TRAVELS w/P: Tales of Adventure Here & There

Monday June 3^rd BRAIN PURGE Part I

Monday May 27 – nothing unusual

Tuesday May 28 – same

Wednesday May 30 – Democracy Day stat holiday

Wake to bits and pieces of ceiling on the parlour floor and inches of water pooled beneath the dining room table; remnants of last night’s rains. The outlets are soaked. There’s no power.

Grab the mop to sop things up. Head to the shower to wash off the clean-up-grit: there’s no water. Decide to salvage what’s left of the morning over a cup of coffee: there’s no fuel for the cooker to heat water. Say what? The huge gas tank was replaced only weeks ago and should last at least half a year?

 

Head to Axari, a hotel two share-taxi rides away, to swim and shake off a less than stellar start to the day. Get a text from boss Ousman wondering where I’m at. He’s picked up the first of our incoming delegates and wants me to join them for a late lunch. Happily they’re at Axari’s restaurant. I show up looking slightly better than a drowned rat. Samson is a delightful conversationalist, an Ethiopian who spent many beloved years as Concern Universal Country Director in Malawi and now serves as Ousman’s line manager in the UK. Great chat volleys around the table like a table tennis match (Samson’s personal sport). We talk about a community somewhere between Calabar and Ikom where cannibalism is reputed to, well let’s just say urban legend makes it a place not to visit. Peter (of Pandrillus) and companion Liza tell tales of a wedding they attended in this area where as oyibo guests of honour they were made to sit at the high table and were served a special delicacy. Yup. When I relate this story without knowing the place Ousman names the community in a flash: Ugep. Oddly, turns out I was befriended by two young women from Ugep earlier in the day. They were having a family day poolside. Uh oh…they’ve got my number.

Thursday May 31 – Mr. One-eye contractor and his team begin work on the roof. A stove specialist arrives mid-afternoon. He promptly dismantles the cooker. Seems as soon as the valve on the full tank is opened, all burners gush gas despite being in the off position. While all this too-ing and fro-ing is going on Samson, Ousman, Aishat and I interview candidates for the position of Programme Manager for the Global Sanitation Fund. All four candidates fail the written exam and without exception, none knows how to use the supplied laptop to complete their written assignment.

It’s been a long and disheartening day. Retiring to a dark house I decide to splurge a little and ask for my small gen to be powered up. There’s no fuel.  Only two weeks ago fuel was purchased to fill the generator tank. Since then the gen hasn’t been used once. Where did the fuel go? This is not cool. Someone among the Concern Universal family is thieving.  Trust is breached and I’m not pleased. Nor is Aishat who happens to be working into the night preparing year-end financial reports. The fuel is promptly replaced and Aishat plans for a serious discussion with security staff first thing in the morning. A couple of hours later I hunt for whoever is on security duty to off the gen. I find him passed out on a chair. His pants are half off his hips. He can barely open his eyes, much less, see clearly. When I finally get through to him he mumbles, fumbles and staggers. This is security?

Friday June 1.  We meet with an articulate bright young woman from Geneva. Ms C is the program officer responsible for the UN’s Global Sanitation Fund project in Nigeria. As our discussions progress it becomes evident Concern Universal Nigeria needs work on federal government liaison and relations with the national advisory committee responsible for initiating this programme in the first place.  Although I offer to help, racism, I’m told will come into play. “They’ll agree to whatever you might have to say simply because of the colour of your skin, but they’ll have no commitment or follow through,” Ousman says. 

Finally wrapping up at 7:30, together with Hezzy -who’s been patiently waiting on the porch –we dash to Sarah’s for a dinner party. Chapattis are successfully made as a side-accompaniment to Sarah’s yum stew. We meet Moses, a zealous Christian who fancies Sarah, and Philip, the most liberal minded Nigerian yet. Homosexuality becomes the hot talk. Seems most men here believe most women here are bisexual. Mmm kaaaay.

Saturday June 2 – I look forward to sleeping in. Not gonna happen. Standing outside the compound house Ousman calls me awake slightly before 8.  I scramble to show up in the office only to find there’s no need to be there. Crawl back into bed and fall into a deep sleep. Wake to a call from Sarah shortly before noon. We make plans to meet up at the museum. Minutes later Ousman calls to tell me I’m to join a field trip with our special guests. “Be in the office within the next 15 minutes.”  Sarah and I make alternative plans to catch up in the evening.  Within the allotted time I’m sitting at the boardroom table to find lunch being served to Ousman and Samson and Ms C. Samson, such a sweet and savvy man, offers to share. Decline turns to acquiescence; his persistence wins.

A good half hour later we leave.

First stop is TransCorp Hotel to pick up our newest arrived delegates: Dr P a Nigerian diaspora living in the UK and Concern Universal Trustee, and Mr RH chairman of a major Nigerian company, retired CEO of one of the UK’s largest insurers and perhaps the most important patron of Concern Universal. Tall and haphazardly handsome with a mop of silvered hair, Mr RH is likeable and worldly, insightful and engagingly down to earth. A team of armed security hover like bees to secure his whereabouts. They buzz around wherever he happens to be making his presence more visible than had they not been there.

 

We hop into our assigned vehicles. I have the superb fortune of riding with Samson and Mr RH. We head to a village in the district of Bakassi on the shores of Cross River. We all get a good giggle when our mobile phones welcome us to Cameroon, a short hop, skip and jump away. The village where we’ve arrived is home to pirates. It’s also a political hotbed involving oil, two feuding countries and refugee camps. Google more if you’re interested. We visit a shed in the middle of a field on the edge of a forest framing the shores of the river. It’s a grass cutter farm. Grass cutters are a cute, slightly larger version of guinea pig, with a rat like tail. In Nigeria these cane rats are also known as “the other white meat,” “bush meat,” a “delicacy.”  The farmer feeds them sweet biscuits. RH is incredulous. “A rather expensive food isn’t it?” Seemingly this is a community cooperative enterprise supported by all of the village’s families who each contribute Naira for food. “But won’t grass suffice? Biscuits – really?” Sweat trickles on the brow. Damp shirts cling to backs. The cutter hut is a tropical oven. Our delegation slow cooks listening to the farmer and his stories.

We head back the same way we came. Passing stands of bamboo, just ahead is a clear, fast moving river where villagers swim and bathe and fetch water. Slapped together planks of wood bore us across on our inward journey, but this makeshift bridge gives out as the first of our three 4x4 trucks crosses back. The vehicle wedges on an angle. Locals gather. Naked boys stand on shore to watch. Crowds grow. A frenzied chorus of voices rise, ideas tumble one after another in a language none of us understand. Brute force, forty-five minutes and N15,000 later we’re on our way again. Sceptics among us ask was this a planned mishap – sabatoge? Or a legitimate accident? Whatever, it’s a certain adventure.

Stop two finds us visiting a village equipped with two generators, a borehole and palm oil processing equipment. Interestingly Mr RH is overseeing the early start up stages of a palm oil processing plant in Lagos. We talk about the industry.

 

“Old plantations yielding one tonne, when replanted will yield 20 tonnes. Fifty years of selective breeding in Asia  - natural modification through selection, the use of fertilizer, the right planting techniques and vast labour pools; all these are exciting things but they’re happening so very slowly,” he muses.

Mr RH envisions supplying enormous amounts of clean palm oil to Nigeria’s millions. He envisions the small independent farmers who sell plastic water bottles filled with thick gooey red oil from their doorsteps to sell their liquid to his company. He envisions these same farmers growing naturally modified palm nut producing trees and using fertilizers to net higher yields. He envisions greater prosperity for so many occurring in tandem with greater profitability for his company. What he doesn’t envision is what he sees at our second field visit: a village that has received heavy infrastructure investment with nothing to show for it. Five months in - the water supply that’s conveniently located across from the village chief’s house, sits unused, as do the generator and rusting processing equipment.

Climbing back into our vehicle afterwards, comments fly. “This is exactly the kind of project I don’t like to see: investment in infrastructure rather than people. What is the return on beneficiaries?” Vision and strategy, networking and interpersonal capacity, governance and operations clarity, key performance indicators, recruitment issues; the discussion cuts swathes across the organization I’ve come to know and love.

...8:30pm later

Ousman invites me to join the group for dinner.  Twenty minutes after our pre-arranged pick up time, freshly showered and dressed with makeup on, I send a text suggesting he call me when he’s nearing the compound so that I’m ready at the gate. No reply. A good hour after that, I send a second text:  "Is this late timing a matter of Nigerian time delay or have you gone ahead without me? A courtesy reply would be appreciated.”

He calls to say he’s out at dinner, fell behind time, forgot about me, and thanks for understanding. 

 

Sunday June 8, 2013 BRAIN PURGE Part II

Enough days and too many insights later the left-behind incident is long behind and best forgotten.  Since then highlights include:

• Full team, full day meetings with Ms C who talks about the Global Sanitation Fund ; Mr Samson who shares strategic Concern Universal initiatives at headquarter level;  Mr RH who facilitates a session around defining success - what we do well and even better if; Trustee member Dr P who gets us talking about sanitation and hygiene programs in urban and waterlogged communities and Ousman who presents concepts behind PESTLE an assessment tool for strategic planning (political, economic, social, technical, legal and environmental).
• Cooking a fine meal (finally) for an appreciative palate – Ms C. Menu includes garlic butter & wine braised prawns; ginger couscous; lentil veggie medley in a spicy peanut curry, and a fine South African red.
• Flying to Abuja to meet with key federal level players responsible for the design of the Global Sanitation Fund programme in Nigeria. Side note: Hotel security open trunks and use equipment to check vehicle undercarriages for bombs.
• Feasting on pick n kill catfish at a lively bush bar, sipping red wine and dancing to live reggae.

• Visiting CIDA friend Rehana at her stunning Canadian Commission apartment overlooking the city of Abuja, marvelling at the art and antiquities she and hubby Peter have collected; riding in a diplomatic vehicle to attend national holiday festivities at the Swedish Embassy, working through the throngs of armed security into the inner sanctum to meet the Ambassadorial family receiving line, sipping wonderful reds, nibbling exquisite finger foods, chatting it up with diplomats from this country and that; all in all a jolly fine evening.
• Meetings with WaterAid and Unicef – organizations that deliver similar water, sanitation and hygiene programs.
• Meetings with a PR/journalist who is hopefully going to become my newest best friend.
• Sitting in one of the most uncomfortable and unprofessional exchanges, ever. Finally called the individual out on a few less than kosher directives.  Sipping a way too early afternoon glass of red after the fact to assuage bruised egos.
• Losing myself at Abuja’s Arts and Crafts market where I find an amazing dreadlocked mask and a fe/male pair of “antique” carvings. The generous per diem I’ve been paid for this away time covers the cost of these acquisitions.
• Attending live theatre at the posh Transcorp Hilton Hotel. The event is hosted by the Czech Republic Ambassador to Nigeria.  Tickets come by way of Rehana. My Canadian companion, CUSOer Lindsey and I do the receiving line thing then take our seats in anticipation of Audience. It’s a happy blend of cultures: a Czech Republic play performed by Nigerian actors

Written in 1975 by Vaclav Havel, a bourgeois who was forced to abandon  his work in theatre and labour in a brewery, the story is an absurdist conversation between Havel’s alter ego, Vanek, a playwright persecuted by the Czechoslovakian communist regime and a drunken brewery foreman. As the play progresses the duo drink their way through a good two dozen bottles and cans of genuinely intoxicating beer. Their banter is a surrealist repetition of dialogue befitting the situation. An uneducated drunkard, the foreman eventually reveals that his duty is to spy and report on Vanek. The foreman asks Vanek to write self-denunciatory reports in exchange for a better job.Vanek declines.
 

In real life the playwright struggled against the Communist system for the respect of human rights and democracy. In 1993 Vaclav Havel was elected as the First President of the Czech Republic and served until 2003.
 

Post play Lindsey and I mingle with diplomats, sip fine wine and nibble on sumptuous silver-platter-served nibblies. 

 

• Catching up with Sarah at our own Transcorp hotel in Calabar over “the best burger in town.” I’m not sure if it’s the best, but it certainly is the biggest.

 

 

• Spending a leisurely rainy Sunday sans power, writing blog catch up, drinking cool water and enjoying the simple pleasures of home.