This is everything

Paederus the conqueror!

Paederus also known as Papa (in Igbo) or the African Rove Beetle, made an appearance a few weeks ago.   I noticed this flash of red and black on my desk, crawling amongst the rogue ants that are usually exploring the depths of my paper piles, stacks of books and unfinished sewing projects. This particular bug was long and bright and menacing.

I carried on with my writing, trying to make sure the stripy bug was on a trajectory that did not interfere with my arms or fingers while I worked on another revision of a story.

Soon the bug had disappeared and I promptly forgot about it's existence.

The next day, my eye was itchy. I rubbed it with the back of my finger and the itchiness burned. It felt like I had burned myself with a curling iron or used some new eye make up that triggered an allergic reaction.

However, I have taken it upon myself to avoid the dangerous practices of hair curling and eye makeup wearing. I decided long ago that it was not worth it to take such risks with my health and have been enjoying irritation free skin and hair since. So that ruled that out.

I also had no recollection of any incident that would have caused such a burning sensation on my eye. I hadn't scratched myself or run into anything or done anything else that would have made my eye hurt.

I consulted Ogadi, my personal guru of all strange Nigerian happenings. I showed him my eye. Before he could answer, we spotted one of the stripy bugs crawling around on the bed. I moved to swipe it off but he held me back.

Apparently, the "papa"'s venom is a strong irritant to human skin. If you squish the bug against your skin, it releases the venom that causes a reaction that resembles a burn. This is also known as paederus dermatitis which can be quite severe depending on the species and amount of venom that is released.

I watched helplessly as the "papa" crawled towards the edge of the bed.

"How bad is it?"

"It just stings and peels for a few days, then it will go away."

Maybe so now, but the Wikipedia page says that a Paederus species could have been responsible for some of the 10 plagues of Egypt described in Exodus! 

Over the next few days, we noticed many of our friends and acquaintances afflicted with linear blistering wounds on different parts of their bodies. The murder of a "papa" always leaves a nasty trail.

Then, just like it appeared, it disappeared without a trace. I haven't seen any "papa"s since. My eyes are thankful.

Who needs diamonds?

Or chocolate or hot water or all you can eat vegetarian food or constant electricity or constant internet or Japanese food or bike tours or poetry slams or. . .


When you've got a SWEET GUITAR!!!!

Ube na Oka

Another Nigerian delicacy!

Most fruit and vegetables in Nigeria are seasonally available. Different street foods pop up along the side of the road and flood the market until their season is up. Then they are gone again until the following year. It was mango season when I got here in March and there were crates and crates of mangoes in the market every week. Branches of mango trees everywhere were drooping under the weight of their swelling fruit. Then some time in June, they just disappeared.

Now, it is Ube and Oka season (Ube na Oka is Igbo which may be difficult to pronounce, but is certainly easier than Dacryodes edulis and zea mays).
That means, African pear and corn season. African pear seems to have some relation to avocado. The extent of that relation may be that they are both referred to as 'pears'. Ube only resembles an avocado in that it is the same colour green on the inside and has a large seed. And when Ube starts to go bad, it tastes how an avocado tastes when it goes bad. Otherwise, the taste is different and the shape is different and the way you eat it is different. And of course the name, class, order, family, genus species. . .all different!

Ube on the left, Oka on the right

So what is to be done with Ube na Oka?

Eat it!!!
Roasted corn reminds me, very vaguely,
 of tortilla and Ube reminds me, very vaguely, of guacamole :) yum!

Of course, there's nothing wrong with French Toast and a good book from time to time either :)

Window Shopping in Abuja

 While I am a volunteer in Nigeria, I am also taking a correspondence creative writing course from Humber College in Toronto. I am trying to write a book and applied for a workshop at Humber last year which I was accepted into and very impressed by. My mentor was Esi Edugyan who won the Giller Prize that year for Half Blood Blues. For this seven month course, my mentor is Sally Cooper who is the author of two books, Love Object and Tell Everything. I can't speak for Love Object because I haven't read it yet but I very much enjoyed Tell Everything even though it dealt with some very dark, Paul Bernardo/Karla Hamolka resembling, subjects.

The book I am attempting to write has to do with some of the experiences I had the first time I backpacked through India in 2009/10 which, if you go back through the records, you will realize is uncharacteristically absent. To be truthful though, a large majority of the important events in my life are not documented on my blog and remain somewhere in my body until they are ripe for the world to taste. So now I am weeding the soil around the seed and fertilizing it and doing some Biodynamic pest control rituals on the side for good measure to ensure that fruit is as sweet as I can make it. But as my good friend Kristine from Blue Chicory always said “It's best to make all your mistakes before you buy your own farm.”

For writing, it is all your own farm, but making mistakes and having a mentor to submit them to has been very helpful. It has helped me to see where my story is weak or awkward. Sally has also asked some insightful questions that have helped to pull out the story from the places it is still more comfortable hiding. I have already rewritten drafts and the results are much stronger but still not final. Writing is not an easy process. There is no real road map and no concrete directions. There isn't even a particular destination. After the peak of the mountain, you still wish you could fly higher. But somehow, the more you write, the more you understand yourself, the more you hear your own voice, the more you know what it is you're trying to say.

Good for
Phone cards, detergent, food, drinks!

One book that I've been reading is “Writing Fiction” by Janet Burroway which has been recommended as a text for the course. I think it was in that book where I read a suggestion to take an idiom or cliche that has lost its meaning and write a story detailing a new interpretation of the cliche that gives it meaning again.

Nigeria has provided the perfect example:

Siddharth checking out the goods

Window Shopping. :)

White Whine

I've been trying to write a blog post for the past few days but every time I click on the 'new post' button and am sitting across from a blank page, I too go blank.
It's like all that whiteness is laying siege to my brain, spreading its empty freedom to the multitudes of firing connections. Insisting on an organized response.

Which, from the perspective of a rapidly white washed mind, seems like too much effort.

I try to think about the interesting things I've been doing, that friends might be interested in reading about.
I could talk about the weird dreams that my malaria medicine gave me (even weirder than normal. I've been to France, on a large cruise ship heading towards Canada, witnessed my own death and the end of the world a few times. . .).
I could talk about getting trapped in my stairway on Sunday. I was trying to visit my cat friend who was stuck on my neighbours balcony when a gust of wind blew the door shut behind me, somehow locking it permanently. The lock has never been stuck before. I had filled the pot bubbling away on the stove with more water than necessary, so at least I had some time to save the pot from boiling dry. I pried open the small window that opens from the kitchen to the stairway and banged on the wall and counter with a tin can screaming for Ogadi til he rescued me. He informed the neighbours of my predicament, who's front window I emerged in front of--cobwebs in my hair and dirt all over me from crawling down the abandoned stairway. Glad he was home!!
Now, Ogadi is convinced the cat is magical and responsible for locking the door in retribution for being trapped himself.

I could talk about my new flatmate, another volunteer from the UK who I took around Abuja for five hours yesterday. To the movie theatre/shopping mall for a coffee, to Wuse Market, to City View Restaurant. Before coming home to be sick, recover, finish Americanah, and finally work on my own writing project.

. . .all of which seem totally boring.

A lot of the things that WOULD be interesting (probably) are beginning to seem normal so I don't notice them as much. There's a certain point, I think, when you get used to a place and start to understand it on a level that makes the novelty of certain events or everyday occurrences fade. Or perhaps I'm just too accepting of differences at this point. I've kind of given up in noticing them and thinking they are so funny or peculiar or interesting. . .

Maybe it's just a slump. Or maybe I'm zooming in too much to detach myself for the moment.

Maybe I need some distance or some time or some. . .something.

Or maybe I just need to shut up and write like a Mother#^$*&@

Aljazeera interview with Binyavanga Wainaina

Interview with Binyavanga Wainaina, one of my favourite writers.

Some thoughts on African aid and development

I came across both of these videos last week and they made me happy.  I think the second one provides an alternative to the stereotypes and cliches the first one critiques. 



From the website:
"Imagine if every person in Africa saw the “Africa for Norway” video and this was the only information they ever got about Norway. What would they think about Norway?

The pictures we usually see in fundraisers are of poor African children. Hunger and poverty is ugly, and it calls for action.
The truth is that there are many positive developments in African countries, and we want these to become known. We need to change the simplistic explanations of problems in Africa. We need to educate ourselves on the complex issues and get more focus on how western countries have a negative impact on Africa’s development. If we want to address the problems the world is facing we need to do it based on knowledge and respect."

This is excellent and in line with a lot of the things I've been thinking, since taking an African History course in University and gradually increasing my understanding of world issues since graduation.  Travelling, reading a lot and talking to local people really does do a lot to undermine the story we are told through advertising on TV, I think. 

And here is one idea for a better way to approach aid: