palm wine and kola nuts

Happy Nigerian Independence Day! 47 years ago today Nigerians celebrated the exit of the British government. Today in Abeokuta school children will be marching at the governor's estate (one of the few residences in the town that has a decent road passing by it). My Abeokuta mum said that she marched as well in 1960. She wore white and black -- the newly designed Nigerian flag tucked in her hat -- and marched proudly at a stadium in Ibadan. At school they slaughtered a cow for the children. She says they ate a lot! There is a cow slaughtering station a short walk from where I am staying. I remember from childhood seeing women very impressively carrying large sections of cow on their heads, but I had never seen the body quartered all at once. Pretty fascinating -- especially knowing that I will likely be eating part of it soon. I asked my friend whether industrial meat farming exists here, and he said that any efforts to bring in factory farming have failed. People prefer to know the local butcher and inspect the processing themselves. I have been making a point to try and finish everything that's served up out of respect, but also in order to eat enough -- vegetarianism seems ancient history. But so far my stomach has been surprisingly strong; no health problems to report. Nigerians cook with copious amounts of chilli pepper -- usefully antibacterial. At any rate, I will soon be in a situation where I can cook more for myself. I am gradually slimming down in this hot climate, but people keep remarking on how big and fat I am. Especially those who knew me when I was here at 19/20 years old. It is true that traditionally Yoruba women have been full figured -- and that this is a sign of a relaxed and happy lifestyle. But young people watch a lot of MTV and expectations seem to be changing accordingly.

I have had an interesting week. This past weekend I journeyed back to Lagos to attend a 60th birthday party. I didn't know the celebrant, but in Nigeria, the more the merrier. I made a bit of an impression by participating in 'spraying' the celebrant -- dancing Yoruba style while placing money on her chest and forehead. She responded by playfully insisting that she wanted dollars, not naira, from the oyinbo. Other dancers taught me some steps and showed their appreciation by spraying me as well. I further redistributed the 20 and 50 naira notes to the leader of the impressive juju band there for the occassion. Several small gift items were passed out to all the guests -- nylon bags containing candles and matches (very useful in this land of power outages), wash cloths, plastic buckets, notebooks stamped with the celebrant's image. We drank from bottles of coke and ate rice and chicken from pots of food left at every table. Lagos is a crazy and exciting place. As one friend put it, Lagos is synonymous with traffic. We got stuck in traffic at night in Oshodi, a neighbourhood which used to be notorious for criminal gangs but has been 'cleansed.' The markets stay open late into the night. A lively place to be stuck in a go-slow.

Earlier in the week, and again last night, I had the opportunity to meet the Alake of Egbaland, one of four Yoruba kings and a friend of the family where I am staying. He is responsible for meeting with and advising anyone who books an appointment, but we were able to pop in without one. I learned how to properly greet both him and his wife by prostrating and praying in Yoruba. They were very informal meetings -- he was dressed in his golf clothes and there was much laughter and chatting. I had the chance to sample sweet palm wine and bitter kola nut. Mmmmm. The Alake is a former military official and has a deep knowledge of Nigerian politics. He has offered to grant me an interview at some point.

Oh, I have to leave early as my lift has just arrived. More soon! Love!