I took a short walk yesterday into the Nairobi night.
I hadn’t changed any money at the airport, because I was just staying one night, and didn’t think through that I’d need to buy dinner before I slept. I ordered dinner at the hotel restaurant (‘steak’ with ugali – similar to the Nigerian ebo I wrote about earlier), and then asked if I could pay in US Dollars.
‘Yes, of course’, but when I inquired about the exchange rate that they would use I was informed that it would be 50 Kenya Shillings to the dollar – which is not nearly the standard rate of 80 Kenya Shillings to the dollar. So I asked if I could pay in the morning, and went out into the night to change 30 dollars into shillings – enough for dinner and some purchases at the airport the next day.
Having separated out the dollars I wanted to change, I stood in the hotel doorway for some time, assessing the street life to determine whether it was the kind of place for a ‘muzungu’(white man) to announce the desire to change 30 dollars. There were no other muzungus, but there were lots of people of both genders, a festive mood, and no apparent tension, so I decided it was safe enough.
I turned left towards the brighter lights, then left again to a boulevard with many people on the sidewalks, and asked a street vendor where I could change 30 dollars. My question was met with some confusion due to language difficulties, so I abandoned the inquiry, and continued looking for some sign (as yet unknown) that would tell me I’d found the person who could help me. And he came to me, not me to him.
‘I understand you want to exchange some money’ was my introduction to the apparent answer to my problem. ‘Yes, just 30 dollars’, I said, as I surveyed him to determine if this was a person I could trust for the next step in the process, which turned out to be a walk of two blocks to a club on Moi Avenue (an even more well-lit boulevard), which had an (un-armed and friendly) security guard in a uniform.
My situation was partially explained by my guide. There was unwillingness and suspicious curiosity, until I more fully explained that the hotel restaurant only wanted to give me 50 Shillings to the dollar. Ah, yes, that was unfair, and the mood shifted to helpfulness. The manager (whose name was David, so I told him my name was David also – every little connection helps), agreed to give me 70 Shillings to the dollar. The exchange was made, and I was on my way, having given the security guard my Guardian newspaper that I’d finished with and he’d expressed interest in.
My benefactor/guide, also named David (?), told me he was the supervisor of the Matatu (mini-van taxis) stand. He also told me not to talk to the women who brushed up against me and then looked directly at me – an instruction I was already following, but I thanked him for his advice. He walked me to my hotel, accepted the 100 Shillings I gave him in thanks, wished me a good flight the next day, and invited me to stay longer next time.
The walk in the Nairobi night had ended successfully and peacefully.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Nigerian food
Well, now that I’ve left Nigeria, sitting in the waiting room of the Lagos airport, I’ll comment on the food I have eaten. I need to start by saying that I’m a big fan of eating local food, wherever I am. If I want to eat Canadian food (whatever that is) at every meal, I figure I ought to stay in Canada. So, ‘when in Nigeria, eat as the Nigerians eat’.
My very first meal was not promising. I’d just arrived in Lagos and went to a guesthouse with a restaurant so I wouldn’t have to go out into the reputedly dangerous Lagos night to eat supper.
I was pleased to see that the menu contained traditional Nigerian fare – ‘ebo’ with sauces. Ebo is the Nigerian version of an almost universal sub-Saharan African basic food. It is made of one of a variety of pounded grain or root (maize, yam, cassava/manioc, millet, wheat, …) boiled in water until it has the consistency of grainy playdough, rolled into fist sized balls and placed on a plate with some ‘sauce’.
In Nigeria they call this ‘food and soup’, which reflects the perspective, wherever this is the staple food, that the starch is the ‘food’ and the rest of it – the sauce – is just something additional but not essential, similar, perhaps, to how a ‘meat and potatoes’ person in Canada might the vegetables on tbe plate.
I ordered the ‘Ebo with Goat and Vegetables’. The waitress questioned my selection with a disbelieving laugh, but I persisted, and in a few minutes I was ‘enjoying’ my Ebo with Goat and Vegetables.
Unfortunately they decided to honour me with the best cut of goat meat that they had – a shoulder with some meat on it, but mostly fat, and including the skin. I had to insult their generosity by returning the ‘best part’, having eaten only the bit of meat and vegetables that was included in the dish.
Pictured above is the last meal I had in Nigeria, at the Lagos airport. Here, you’ll notice, I chose a more Canadian fare – a passable omelet, grilled tomato, ‘baked beans’ (straight from the pork and beans can), ‘sausage’ (simple wieners), some bread and butter, and an excellent cappuccino. If I were Nigerian, I’m afraid that meal would have put me off Canadian food, so I guess we’re even.
I did, in the days in between, have some very good Nigerian food, which is featured in a short video of a 'Nigerian Food Flask', at the bottom of the blog - a technology that I would love to see in Canada. This meal restored my faith in Nigerian food – which started, oddly enough, in Nairobi, Kenya in 1991.
I was in the Mennonite Guesthouse there for about two weeks, eating American style food, prepared from sub-standard groceries by British-trained Kenyans. Needless to say, the resulting fare did none of those epicurean traditions proud. As it was, a Nigerian trio also staying there took pity on me and made me a home-cooked Nigerian meal. It Was Wonderful, and perhaps that early success is what has kept me coming back over and over again to the ‘local food table’ when traveling – a pattern I have no intention of changing, regardless of the occasional disappointment.
My very first meal was not promising. I’d just arrived in Lagos and went to a guesthouse with a restaurant so I wouldn’t have to go out into the reputedly dangerous Lagos night to eat supper.
I was pleased to see that the menu contained traditional Nigerian fare – ‘ebo’ with sauces. Ebo is the Nigerian version of an almost universal sub-Saharan African basic food. It is made of one of a variety of pounded grain or root (maize, yam, cassava/manioc, millet, wheat, …) boiled in water until it has the consistency of grainy playdough, rolled into fist sized balls and placed on a plate with some ‘sauce’.
In Nigeria they call this ‘food and soup’, which reflects the perspective, wherever this is the staple food, that the starch is the ‘food’ and the rest of it – the sauce – is just something additional but not essential, similar, perhaps, to how a ‘meat and potatoes’ person in Canada might the vegetables on tbe plate.
I ordered the ‘Ebo with Goat and Vegetables’. The waitress questioned my selection with a disbelieving laugh, but I persisted, and in a few minutes I was ‘enjoying’ my Ebo with Goat and Vegetables.
Unfortunately they decided to honour me with the best cut of goat meat that they had – a shoulder with some meat on it, but mostly fat, and including the skin. I had to insult their generosity by returning the ‘best part’, having eaten only the bit of meat and vegetables that was included in the dish.
Pictured above is the last meal I had in Nigeria, at the Lagos airport. Here, you’ll notice, I chose a more Canadian fare – a passable omelet, grilled tomato, ‘baked beans’ (straight from the pork and beans can), ‘sausage’ (simple wieners), some bread and butter, and an excellent cappuccino. If I were Nigerian, I’m afraid that meal would have put me off Canadian food, so I guess we’re even.
I did, in the days in between, have some very good Nigerian food, which is featured in a short video of a 'Nigerian Food Flask', at the bottom of the blog - a technology that I would love to see in Canada. This meal restored my faith in Nigerian food – which started, oddly enough, in Nairobi, Kenya in 1991.
I was in the Mennonite Guesthouse there for about two weeks, eating American style food, prepared from sub-standard groceries by British-trained Kenyans. Needless to say, the resulting fare did none of those epicurean traditions proud. As it was, a Nigerian trio also staying there took pity on me and made me a home-cooked Nigerian meal. It Was Wonderful, and perhaps that early success is what has kept me coming back over and over again to the ‘local food table’ when traveling – a pattern I have no intention of changing, regardless of the occasional disappointment.
Christianity in Nigeria
One striking visual of Nigeria is the predominance of religion in public life. I was in the Christian area, so it was Christianity everywhere. Churches – big churches, entire TV channels devoted to Christian programming, greetings and farewells peppered with reference to God, Christian bookstores everywhere, business names that reference Jesus or God in some way.
If God were to spread his blessing around on the basis of rhetoric and show, Nigeria would surpass Canada by so much, WE’D be the ones in poverty, and Nigerians would by flying here to help us out of our impoverished hand-to-mouth existence.
One of my favorites, and there’s a picture of it, is the ‘Divine Link Restaurant’ in Jos. How could you NOT stop in for lunch at this apparently full service establishment? I can think of many fruitful topics of conversation over lunch with the Divine.
A walk through several of the bookstores I came across revealed an interesting focus for Nigerian spirituality – success through proper Christian living. Or, as it is known in Canada, the ‘prosperity gospel’. One book made no bones about its message, ‘Name it and Claim it’ is the title.
In the picture (at the Jos airport) you see ‘The Road to Success’, ‘Muscular Christianity’ (about the successful and proper relationship between religion and sports in America), another is ‘Know your Limits – then Ignore Them’, by the same author who wrote ‘An Enemy called ‘Average’. A quick look at the back covers and contents reveals that this success and overcoming of limits comes through a proper understanding of one’s place in God’s plans, and acting on that.
Either Nigerians aren’t reading these books, or there’s a problem with the message. I’m going with the latter.
If God were to spread his blessing around on the basis of rhetoric and show, Nigeria would surpass Canada by so much, WE’D be the ones in poverty, and Nigerians would by flying here to help us out of our impoverished hand-to-mouth existence.
One of my favorites, and there’s a picture of it, is the ‘Divine Link Restaurant’ in Jos. How could you NOT stop in for lunch at this apparently full service establishment? I can think of many fruitful topics of conversation over lunch with the Divine.
A walk through several of the bookstores I came across revealed an interesting focus for Nigerian spirituality – success through proper Christian living. Or, as it is known in Canada, the ‘prosperity gospel’. One book made no bones about its message, ‘Name it and Claim it’ is the title.
In the picture (at the Jos airport) you see ‘The Road to Success’, ‘Muscular Christianity’ (about the successful and proper relationship between religion and sports in America), another is ‘Know your Limits – then Ignore Them’, by the same author who wrote ‘An Enemy called ‘Average’. A quick look at the back covers and contents reveals that this success and overcoming of limits comes through a proper understanding of one’s place in God’s plans, and acting on that.
Either Nigerians aren’t reading these books, or there’s a problem with the message. I’m going with the latter.
A hi-tech traffic light in Jos, Nigeria
Not everything in Nigeria is ‘worse than Canada’. I’ve attached a picture of a traffic light, which, contrary to first impressions beats anything I’ve seen in Canada on two counts.
First, it is solar powered – a growing sector of the economy in Nigeria. Both the house I stayed in, and the office I worked at had solar-powered back-up lighting and computer outlets. Not just for at night, but also during the day, when the local NEPA (Nigerian Electrical Power Authority(?)) would suddenly fail – a failing so frequent that one could almost say that the house and office were solar-powered, with backup from NEPA.
Secondly, and more importantly, it had a digital read-out of the time left until it would turn green. Unfortunately I captured this image just as it was between numbers. Coming soon to Winnipeg?
First, it is solar powered – a growing sector of the economy in Nigeria. Both the house I stayed in, and the office I worked at had solar-powered back-up lighting and computer outlets. Not just for at night, but also during the day, when the local NEPA (Nigerian Electrical Power Authority(?)) would suddenly fail – a failing so frequent that one could almost say that the house and office were solar-powered, with backup from NEPA.
Secondly, and more importantly, it had a digital read-out of the time left until it would turn green. Unfortunately I captured this image just as it was between numbers. Coming soon to Winnipeg?
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