the blog at planet roz

Finally experienced Cape Town taxis, which the B&B owner calls “black taxis”. When he first said it I thought he was referring to the colour of the taxis, so I was a little confused as I don’t recall seeing black taxis roaming around. He then made it clear he was talking about the minibus taxis.

I went from Observatory to Claremont, Claremont to Cape Town and Cape Town back to Observatory. It was okay. It was cheap which is the main point. We did tend to stop a lot because there are no designated bus stops per se so passengers are picked up anywhere along the way.

Back to the whole “coloured” issue, which I find fascinating. (See post for July 25, 2007) Went to a talk yesterday for the launch of a book called “Race”. Turns out “coloured” is more complicated than I thought.

The discussant said that one of her students on campus came up to her and said “My mother is white and my father is black; does that make me coloured?”, to which she replied “No darling, it doesn’t”.

After the talk I asked her a question about this issue and she said mixed race is a biological rather than a racial term. Coloured is much more than that with its social and historical connotations. (Hopefully that’s what she said. We were interrupted by a photographer who wanted to take a picture for a newspaper, so I kind of lost my train of thought and ability to remember what was said!)

Arrived in Johannesburg today, and was driven to Tshwane (Pretoria), which is about a 45 minute drive from O.R. Tambo International Airport. I took a walk down Van der Walt Street this afternoon, and it is very different from the streets I’ve walked down in Cape Town. It sort of reminded me of the run down area in Washington, DC around H Street if I remember correctly. Anyway, I had to be more aware of my surroundings than in Cape Town.

For some reason people I interacted with thought I was South African. Went to a discount chemists and the guy spoke to me in some language; which one I can’t say, but I didn’t really need to answer, and as far as I know he didn’t peg me for a foreigner. Then I went to a grocery store and was happily breezing in and this woman was calling me and saying something in again, a language I didn’t understand. Didn’t even hear her in this case though. I then went up to her and was very nonchalant about not stopping to give her my shopping bag from the first store I’d been to. She was like “you forgot?” and I was like “yes.”

Then I went to a pie shop to buy a steak and kidney pie, chips and a sprite (must not keep having pie and chips, otherwise will get very fat), and the woman says something to me. Again I didn’t understand, but I kind of figured out she was asking me what drink I wanted, so I was like “fanta … no, sprite!”. Then walked past this dodgy looking man standing on a street corner who said something to me. Of course I just ignored him.

Not sure I look South African at all, although as I said, at the SA consulate in Abuja, Nigeria, this woman asked me if I was South African and then said I was lucky I wasn’t ‘cos she was about to blast me about the treatment meted out to Nigerians there. I think she just asked me that though because she noticed I had some kind of an accent.

Recently returned from another trip to Abuja; this one successful. Was asked how old I am on the plane by a man I got talking to, and when I said it’s rude to ask a woman’s age he told me I look like a “Jambite”, which is a first year undergraduate student, or a freshman in America.

Got to hang out with my older brother at the Sheraton Hotel as he was in town for 3 days. The Sheraton is full of Nigerian prostitutes picking up white men, or maybe it’s a case of white men picking up Nigerian prostitutes. It’s not like the place is swarming or anything, but they’re very noticeable.

My brother’s friend told us that a while ago there were a lot of white South African prostitutes hanging around, but they were nowhere to be seen when we were there.

It made me wonder what kind of man, probably with a wife and kids back in England or wherever they come from, picks up young prostitutes in a hotel lobby. I love to people watch anyway, so this was fascinating.

Got back from another trip to Abuja today; my second in two weeks. This time my trip was more successful. I was determined to go to the cinema this time as last week when I was there I was too disappointed by the outcome of my trip to do so.

Watched Premonition with Sandra Bullock and Julian McMahon at the NuMetro Cinema in Ceddi Plaza. Not with them obviously, but you know what I mean. I am so behind in film watching and just my knowledge of what’s out there, and that is a huge deal for someone like me who loves watching films, as anyone who knows me will testify. Anyway Premonition seemed like the best of the bunch. Other films on offer (but not necessarily in the afternoon when I went) were Die Hard 4.0, Shrek the Third, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and The Simpsons.

The film had a very unsatisfactory ending and had I seen film clips and read reviews as I normally do I probably would not have gone to see it. Bullock plays a housewife who is told her husband died in a car crash. The next day she wakes up to find her husband (McMahon) is alive and downstairs in the kitchen. Blah blah blah. This woman seemed to spend her entire life sleeping and being told by her elder daughter that she was going to make them late for school.

All the way through it I was kind of hoping for a happy ending, although I tend not to enjoy films so much when they tie things up neatly in a bow at the end as life is just not like that. At first I thought her husband was having an affair and had somehow pretended to be dead so he could cart her off to a mental institution, and then when that theory proved to be ridiculous I gave up, and just knew that with such a story line there was no way the film was going to end with people coming out feeling satisfied, and of course I was right. For me the ending was abrupt (hate those kind of endings), and the few other people in the cinema voiced their displeasure/incredulity/irritation as well, so I was definitely not alone. What a load of rubbish, but it got me out of the dingy hotel room I was staying in so can’t complain.

Oh yeah today I was watching the U.S. Box Office show on MBC 2 (a Saudi cable station) and saw a preview for “No Reservations” with the delectable Aaron Eckhart and Catherine Zeta-Jones. I’d read nothing about this film and had never heard of it before, but immediately it was obvious to me that it was stolen from ”Mostly Martha, (Bella Martha)”, one of my favourite German films. (I’ve only seen about three, but what the hey, and hey, they were all excellent films!) Carlo, am I right? Is it based on “Mostly Martha” which is just so vastly superior, even from the short preview I saw? Tell me I’m right! I know you love that film too!

SWITCH

So while I was buying my ticket back from Abuja, some man with a pot belly leans over me from behind and starts talking to the guy who’s in the middle of writing out my receipt. When I harrumph a little bit (so cool—in Word I spelled it “harumph” and the spell checker automatically corrected it to “harrumph”! Yeah, I know that’s what it’s there for, but harrumph!!) he apologises, but then proceeds to touch me with the pot belly and so I just get annoyed and tell him to wait, that the guy is serving me. He then throws a fit and says words to this effect (warning: broken English alert): “Wetin? Why are you getting annoyed? I’m asking him a question. Why you dey vex? E no be like say I dey touch you sef!” (His belly was on my back!) “Abi, you too beautiful or what?” Ugh I was so annoyed. He actually had the effrontery to tell me that I was interrupting him while he was speaking to the ticket attendant.

SWITCH

Gosh, it’s all coming out now. Here in Nigeria I try to change my accent in certain situations/places as otherwise I stand out too much and more often than not that can lead to too many nosy and rude questions. No sooner do I say a few words than the game is up. I’ve been asked/told the following: “Are you white?”, “Is your father a white man?”, “Are you a Nigerian?”, “Are you from South Africa?”, “Where are you from?”, and all this with me thinking I’ve changed my accent. South Africa? Although funnily enough in SA quite a few times I was spoken to in some SA language (have no idea which one), to which I would just smile and say I didn’t understand.

Recently finished reading “Yellow-Yellow” by Kaine Agary. The book won an award. I saw her on a current affairs programme where she was talking about the book and so I was happy when I finally found it in Abuja. I enjoyed it although I felt it was too short and boy did it end abruptly too. I hate that. I could have finished it in one sitting, but I forced myself to put it down and carry on with it the following day. At the end of it I was like “What? Is that it?” I felt so short changed somehow.

Some thoughts from my Abuja and Cape Town trip. Abuja is the federal capital of Nigeria. The main city is well-planned and maintained. Basic working amenities like traffic lights, rubbish collection, parks, public transport, etc. that are lacking in other parts of the country are there. In fact compared to many parts of Nigeria, Abuja seems like a different country. I’m told that places like Calabar in Cross River State are like London, although I have to say, I’ll believe that when I see it.

For some reason I thought the whole of Abuja was like the city centre, but I was wrong. A story last night on the news showed uncollected rubbish on the streets of the “satellite” towns surrounding Abuja. Welcome back to (certain parts of) Nigeria. I was talking recently to someone on the phone who lives in Cape Town and telling him we just had a power cut here. He couldn’t really get his head around the idea of a power cut. Even the U.S. experiences power cuts after a storm so I couldn’t understand why he found the idea so foreign! Anyway back to Abuja.

Had a great family reunion of sorts with cousin from U.S. and his family. Met some people I had never met before and others that I haven’t seen in years. We stayed in this nice apartment hotel called Protea (another South African import to Nigeria) and hung out watching a lot of Africa Magic (cable station) and other stuff. I became a tourist in my own land, which was a different experience. We took a tour bus around the city and went to the National Assembly building, drove by the national mosque and cathedral, went to an art and craft village, went to the zoo, but decided not to go in, and ended up in an amusement park where we had lunch and some of us went on one of the rides.

Cape Town was a lovely get-away from here, even if it was for business. I was treated so well, and had a blast. I met lots of people who I hope will become friends. I still can’t quite get around the whole idea of “coloureds”, so I asked lots of questions, which I hope were not rude or anything. I know that in the U.S. a spot of “black” no matter how little makes you “black” in the eyes of many. I thought “coloureds” were people who basically have one parent who’s black and one who’s white, but I was wrong. The “black” or “white” person could have been many generations in the past. I’m still trying to get used to it, so I’m rambling now and will shut up. I guess “coloureds” would be called “mixed race” in the U.S. Anyway I met loads of great people, whatever colour they want to call themselves.

Met a girl who is from Zimbabwe and has Jewish, German and Pakistani (or was it Indian) ancestry. She looks mixed race, but in SA, she’s viewed and labelled (by others) “coloured”. Her name is Nadia and she does a brilliant “coloured” accent, and her Russian accent is spot on too! Anyway she was telling a story of how when she first moved to Cape Town she got into one of the taxis, which are in fact mini buses, that carry lots of people. She told the driver where she was going in her normal accent, which I guess sounded “white” to him. Anyway she got lots of flack from the driver for the way she spoke and was basically asked why she was speaking like that. She couldn’t believe it of course. After a while in Cape Town she learned to speak with the “right” accent in taxes so as not to get teased so brutally.

Tried going to Robben Island, but after a while the ferry had to turn back because of choppy waters. We wouldn’t have been able to see Mandela’s cell anyway as it was being renovated, so hopefully will get to go another time. What else did I do? Went to a “coloured” club, although I wasn’t aware it was one until the person I went with told me. Ate loads and loads of good food and put on lots of weight.

Finally, finally, I can get into the flippin’ control panel of Expression Engine. It’s been driving me nuts! Have had so much to write about my second Cape Town trip and just about life in general, and I haven’t been able to.

Spent three weeks in Cape Town recently attending meetings and seminars. It was chilly, but fun. Nearly got to see Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was jailed for 27 years. We were on our way on the ferry, the weather was gorgeous, and then all of a sudden it started to rain and the water got all choppy, so we had to turn back.

More later. Not really in the mood to write now. Got some pictures though.

Abuja Family Reunion 2007.

Cape Town May/June 2007.

Just got back from wonderful travels; first to Cape Town, South Africa for a job interview, and then to Abuja for a family reunion with my cousin and his family who flew in from the U.S. I got to meet family members that I hadn’t seen in at least 13 years—one of which was my own brother! The good thing is though that he hadn’t changed, apart from being moustache-less. We also got to take a picture together. I think the only one I have of the two of us together was taken when I was about 8 and he was 20!

We went sightseeing in Abuja (loads of pictures to come) and ate lots of food and had lots of laughs watching Africa Magic on cable. Saw Spider-Man 3 for the second time in 3 weeks at Nu Metro Cinema in Abuja.

Cape Town was beautiful, and cold. I didn’t realise it got that cold in Africa. Really, I guess it wasn’t that cold, but I hadn’t brought the necessary warm clothing with me so I definitely felt the chill.

As I said, today is when Nigerians vote for new state governors. Today, I experienced the thug culture that is Nigerian politics, and I hope to God that’s the last for me. I was studying JavaScript this morning when I heard lots of shouting outside, so I went out into the compound. (Our house is one of four in a large compound). I heard shouting and singing, and was told by one of our neighbours that the noise was being made by local thugs, who were angry that they could not vote. Now they didn’t register to vote, but for them, that’s no reason to stop them from voting. Apparently, they basically destroyed everything at the voting booth, and proceeded to run up and down the street, shouting.

They then came to our compound and started banging on the front gate. Meanwhile, one of our neighbours had already called the Mobile Police or “MoPo”, who got here just in time. There were two of them, and they were wearing riot helmets, and it was kind of scary. Anyway, the crowd was banging on the gate and then when they couldn’t get in, they started throwing large stones into our compound. Then the MoPo started firing their guns in the air.

I am so not used to this, so it was a huge shock, and all I could do was pray, and in tongues since English just didn’t seem to cut it at that time! Eventually they went away, which was a relief. I hope there will be peace when the election results are announced.

Mary’s story is of course not typical of all Nigerians as this country has a lot of very wealthy people who lack for nothing, but this story is in line with yesterday’s election/Nigeria post, which is why I included it.

Nigerians will vote on Saturday April 14th, 2007 for new state governors and on April 21st, for a new president. I am not really into politics, but since coming back I’ve spent some time with someone who breathes politics, so I’m learning a lot.

As far as I’m concerned one president is like any other. This country’s politicians seem to thrive on amassing as much money as they possibly can before their term is up. And the “masses” (that’s what Nigerians call the citizenry of this country) are as much to blame it would seem. Apparently, a politician that siphons money into his/her own coffers is tolerated; it’s when they siphon too much that people begin to complain. But what is too much? I mean who gets to decide how much is too much?

Also Nigerians talk about other Nigerians as if they were this mysterious third person. (Here I am doing the same thing it would seem). I’ve had many conversations with people trying to fill me in on Nigerians, who will say “Nigerians are this, and Nigerians are that. Nigerians are very intelligent and industrious, but Nigerians will cheat you if given half a chance. Don’t get me wrong, I love Nigeria, but Nigerians—well you have to be very careful.” I am of course paraphrasing, but hopefully my point has been made. If not, please feel free to ask me what the heck I’m talking about as you make your comments!

Anyway, I hope and pray that the elections this Saturday are peaceful. Free and fair? That doesn’t seem to happen here in Nigeria. At the moment I live in one of the country’s hot spots, so I hope there will not be any bloodshed. I actually had a friend who lives in another part of the country ask me why I’m living here, and likened this region to a war zone, which was a little extreme.

I hope we get a government that will want to make a difference, that will not seek its own, but that of its citizenry—you know, the teeming masses—but I fear we’ll get the government we deserve. A government that pays its citizens to support it at rallies, a government that seeks to leave no legacy, a government that has no real plan for improvement.

I live in what’s supposed to be an “oil city”, and people proudly call it that, yet none of the oil money appears to have been used to develop this place. Do those in power not see the dirty streets with piles of rubbish everywhere, the unpaved roads, the dirty buildings, the hungry masses (that word again), the decrepit taxis, the crumbling hospitals? Why do they not weep, and long to make a change?

I’ll end this post now, because I fear otherwise I’ll never stop.

XML feed appears to suddenly be working, after so many years. We’ll see. Going to test it. I may not have to move over to WordPress after all. Hate their free themes, and am having major formatting problems. All’s that’s really needed on this site is a massive redesign.

Hey, it appears to be working. Now can I elicit some help from anyone to subscribe to my RSS feed by clicking on the XML link underneath the search bar in the left hand column? 

Yesterday morning, a friend got me a gig on a local radio station. The topic was Youth Empowerment, and the guests were myself, an expert in youth empowerment, as well you know!! , and a youth advocate and activist who publishes a youth magazine, as well as another man who devotes his life to youth issues. The presenter, a very personable and awesome young lady asked us questions such as what age constitutes youth (I said 15-26, one speaker said 18-49!! and the other said 18-40!), how can youth be empowered, what kind of skills do youth need today, and what role does the government have in helping youth, and how in turn can youth help the government. We heard from my two co-speakers about the Nigerian experience, and I in turn, spoke from the point of view of the American experience. I actually enjoyed the show. I had been a little nervous beforehand as I’ve never done anything like that before, but I had fun.

Went to a great church today called “Father’s House Bible Church”. Apparently the church is very praise and worship oriented; in fact, I would say the praise and worship went on for about an hour. Now, I tend to be more inhibited than I would like during praise and worship, but today I just let go. I wasn’t jumping in the aisles and partying like it was 1999 like the guy that invited me (it was good to see!) , but I did dance in my own way, and had a lot of fun.

I didn’t know most of the worship songs, but the praise songs (which came after the worship songs) were a sort of medley of Hillsong United songs, which I played at the YA Bible study at Christ Church of Washington. Even a song such as “Now That You’re Near”, which was like a staple of mine was just an awesome song this morning. Really that’s saying something since at one point in the not too distant past, even while I was singing the song, inside I was saying that none of the words were true. Thank God that even though things are still not quite as they should be, I can now sing that song, and mean the words and have a great time, even though some of Marty Sampson’s lyrics border on the cheesy at times. Don’t get me wrong, I think Marty Sampson is cool and has written some awesome songs for Hillsong. Watch the Hillsong Hope extras dvd and hear Marty talking about the inspiration for some of his songs. He’s like the Australian surfer dude type. So funny!

Thanks Stella Bella for the MC subscription!!