How could Zuma become leader of the ANC?

This is the question I have been asking myself today. Although he was acquitted of the rape charge against him, I have a very hard time believing that he did not rape the woman "nicknamed 'Khwezi' by her supporters". I also think that someone who had unprotected sex with a person who he knew to be HIV positive and believed that taking a shower "would minimise the risk of contracting the disease [HIV]" should not hold a place of leadership in any society. How on earth could the former "head of South Africa's National Aids Council and the Moral Regeneration Movement" think that showering after sex could reduce the risk of contracting HIV?! I am appalled. I am also shocked that he secured the "endorsement of the ANC's Women League". I just do not understand it.

This afternoon, I called my brother (who spent 5 months living and working in Pretoria, South Africa) to ask him "what did people think of Jacob Zuma?" I can't remember his exact words, but I do recall him using the terms 'nutcase' and 'moron' with reference to Zuma.

So how did he end up leader of the ANC? Why do people support him? Is it because "his supporters believe [he] ... will redistribute South Africa's wealth in favour of the poor"? Even if he could achieve this, would that make up for what he has said and what he may have done? Furthermore, Zuma is under suspicion for corruption charges, yet another factor which makes me think he is unfit to lead the ANC.

Ultimately, it is for South Africans to decide what they think of Jacob Zuma and to act accordingly. It is my hope that people do not overlook his past out of a belief in what they think he might be able to achieve if and when he becomes president of South Africa.

In November

It was two years ago around this time that I was on my way to Nigeria. I'd left Ottawa by this time, rolled out of the bus station on November 5th (a good day to remember, remember). I recall that my mother was there and Irene and Oliver (bundled up and smaller). I think my father may have been there as well. Was my brother? I'm not sure. Anyhow ...

I would have been preparing to leave London or perhaps already on my way. The specific details elude me for the moment.

But I do remember arriving before dawn. The early morning darkness, crisp and cool, seemingly quiet, but humming with potential ... the day's energy perched like words on a poet's fingertips. Too abstract? Something more tangible then ...

I stepped from the plane into the pre-dawn morning, inhaled the cool air. An overwhelming feeling of relief washed over me as I took in my surroundings. "I'm here." It was a beautiful feeling. Everything had been a building up to this moment. All the nervousness, tension, anticipation, melted away and I was free. The morning's stillness on the tarmac was punctuated by the sound of crickets chirping. It was undoubtably one of the most perfect moments of my life.

I entered the city with Planned Parenthood's driver, Danjuma. Would it be strange to say I felt somewhat like a newborn? Obviously, not in the literal sense of the word. It's the only way I can think to describe the sense of awe that I felt. Perhaps that's what it is like for most people the first time they go somewhere far away and so very different from the surroundings they were accustomed to. I'm glad that I went where I did. I don't want to imagine entering Nigeria without that feeling. It is a part of what made it so dear to me, no matter d wahala.

And so now, two years later, I feel fuller for the experience, but also so empty at times. I feel as if I lost a huge chunk of my self when I left there. It shouldn't be like that, but it is. I wish I could carry around that sense of fullness and peace that I felt with me here, so that I could take it in again and fill this hole. But the hole was always there. It was here before I left and surfaced while I was there. I've carried it around with me for as long as I can remember. It's my inner demon, something I must overcome myself. Going here or there won't change that. It requires something more ... I don't know the words ... serious soul searching?

The thing is, I'm not sure I'm capable of doing what it takes to make things 'right'. To do that, I'd need to figure out what to do first. This realization keeps eluding me.

Perhaps this is just what life is, a series of moments, a questioning, a learning, and, well, a living.

I was telling a friend tonight that I am beset by the feeling, the fear, that there is something terribly wrong with me. I don't know why. I try to shake it off, worrying that I am going to curse myself with all these negative thoughts. For thoughts do have powers.

And now I just feel like I'm rambling. It happens from time to time. I've had a lot to think about lately, a lot 'on my mind'. So it goes.

fear itself

I can feel it creeping up on me, this fear. It has many faces. Some are my own, others are images from my past and present. They scatter around me like restless birds. They descend on me like bats flooding the sky at sun set.

I fear that once the unknown becomes known, it may strike me down.

I fear I am not living up to my full potential, that I am wasting time.

I fear that I will not find love, because I don't know how.

I fear that I will not find fulfillment within myself.

I fear that that it may already be too late.

I need to sleep.

only I have the power to tread on my soul

Today was one of those miraculous, fantastic days where I wondered, at times, if the universe truly is conspiring to shower me with blessings. The messages are everywhere, one just needs to know how to look for them, to see them and recognize them. Because I know damned well life on Earth is severely messed up, but there are so many rays of hope. For everything that knocks me down, something comes along to lift me up out of hopelessness and despair, to ignite the spark within me, my passion and desire for positive change in the face of destruction, and my spirit of resistance. I see, acknowledge, and revile forces of oppression, attempt to resist and fight injustices, and try to remind myself the responsibility I have as a middle-class Westerner to use my voice and my power to support the efforts of those who are on the front lines of equality and justice movements. We who are living in luxury, because it gets to a point where it is goes beyond mere comfort, have an obligation to those who have not shared our wealth and from whose suffering we have benefited, even if it has been unwittingly. It is about volunteering our time and effort, donating funds when and where possible, educating ourselves, helping those individuals we can while working with others to create change on a larger scale, educating ourselves about inequalities and injustice, and so on and so forth.

My my my, I have so much on my mind. My original intent was to say something about the fantastic evening that I had, but it is getting late and I have to wake up in roughly 6 hours. On that note, I will make a quick summary ... The Interpares event was great, I was inspired by the women who spoke and shared the stories of women with whom they work. I enjoyed talking about Nigeria and Ghana with Lisa and her friend. It was good to see Chris at the talk. I spontaneously hugged Kelli, Jeanine and Joanna at work today and received smiles in return. Georgina, my marvelous, lovely and generous friend, took me to see K-OS, for which I am grateful (the show blew me away). And last, but not least, Abdul, the Sudanese man, who made my heart feel like a begging bowl, full to the brim with both joy and sorrow.

In short, life can be and is often very beautiful, even though there is so much needless suffering in this world. We can change the world, make it better. Not all, but most of it is preventable. I believe, do you?

in a yellow wood ...

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.	20

something good

I was on my way to bed when I remembered a random goodness from earlier today. At lunch with my friend Liz (who, incidentally, is one of my favourite persons), I was filling her in on a news item about which I was writing an article for our website. The news item in question was that the U.S. Senate passed an amendment, to the 2008 fiscal year foreign aid bill, on September 6 which overturns the Global Gag Rule.

Officially known as the Mexico City Policy, this measure prohibits international nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) receiving family planning assistance from the U.S. government from supporting safe abortion in any way, even if they were to use their own separate funding to do so. This not only restricts free speech on abortion-related issues but also forces overseas NGOs to make an unfair choice between accepting U.S. funding in order to provide other essential health services and forgoing much needed funding for sexual and reproductive health initiatives, including providing safe abortions, counseling and referrals for safe abortions and political advocacy (i.e., lobbying) for safe abortion.

To clarify, 'safe abortion' refers to abortions performed by qualified medical professionals in a safe, clean health care facility. By contrast, women who do not have access to legal safe abortion services may seek out unsafe abortions, which often result in serious medical complications and/or death. For instance, in Nigeria, where I lived and worked for nearly a year and a half, the majority of the estimated 610,000 abortions performed annually in this country are unsafe and more than 140,000 result in hospitalization due to complications.

"Unsafe abortions contribute significantly to the maternal mortality ratio in Nigeria which, at an estimated 800 deaths per 100,000 live births, is one of the highest in the world (WHO, UNICEF and UNFPA, 2003)." Source: Ipas in Nigeria

Getting back to my original train of thought ... As I was informing Liz about this development I noticed that the people at the next table had stopped talking briefly. I was certain that they had overheard our conversation and I wondered briefly what their reactions were to what I was saying. My curiosity was satisfied when I said "because what it really comes down to is whether you want women to have safe abortions or unsafe abortions" and the woman at the next table responded "safe abortions!" It made me feel so happy to be provided with this unexpected affirmation of something I care about deeply. She added "I think it's really great you are talking about this." When I told her that I work for a sexual and reproductive health and rights NGO she said sincerely "good for you! That's great!"

So that was a something good that happened today. As an aside, the good news about the U.S. Senate's decision to rescind the Global Gag Rule is unfortunately diminished by the certainty that Bush will veto the bill in an effort to preserve the Mexico City Policy, of which he is a staunch defender. Then again, this latest development should help to promote public awareness regarding the severe negative impacts that the policy has had on international NGOs efforts to promote comprehensive sexual and reproductive health services and rights, in particular in the developing world where rates of unwanted pregnancies, unsafe abortions, and STIs including HIV/AIDS are high.

sometimes it strikes me -

Browsing pages online, I happened on an advertisement for fairly traded 'Tuareg sterling hoop earrings'. I clicked and a new page opened, revealing a familiar image. My fingers strayed slowly upward and gently touched the piece of jewelry dangling from my ear. The earrings I am wearing are virtually identical to the ones available online, the key difference being that I purchased my earrings directly from a trader from Niger during my time in Nigeria. And I find myself thinking how very strange it is that one can order something online from a place one has never been and may never go.

words from a wise woman

"All sanity depends on this: that it should be a delight to feel heat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright, knowing the bones are moving easily under the flesh." - Doris Lessing -

"It is not simply what one remembers, but why. There are sites of amputation where the past is severed from the body of the present. Remembering only encourages the growth of phantom limbs. And it is not simply what one remembers, or why, but what to do with what one remembers, which of the scattered pieces to carry forward, what to protect and preserve, what to leave behind."

-Camilla Gibb, 'Sweetness in the Belly' p. 164 -

You no go die - Fela Kuti

Today marks the 10th anniversary of the death of Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Fela is considered by many (myself included) to be the Father of Afrobeat.

"Afrobeat originated from the southern part of Nigeria in the 60s where Kuti experimented with many different forms of contemporary music of the time. Prevalent in his music are native African harmonies and rhythms, taking different elements and combining, modernizing and improvising upon them. Politics are essential to the genre of Afrobeat, since founder Kuti was deeply concerned in social criticism to pave way for social change. His message can be described as confrontational and controversial, which can be related to the political climate of most of the African countries in the 60s, many of which were dealing with political injustice and military corruption while recovering from the transition from colonial governments to self-determination." [Source: Afrobeat - Wikipedia]

Fela was not only a talented and brilliant musician but also an outspoken critic of the Nigerian government and an activist. Many of the issues Fela highlighted in his music remain relevant today. Corruption, fraud, poverty, oppression, nepotism, exploitation (by both domestic and international players) and other negative forces continue to plague Nigeria and its citizenry. For example, the federal and state elections in April 2007 were anything but free and fair, involved widespread rigging and other 'electoral malpractices', and forced many to conclude that the elections were a farce. [Source: An Election Programmed to Fail - a report by the Transition Monitoring Group, Nigeria.] I am certain that Fela would have had many things to say and sing about this.

Although Fela has left us in body, his spirit lives on through his music and in the hearts and minds of his many fans. Additionally, Fela's sons, Seun and Femi, have carried on their father's musical legacy, adding their own unique voices and talents to the mix.

For an enlightening account of the man and the legend, Fela Kuti, follow the links included below:

* 'He was in a godlike state' - The Guardian
* Fela Kuti's Nigeria: 10 years on - BBC News online
* Fela Kuti Lyrics

When life gets you down ....

A helpful suggestion from Rob Brezny's Free Will Astrology web site:

Speak the following lines out loud:
I love everything about me
I love my uncanny beauty and my bewildering pain
I love my hungry soul and my wounded longing
I love my flaws, my fears, and my scary frontiers

I will never forsake, betray, or deceive myself
I will always adore, forgive, and believe in myself
I will never refuse, abandon, or scorn myself
I will always amuse, delight, and redeem myself
-------

As July nears to a close, I've been feeling the weight of my surroundings pushing down on me. It's been such a fabulous month in so many ways, I hate to see it end. And as time goes by Summer is slowly slipping away. Autumn has always been one of my favourite seasons (perhaps my most favourite of all), but having spent nearly a year and a half in a much warmer climate has changed my attitude toward cooler temperatures. It will be nice to experience the lush beauty of Fall colours once again, but I don't welcome the chill that accompanies the change of seasons. And then the harsh brutality of a Canadian Winter will descend on us ... It makes me crave the warmth of Nigeria all the more. I've been wondering lately how I could have allowed things to unfold in such a way that I was forced to leave. I thought I'd overcome my regret, my grief, but perhaps I underestimated my own capacity for accepting change. So it goes. My life has always been and will continue to be a journey. Now if only I could find my next destination and discover the means of getting there ...

Thank you, Universe -

It began with 'ah-ah! how you dey?' and ended with 'chop knuckles'. I'd spent the day brooding and missing my overseas home, feeling uncertain as to whether or not I wanted to be here and shrinking from my surroundings. I went out and had moments of significant enjoyment, but the ache persisted. I was bursting with memories and telling them to anyone who would listen. I felt overwhelmed at times, by my environment, the atmosphere, and my reminiscences. Eventually, I set out for the bus stop. Walking down Slater, I saw a group of people gathered on the sidewalk, spilling slightly into the street. I walked past them and saw a man, walking to the curb from the street, his arms open, speaking loudly to his friends. I exclaimed "ah-ah!"

It was Iyke. I asked him "how you dey?" as we approached each other. He drew his arm around me and pulled me closer, greeting me "Naija girl." His friend asked if I'd just asked "how you dey?" He was shocked and intrigued. Iyke explained I'd been living in Nigeria for 'almost 2 years' (more like a year and a half, but who's counting?). Iyke performed a demonstration for his friend, asking me "wetin dey now?" I answered "nuttin'". His friend was quite astounded by dis small oyinbo girl wey hear broken. Talking to Iyke and his friends was just the fix I needed to take the edge off my missing and loneliness, my ache for Naija. When we parted, the guy said I should hang out with them some time and they'd all speak broken. I'd definitely be up for some of that. Hanging with Femi Kuti's band members gave me a good taste which seems to have made me crave more.

So that's that. I must sleep now. I dey tired, sha.

In Solidarity With Nigerians, The Nigerian Proclamation

Although I am not Nigerian, I spent almost a year and a half living in the Federal Capital Territory and still feel a strong tie to the country and its people. Today Nigeria inaugurated a new president, Umaru Yar'Adua leader of the People's Democratic Party. Yar'Adua was elected through unfair elections that involved an overwhelming amount of rigging. In response to Solomonsydelle's, a Nigerian blogger, call for a statement on today's inauguration and the elections that lead to Yar'Adua's presidency, I have decided to post Solomonsydelle's Nigerian Proclamation. If you feel at all moved by this statement, please post it on your journal or blog and/or email it to your friends. Solidarity is an essential aspect of making the world we live in a better place not only for ourselves, but for others.

Peace.

THE NIGERIAN PROCLAMATION

IN RECENT HISTORY, NIGERIANS HAVE BEEN OVERWHELMINGLY BETRAYED BY THOSE CHARGED WITH ADDRESSING THEIR NEEDS. INSTEAD OF SERVING THE PEOPLE, PUBLIC SERVANTS HAVE SERVED THEMSELVES TO THE DETRIMENT OF THE MASSES. THE RESULT IS A NATION LACKING ADEQUATE INFRASTRUCTURE, ORGANIZATION AND SECURITY.

THE INEFFECTIVENESS OF NIGERIAN LEADERS INDICATES A LACK OF ACCOUNTABILITY TO THE CONSTITUENTS. NIGERIANS ARE NO LONGER RELEVANT TO THE LEADERS, THUS, LEADERS DO NOT FEEL RESPONSIBLE TO THEM.

THE RECENT FAILURE TO CONDUCT A FREE AND FAIR ELECTORAL PROCESS WAS YET ANOTHER ILLUSTRATION THAT THE NEEDS OF THE MANY ARE SECONDARY TO THE WANTS OF THE IMPORTANT FEW.

FROM THIS DAY, ALL NIGERIANS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FUTURE OF THIS GREAT & POWERFUL COUNTRY. CONSEQUENTLY, ALL NIGERIANS MUST COMMIT THEMSELVES TO THE FOLLOWING:


1. WE MUST DEMAND THAT ELECTED OFFICIALS BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS AND IN-ACTIONS.
2. WE MUST EXPECT DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLES TO BE HONORED, RESPECTED AND MAINTAINED.
3. WE MUST BELIEVE THAT ALL NIGERIANS ARE EQUAL UNDER THE LAW AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH.
4. WE MUST APPLY OURSELVES TO IMPROVING THE LOT OF EVERY INDIVIDUAL NIGERIAN REGARDLESS OF GENDER, RELIGION, TRIBE OR SOCIAL STATUS.
5. WE MUST STRIVE TO MAINTAIN A UNITED REPUBLIC DESPITE OUR DIFFERENCES.


ONLY UPON ACHIEVING THESE PRINCIPLES CAN WE AS A PEOPLE FULLY LIVE UP TO OUR POTENTIAL AS A LAND OF GREATNESS. FOR OURS IS A COUNTRY RENOWNED FOR ITS ILLUSTRIOUS PEOPLE, AMPLE RESOURCES AND SHEER PHYSICAL BEAUTY.

Struggling for words -

Wind chimes and stillness
- if you listen closely, you can hear the night breathe -
a cool breeze, carrying the murmurs of barely distant traffic, meets hunched shoulders.

My mind rewinds to the bright daytime busyness of Abuja city streets:
a pulsating sea of danfos jostling for space, commuters spilling out and climbing in, street hawkers gliding around them, their wares balanced above the heads or else held and waved about.

Next the market place,
surrounded by the urgent sounds of developing country commerce,
the shouts and calls, the hiss ('sss') followed by
"hey, customer! come! see! see!"
I weave in and out, dodging barrow boys, buyers and sellers,
trying not to break stride and all the while replying "no, is ok".
Occasionally stopping, trying to find a balance between indifference and recognition
(it isn't always easy) - And finally, arriving at my destination, greeted with a smile,
a regular customer. Hausa pleasantries and crumpled Naira notes exchanged for goods:
Spring onions, green beans, peppers, beet root, fresh basil and sweet sweet mangos.
My taste buds hum with expectation as I fill my bags. Arms and shoulders strain,
legs stride with intent and purpose, the bright hot sun beats down.

And then, in a blink, the vision passes and I am left gazing into a screen filled with words -
Memories of a place, in which I am no longer physically present, stare back at me.
Yet still I linger, part grieving widow/part runaway bride -
At times, also and perhaps, an emotional exile existing between states of mind and being -

Here and there, I am and am not, and so I find myself - between places.

Film review - C.S.A.

Last night I watched a very surreal, amusing, and interesting film called C.S.A. - Confederate States of America.

About the film:

"The Confederate States of America, through the eyes of a faux documentary, takes a look at an America where the South won the Civil War. Supposedly produced by a British broadcasting company, the feature film is presented as a production being shown, controversially, for the first time on television in the States." [Source: See C.S.A. link above for more.]

It was humorous, but in a shocking, unsettling sort of way. Perhaps the most shocking element was discovering how much of the content of the film was based on actualities. For example, the film presented the concept of 'drapetomania', "a psychiatric diagnosis proposed in 1851 by physician Samuel A. Cartwright, of the Louisiana Medical Association, to explain the tendency of black slaves to flee captivity." [Source: Wikipedia]

At first, I thought this was something the film makers had made up; it was just too bizarre to be true. It turns out, however, that this was an actual theory propounded by Cartwright. While it seemed funny in a bizarre sort of way within the context of the faux documentary, on discovering that this was a theory that was actually put forth by someone, in all seriousness, it takes on a sinister character. While in a modern day society, where laws designed to protect people from discrimination exist, such ideas and notions strike many of us as being ridiculous and preposterous, we ought not to dismiss the impact that slavery and the legacy of racism that it has left behind.

There was quite a bit of the film that was intended to be a comical 'what if' re-telling of history, such as Lincoln's escape (disguised in 'blackface') to a pro-abolitionist Canada and the construction of the 'Cotton Curtain' along America's border with Canada. But the realisation that certain segments, such as an advertisement for Darkie Toothpaste, were based on historical realities reminded me of our obligation not to forget the past. We have a responsibility to acknowledge the ways in which racism and oppression still have an impact on our societies and amend this.

In short, I highly recommend this film and hope that you, like me, get something more out of it than a few laughs. It is a fine example of how a film can be both entertaining and thought provokingly educational.

Thoughts today

Why did I leave? Why didn't I try harder to stay? What am I doing here?

Displaced

Once again, I feel in between places. Neither here nor there, some days it seems. Think I've written this before, but I can't remember where or when. Going in circles, perhaps? [God,] I hope not. No, not quite. Because I have changed and I am a different person from the one who walked these streets. I look at the world around me with different eyes. My perspective hasn't quite shifted yet. The only word that comes to mind is 'displaced'.

At times I feel displaced, phased out, and ghost-like. I am seen and heard, yes, but still don't really feel like I am here. I feel as if I am shifting through different states, from a fairly pleasant dream-like state to moments of reality, and, at times, experiencing a sort of nightmarish existence. Well, perhaps not quite so bad as that, but it does bite us (and not in a fun, playful sort of way).

Earlier, I was writing to a friend that Nigeria is a land of contradictions, and that this has so much more meaning than 'Nigeria, the Heartbeat of a Continent' (the slogan from advertisements on CNN Intl.). Sure, it sounds 'nice', but what does it mean? Which is not to say that Canada doesn't have its contradictions. Comparing my country to other nations, the question comes to mind: how does a nation become so prosperous while others teeter on the brink? I think it is interesting and necessary to recognize how nations came to be the ways that they are. We ought to investigate and acknowledge how some have profited at the expense of others. We should learn more about how some colonies flourished post-independence and others floundered and the roles that racism, exploitation, and oppression have played in this process.

Do you want to understand how very twisted it is to be granted privileges primarily because of the colour of your skin? I never really understood what this meant and involved until I went to Nigeria. It is definitely a very disturbing, bizarre, and perplexing experience, but so invaluable. In so many cultures, and I've heard of (and seen, to an extent) people trying to lighten their skin or keep it lighter, darker skin is generally associated with people engaged in agricultural and other outdoor activities that are viewed by some (many?) as 'lower-class' (i.e. labourers struggling to make ends' meet). A friend of mine, who spent 2 years in Nepal, was telling me about 'skin lightening' creams and such. And then there are the 'whites', pouring on the bronze and laying in the sun to toast and darken their skin. A Nigerian friend of mine made a comment about that recently, how bizarre it was to come here and see people sunning themselves in the Summer. Whereas I appreciate the natural glow of sun kissed skin, I flinch inwardly when I observe bronzed creatures, the product of tanning technology, roaming the city streets.

So, being here is strange and awkward, but also beautiful. It is good to see old friends and know that while some things change, others remain. I've been fortunate enough to be welcomed back into people's lives with [surprised] smiles and open arms. It's good to know that we can still pick up at the same intimate level that we parted at. And there's so much to say! Although I some times find myself at a loss for words, being asked 'what was it like'? actually makes me reflect back, helping me to frame and come to terms with my experiences. Other times, however, I feel as if I am talking about another person, because it all seems so far away now. The distance is principally physical, but I also sense it mentally and emotionally. The cold cuts right through me, making me feel as thin as a sheet of paper. This in turn makes me yearn for the warmth of the sun on my skin, the intense heat of a place I'd come to consider home.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for the shock of going away and returning to Canada. I'd had friends go abroad and talked to them about how it feels to come back, but I never would have imagined I'd become so attached to and immersed in another landscape. I can't say culture (singular), because Nigeria is so diverse; however, there is, to a certain extent, a shared sense of existence. As different as Nigerians are from one another, both individually and collectively (i.e. differences between groups), they still share experiences, opinions, thoughts and feelings. Hausas may criticize Igbos, who may in turn make claims about their neighbours to the North and East; Christians may make comments about Muslims and vice versa; but they can all agree that their leaders are cheating them and that things are not right in their country.

For instance, most Nigerians experience problems with 2 fairly basic things (that North Americans take for granted): inconsistent and unreliable power (electricity) and lack of running water. Whereas it is possible to survive without power and running water, the lack of these things is often connected with poverty, to varying degrees. I had friends who were doing fairly well for themselves, but their place was small and, if the power went out, that was it until 'light' was restored by the Power Holding Company (PHC, formerly NEPA - National Electric Power Authority). The lights would go out and we'd exclaim and/or lament 'NEPA!', accompanied by sounds and mutters of discontent and disgust. I remember learning, at one point near the beginning of my time there, that NEPA also stood for 'Never Expect Power Always'. Rechargeable lights would be turned on, candles lit, and cooking would have to be done on a kerosene stove. Additionally, water, when available, was conserved in large buckets in the washroom and kitchen because there was no guarantee that it would be rushing tomorrow. Daily shared struggles to get by in this mixed up place. And the amazing part of it is how people cope, even when they have almost nothing. I marvelled at how people managed to make due, in spite of their circumstances. Not that this made it somehow acceptable, but that so many people go on with their lives, despite all the obstacles and hardships that they have to face, made me shake my head in wonder. 'Suffering and smiling', so the saying goes. I don't know how they do it.

So much more to say, as usual, but I feel myself fading. It's been becoming more and more difficult to type. I'm so tired ... I miss my beloved Nigeria. So it goes.

Goodnight, sweet prince.