open and even those stations have special delays. In short, be prepared to walk.

5. DO be patient with the public transit employees. Remember that even though you don’t have to work and you’re only on your way to a snowball fight, they have to work. Plus, there’s nothing like the comfort of feeling like you’re in a meatpacking factory.

6. DO try to make it into work at least one day during the Snowpocalypse. Although you might be annoyed to discover how many people are actually going to come into your office with complaints, do try to smile as much as possible.

7. DO NOT WEAR HEELS!!! You WILL fall! Safety before vanity. If you must wear heels or open shoes, put them in a bag and change into them when you arrive safely at your destination.

8. It’s sad that I have to say this but I just saw someone wearing a pair.…DO NOT WEAR FLIP FLOPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

9. DO invest in snow boots or shoes with good traction. There’s nothing funnier than seeing someone fall face-first in 50-something inches of snow…unless the person falling is you. Although the snow might cushion your fall, it’s still better to have not fallen at all.

10. DO attend mass snowball fights—they’re a great way to get your daily exercise; practice your war-game skills; have fun in the snow; and they also help to prevent the dreaded cabin fever.

11. DO go to the movies…FOR FREE!!! There are many websites out there that allow people to attend movie premieres for free (i.e. www.eventful.com). This way, you can get a first-hand look at new movies even before they start playing in theaters. You might have to trek though the snow to get there but if the movie is good enough (and hopefully it will be good), it’ll be worth the trek.

12. DO pay homage to your fallen comrades. Here’s to the trees and umbrellas and power lines and even cars that did not survive the hurricane-like winds and heavy snow.

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Thank you Rayo for this wonderful post.

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