No Validations from Fulanis Required

When I first started this blog, I posted one of my blog posts on Nairaland, a popular website where Nigerians everywhere come together to discuss both serious and fun subjects relating to their country.

It was on that site that I enjoyed the acerbic Nigerian humour and saw that no matter where they were in the world, family, marriage, money, religion, patriotism, education and tribe remained important for Nigerians. Nairaland was my online entry into Nigeria before I physically arrived, and I landed at Abuja’s Nnamdi Azikiwe airport equipped with knowledge about my countrymen.

I learnt a lot from the Nigerians on that site, but one interaction with a Fulani man in particular influenced my view about Fulanis and myself.

I’d posted a link to my blog and in response, the Fulani man proceeded to dismantle all I held sacred about my Fulaniness, calling me a fake, a fraud and a fool and regarding my religion as the greatest and most distasteful barrier towards my acceptance into Fulani-land. He stated that a Yoruba Muslim was more of a kin to him than me, a Fulani Christian, and other unpleasant things. What he said and what I felt gave birth to the post ‘You are a Fake Fulani.’

I started this blog to provide a Fulani voice in the plethora of Southern Nigerian voices online, and part of me also wanted to call attention to Fulanis out there and say: “Hey! Here I am! See, I’m just like you! Kind of anyway. So, what’s up? Let’s hang out.” I wasn’t in need of affirmation but I wanted to be welcomed, as if from a long journey away, and for them to say “Hey, sister! Welcome. Sit down, have some Fura da Nono. You look so much like our cousin Halima...” and other forms of easy acceptance. For them to say “We know you’re not quite ‘it’ but it’s OK. Fulanis of all kinds are welcome here.”

But that was before the Expert Fulani’s comments on Nairaland. It hurt. And it also made me stop requiring acceptance. I became Fulani all by myself: a rare, unique offshoot not seeking reintegration but just flourishing where I am.

Other Fulanis were happy that I was out there blogging, and I’ve since received a ton of kind words, with many Fulanis from around Africa happy to converse with kin online, a place where Fulanis rarely entered (or if they did, they were male or communicated in French or Arabic).

I’ve become pen-pals with some and even met a couple off-line. They’ve added immensely to my knowledge of myself and Fulanis (thank you all so much). Some have tried to convert me too, and my reticence in broaching the subject of religion with Fulani Muslims remains. I always feel like they feel I’ve done something terrible in becoming a Christian, and the issue is often so raw and immense and bigger than me that I avoid it altogether. Mostly Fulanis I meet online understand that I don’t need their approval, I’m just happy for their presence and acknowledgment and knowledge.

The funny thing is that my Fulani identity was rarely brought to the fore prior to my blogging. In England, being Black, being female, being a Christian, being British, being a journalist, being from South London and being Nigerian were all far more active parts of my being than being Fulani. That aspect of my identity was relegated to the background and only emerged as an act of will on my part, when I realised that I came from a little-known (in the West at least) yet highly admired people that were known as much for their beauty as their remoteness.

The exoticism of it all, and the pride in being able to claim as mine this almost mythical tribe of nomads – who settled in various African countries and had a distinct look that harkened to a history of migration from outside sub-Saharan Africa – was fascinatingly wonderful. Now I understood why I didn’t look like or behave like the usual Nigerians and why I took to Britishness better than others: there are aspects of Fulani culture, like the reserve and the modesty, that compliment British middle-class culture.

My family spoke little of our heritage. My father was no longer alive and his side of the family was largely unknown to me, and my mother was immersed in her Britishness and wasn’t given to talk of ‘the old country’ except to criticise it. My siblings didn’t care and we didn’t live among other Fulanis, so I got information about Fulaniness from an aunt and her husband, and at the time I was also dating a Nigerian with a Fulani mother so I got to know about various aspects of my culture. But there were also traces of my culture that was inherently known to me, I don’t exactly know how, and the more I read and heard the more I knew that I knew it. Like hearing the whispers of past generations or imbibing the instincts and culture that swirled around you invisibly, or receiving knowledge passed down through your blood and DNA.

I always knew I was Fulani, but I didn’t care until months before I started this blog.  

So to have someone shatter this new mirror I was now looking at myself through was not nice, but because being knowingly Fulani was a recent addition to my already robust identity, it wasn’t so bad. I’m pretty solid in my internal sense of self to not need external validation.

So I got over it, and over the years of blogging my Fulani identity evolved: at first it was a thirst for knowledge, then I married a man also of Fulani heritage who opened my eyes even more to Fulaniness so that it became a familiar enough reality to put to one side, like a new present at Christmas you receive and explore with a hot desire that cools by Boxing Day.

Then a recent comment on the ‘You’re a Fake Fulani’ post by Raji Bello brought back memories of the earlier rejection, only this time my reaction was anger, not hurt. He  said that I was of Fulani origin but I was not Fulani, and my claims to being Fulani were weak. I was like, wait, do you presume to think that I need your permission to be who I am? Later I realised that he didn’t mean any harm, and the truth was that ‘authentic’ Fulanis will always raise their eyebrows and say ‘Hmmmm’ when they hear my story.

Then a follow-up comment on the same post by Aliyu Wali, which spoke about the difference between how I saw myself and how Fulanis see me, brought it all home: I will never be Fulani in the full sense of the word.

Now on the one hand it’s sad, but on the other hand, it doesn’t matter at all. Mostly because such intense discussions of my Fulani identity only occur online; I haven’t surrounded myself with full-blooded Fulanis in the real world (besides, rejection in person would be harder to take), and everybody else in Nigeria sees my Britishness more than anything else. But even if I got their acceptance, what then? It wouldn’t make me taller or wealthier.

I’m loved by God and wonderful people, that’s what matters. I’m just happy to have people reading and learning and enjoying my blog and engaging with me, and I’m even happier to discuss these things with other Fulanis, because I’d never heard their opinions on anything before.

So today, one part of my Fulaniness is an unquenchable glow within, and the other part is fragments I’ve gathered and stuck together. It’s incomplete and crooked and fragile and not as whole as other people’s, but I cherish it and I wear it on my lapel along with the other badges of my identity. The Fulani badge is one of the smallest but often shines the brightest, and sometimes I even forget it’s there, hidden amongst the more robust identities. But when I remember, I touch it and smile.

Yearning for Christmas Spirit in Abuja

This year, come December 25th, Christmas will happen, but not as I know it. In fact Christmas in Abuja is pretty much exactly like any other day, except for the knowledge within that it is Christmas, and perhaps the larger than usual presence of family and friends around, and extra helpings of Jollof rice and fried goat meat.

Christmas Nostalgia

I was supposed to return to England this December, but sadly, a perfect storm of disappointments means I'll be spending my second Christmas in Nigeria. My first was in 2011 when the novelty of heat and sunshine on Christmas Day made it exciting, and a lovely picnic at Millennium Park and a visit to Jos on Boxing Day made for a lovely time.

I was back to London for Christmas 2012, where I gained a new-found love and appreciation for the English version of the occasion, and this year I yearn for that again. This is also because Abuja as a city is absent of any discernible Christmas spirit. There are feeble attempts here and there at marking the occasion, with lights and Christmas trees decorating random shops and homes, and even a snowman display at Silverbird in Abuja, but it all rings false, because there's lack of a national conviction about how to celebrate the event in a Nigerian way.

Snow scene at Silverbird Galleria, Abuja

I've spent Christmas in America and Spain and they all add their own distinct flavours to the Western concept of Christmas (in Spain there's a greater emphasis on the Three Wise Men with festivals and processions celebrating them). But what I see in Abuja are half-hearted attempts at imitating the Western idea of Christmas, with hollow, misunderstood efforts at manufacturing an atmosphere that doesn't fit the region, and attempts to ignite a collective feeling that just isn't there.

The Christmas traditions of particular Nigerians seems to only be exhibited in towns and villages away from the capital, where cattle is slaughtered and the roasted/fried meat is shared out, families and well-wishers gather and rice is the grain of the season. My parents and older relatives speak fondly of their childhood memories of Christmas in Nigeria, but such festivities are harder to replicate in Abuja, a city of wealth-seeking immigrants from other parts of Nigeria who arrive to the city called 'No Man's Land' to work, leaving their traditions and extended families behind in their native state or village.

I've downloaded Christmas carols to listen to and pore over pictures of my younger siblings, nieces and nephews in their various nativity plays to help stem my Christmas homesickness. I could kiss the people behind the BET channel on DSTV for allowing those in Africa access to the British TV adverts they run, which at this time is on Yuletide overload. I'm sure I'm also boring the people around me with "at Christmas in London, we usually..." observations. I'm rarely usually homesick, but this year, at this time, I miss the UK.

Here's the Christmas I'm used to:

One month before Christmas: Shops start stocking Christmas products, much to the chagrin of some newspapers who splash pictures of the too-eager retailers. The nation is abuzz with conversations about Christmas parties, Christmas holidays and 'Where are you spending Christmas?' questions as the countdown to the day begins, with the growing frenzy of 'Only 32 days left to Christmas' and 'Only 28 shopping days left!' all over the streets and the media. It's already pretty freezing outside, and TV guides and television adverts start advertising their special Christmas programming.

On the radio, Christmas carols start playing and Christmas controversies, events and news are discussed, and kids in schools all over the country start their Christmas carol evenings and Nativity plays, where school children dress up as Mary, Joseph, shepherds, sheep and the inn-keeper to recreate the birth of Jesus in their own cute, hilarious and heart-melting ways.

12 Days before Christmas: You've handed out Christmas cards to colleagues at work, having purchased either the Bumper Value Packs of 20 or 50 to give out en masse (you buy a few individual, more expensive ones from Clinton's to give to 'Special people'). You've smirked at the the usual jokes about kissing underneath the mistletoe sprigs hanging over the doors, and repeated the story of where you'll be spending Christmas (at home with the family) dozens of times. There's a Christmas tree with fake gifts underneath and other decorations in the office, and Christmas-related emails and discussions occur.

Bumper Christmas Cards

Office Christmas Party
The Secret Santa gift-giving has yielded much laughter, appreciation and gossip, and the Christmas party has either happened or is about to happen, either in the office specially decorated for the occasion or in a swanky location. There's usually lots of wine, colleagues looking slightly unfamiliar in fancier clothes, a Christmas sit-down dinner/lunch; Abba, Christmas carols and other feel-good music afterwards and merriment or embarrassment ensuing depending on how drunk some colleagues become.

Christmas cards: With the usual designs of the nativity, Father Christmas, Reindeer, red-breasted Robins, snow-covered cottages and Holly and Ivy

Stores and businesses across the country put up their Christmas opening times and the Royal Mail announces it's last posting date. Public transport companies release their Christmas service times, and carols and Christmas-tinged announcements are heard through the tannoy systems in tube and train stations. Billboards and signs all wish everyone a Merry Christmas, with 'Victoria Station wishes you a Merry Christmas' and similar messages scrolling across the electronic timetable system in stations.

Christmas Shopping
Every business relays a Christmas message to its customers and clients and every store you go into on the high street plays Christmas carols, and there are lights, trees and decorations inside the majority. Signs advertising 'Christmas sales or Special Discounts abound, all designed with Christmas iconography. Price tags, shopping bags and store receipts have been re-designed for the holidays and red and green is the colour of the season and is worn by people, animals and inanimate objects. Christmas accessories, advent calendars and sections for Christmas presents For Mum, For Dad, For that Special Someone and gift wrapping sections spring up in stores, with sales girls wearing the ubiquitous red woolly hat with white furry trimming and bobble.

Christmas deocorations outside Boots in London's Oxford Street

Everybody looks forward to the Christmas and New Year sales, and tons of Christmas wrapping paper depicting seasonal imagery is bought at 'Two for Three' or 'Buy one get one free' discounts. People rush around getting presents for family and friends before the shops sell out or shut, although stores open till late for the holiday season. Things are cheaper or more expensive for Christmas, but either way there's a feeling of rush and capitalism-inspired sentiment in action.

Christmas inside stores

Christmas in the Media
Every other Television programme is a Christmas Special or Celebrity Christmas Special of the usual show, and the Channel icons are festively-decorated and TV presenters wear Christmas hats and allude to other Christmas paraphernalia, clichés and stereotypes (Scrooge, Tiny Tim etc). Billboards also advertise Christmas deals, events and products, and on TV, print and radio adverts for Christmas food and gift ideas are everywhere, with advertisers adapting well-known carols and jingling bells to suit their brands' message. The light jingling of the Christmas bells becomes the soundtrack of the season.

My favourite Christmas TV advert song is by Coca Cola, with the lyrics: "Holidays are coming, Holidays are coming, watch out, look around, something's coming, coming to town, Lalalalala...tis the season it's always the real thing, always Coca Cola." I look forward to it every Christmas.

Holidays are coming...my favourite Christmas advert by Coca Cola

Newspapers and magazines bring out their Christmas editions packed with Christmas-themed programming, articles, features, news, coupons and adverts, and at the theatre, Pantomimes take over with festive adaptations of classic fairy tales.

Christmas Edition of Radio Times TV Guide

Family film classics like Mary Poppins and It's a Wonderful Life start showing on TV, including animated favourites like The Snowman and Wallace and Grommit. Christmas songs are heard everywhere, one of the favourites being Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas. Music artists release Christmas albums and singles, and the Christmas Number one in the Pop Charts receives much media attention.

Christmas Lights
The switching on of the Christmas lights in Oxford Street by the biggest celebrity of the moment is a major event and crowds gather to count-down to the moment the sky is colourfully illuminated with ever more elaborate neon lighting, and the scene is replicated in city centres across the country. 

 

 

The lights in Oxford Street 

 

Christmas lights are put up in almost every home, with the media getting excited about 'The Most Lit-up Street in Britain' or 'The Man who Spent 30, 000 pounds on Christmas Decorations.' The shorter days and longer nights are illuminated with twinkling, neon Christmas lights, which light up the houses in many areas. Some houses have elaborate displays complete with fake snow and a Father Christmas mannequin riding a sledge fixed on the roof, to simple lights with a Christmas wreath hung on the door.

A house lit up for Christmas

 

Carol singers (is that Father Christmas joining in?)

Christmas Carols
Churches around the country hold Christingle and special carol services, and listening to choirs singing Handel's Messiah in a cathedral in London is my favourite thing to do, along with going to numerous carol by candlelight services, where mince pies and mulled wine is served afterwards. Since I learnt dozens of carols in Primary school for various nativities and Christmas choir events, most of them are stuck in my head, and repeated listens every Christmas further embeds them into my memory. My favourites include 'O Little Town of Bethlehem' 'Once in Royal David's City' and 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing'. But I love them all really; the power and depth of the words, the distinct melodies and the sanctity of what they represent; singing them en masse becomes a spiritual experience.

 

My Favourite

Christmas carol singers gather outside many train and tube stations to sing carols for charity, and men and women dressed in Santa outfits collect money for their charities, wishing you a merry Christmas as you drop a coin in their coin-collectors.

Christmas Traditions
'Ho Ho Ho' and 'Merry Christmas' are the most used phrase this season. There are also visits to Santa's Grotto hosted by various department stores, ice skating, the brilliant Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park and various Christmas markets and fairs. Chestnuts roasted on a semi-open fire by the road sides are sold on high streets, and Christmas-only drinks like egg-nog and mulled wine appear.

Wrapped up in all this is the chill of December, meaning coats, boots, scarves, gloves and woolly hats are necessities. Although it rarely snows on Christmas Day, there's often snow before or after. A fireplace, heaters, hot water bottles and cups of tea keep you warm inside the house.

Christmas Day: Some go to church in the morning, but almost everyone begins the day very early when everyone, still in their pyjamas, excitedly open their presents that have been waiting under the Christmas tree for days. For some, this is the best part about Christmas.

Oh Christmas Tree Oh Christmas Tree!

After everyone gets dressed, Christmas lunch is laid on a table decorated with special crockery, Christmas table-cloth and Christmas crackers. There's turkey, roast potatoes, stuffing, gravy, brussel sprouts and other vegetables (in our house we also have jollof rice, fried rice and chicken) with Christmas pudding, Christmas cake, mince pies, ice-cream and custard for dessert. Large tins of Celebration or Quality Street chocolates are also quaffed, the Christmas crackers are pulled apart (Marks and Spencer's make the best), the little gifts that come out of it scrutinized, the jokes are read out and the paper hats worn on the head - the one day in the year when everyone happily wears flimsy paper hats around the table.

Christmas Lunch

Photos are taken, songs are sung, and the big Christmas movie plays on TV, as does the Queen's Christmas Speech which everyone tunes if for at around 3pm. Then some take naps, others plays games and make Christmas visits and phone calls, text messages and emails wishing the receiver a Merry Christmas. Tomorrow at boxing day the leftovers of the feast will be eaten, the gifts further explored, more TV will be watched and trips to shopping centres with friends to explore the Boxing Day sales will be made to spend the Christmas money you received.

Christmas Feeling
The usual activities - tinged with sadness if loved ones are missing, or excitement if new additions are present - also adds to the uniqueness of the occasion, but apart from all the activities, there's a Christmas glow, a warm fuzziness illuminated by neon lights, a heightened excitement, a feeling that is hard to express and even harder to manufacture outside of the season.

There's the cosiness and the coming together of family mixed in with the anticipation of gifts and frantic preparations for the day; the buying, wrapping and labelling of presents and writing in cards, and the buying, storing, preparing and eating of the mountains of food. You become soaked in Christmas, it's all around you and  permeates almost every aspect of normal life, until it is over and the new Year comes round.

However, the reason for the season, the birth of Jesus Christ, is often lost amongst the presents and turkey and tree, much to the consternation of Christians everywhere. But I think the fact that the occasion is still so well observed, and an emphasis is placed on family, love, sharing and giving marks the original event well enough.

The reason for the season: The birth of Jesus Christ

Christmas is an occasion, but it's also an emotion fuelled by long-held traditions, national events and the anticipation and excitement that surrounds it.

I shall miss all that this year.

My Travels Across Nigeria

So, I've ventured outside Abuja to three other states. Below is my impression of each:

JOS
My favourite place so far. The four-hour journey there was full of potholes on the road, vistas of greenery, small rickety houses and tables selling oranges etc on the much of the road sides. We'll reach certain intersections and be greeted by a cackle of snack sellers, mostly kids selling water, plantain chips, sesame-seed cakes and roasted corn. There were also lots of beautiful stretches of trees, farms,valleys and mountains. Jos gets its famous cold weather because of its highlands location and yep, it really was as cold as I was told. Coming from London, everyone expected me to acclimatise easily to the drop in temperature, but funnily enough I was the only one needing to wear a hooded sweatshirt and was sneezing and blowing my nose throughout!

I went to Jos for Easter and hung out with friends, friends of friends and family and ate lots of chicken! A friend owned a cake shop which I loved, and even felt a bit of nostalgia from reading a cake magazine from the UK that the shop subscribed to. I also visited a couple of bakeries and was happy to note that things are so much cheaper in Jos, in fact,any where outside the FCT (Abuja) prices are lower.

On the whole Jos is calmer and more small-towney than Abuja, the people are friendlier and the cool air cools tempers giving a more genial atmosphere. It is also more rocky, and at one point we drove up a narrow, rocky road that felt like mountain-climbing on four wheels.

Some of the mountains that framed our journey to Jos

Unfortunately Jos is also known for a lot of bomb attacks by the Islamic sect Boko Haram. And although 'Josians' didn't obsess about this and went about their daily business normally, you could tell something was up because of the police check-points dotted about the place, where uniformed, armoured men carrying Kalashnikovs (!) would stand behind an erected barrier in the middle of the road so you're obliged to stop your car. You'll then have to put on your car light if it's night-time, and they'll then walk over and greet you calmly, scrutinise you and the other passengers in the car and ask to check your boot. Sometimes they'll also ask for 'a little something' which sometimes we didn't mind giving out, as they spend the whole day in the sun wearing heavy armour and were usually quite jokey with drivers, unless you 'look suspicious' of course, in which case they'd ask you to pull over to the side of the road.

Another reminder that this beautiful state is not altogether peaceful was the fact that some friends and I watched an Arsenal football match in a large bar with huge screens when I was there, which was great fun. Then later I heard that a similar establishment in Jos was bombed a few days ago as football fans exited after watching a match. That could have been us!

Many churches in Jos have also been bombed, especially at special Christian occasions like Christmas, so I was a little nervous when I went to a church in Jos on Easter Sunday. But the security was high and although inconvenient, we appreciated it: we couldn't drive right up to the church but had to park a fair distance away,  were searched on our way in and women were encouraged to leave large handbags at home. There were also boulders on the road leading up to the church. But the church building was beautiful, as was the service, and there were at least six Caucasian faces dotted around (which is a lot in one place in Nigeria) wearing native Ankara. I guess the cool weather really does attract more Westerners.

I went to Jos a second time for a wedding in a Catholic church, and the reception was held outdoors amongst tall trees at the famous Wild Life Park, which once housed lions, elephants etc (apparently many of these wild animals are native in Nigeria,who knew?) but is now an events centre:

Outdoor wedding reception in Jos

KADUNA
I returned to the state I had heard so much about and seen so many pictures of, and I foolishly thought I would recognise some things and maybe get a sense of deja vu or familiar feeling, but nope. Nothing. Although we were only there for one day and one night for a wedding and I didn't get a chance to explore the state properly.

I noticed the billboards here where mostly in Hausa, or one side had the English version and the reverse the Hausa translation of the ad. Kaduna also had a small-town, less developed look, and being the lover of local foods, made sure I had some Kose and Doya:

Kose (Fried bean cakes) da Doya (and Fried Yam) da Yaji (and Pepper) bought from an outdoor seller frying on a large Wok placed on stones and firewood

I also hung out with friends in a nice outdoor garden and also noticed that compared Abuja, the electricity in Jos and Kaduna was less frequent, and I was told that three nights would go by without any electricity. Gosh!

Nevertheless, I must say KD, as the town is popularly called, was a little disappointing. Maybe because I had such high hopes of the place. It was like any other Nigerian town and fades away in my memory compared with other places I visited in Nigeria. I thought the reverse would be true. I hope when I return I can experience it better.


MINNA
I was in Minna for a few days for a wedding and enjoyed it. It was on my way there that I saw my first ever hut in Africa! Yep, after decades of being African, I finally saw a thatched-roofed, mud walled hut! A few lined the road on our journey, along with plenty of farmland and greenery and one huge mountain, I can't remember it's name.

It was also in Minna that I drank my first ‘Pure Water,’ which are small plastic sachets filled with water that is popular amongst many in Nigeria, as they cost around N5- N10 each, whereas Bottled water cost around N100 each.

Pure Water

Minna also had many checkpoints manned by armed uniformed police/army/guards dotted around, and roads leading up to police stations were totally closed-off due to recent attacks on police stations.  

Another thing I noticed about Minna, as was the case with Jos and Kaduna, is that looks can be deceiving: We'll drive up a bumpy, dilapidated dirt-road right up to a standard iron gate, but then the gates would open and Voila! a well-kept drive-way, beautiful kept lawn and large elegant house would appear, and inside the house would be equally beautiful. So many un-tarmacked roads led up to expensively built homes. 

Minna is probably less developed than any other state I’ve been in, but I enjoyed great hospitality and did a unique hairstyle there called 'Abuja Braids,' which was not only pretty but practical too in that it completely covered my natural hair, otherwise my hair would look fuzzy and rough after three days as my natural curls burst through and start poking through the extensions.

I also wore 'Anko' (Hausa word for aso-ebi) for the first time at a Northern wedding, which is where all the close friends and family of the bride and groom wear matching clothing material. The dress I had made was a beautiful fishtail design, but I didn't wear the gele/scarf provided.

I hope to one day be brave enough to visit Lagos. I was invited by a good British friend of mine who went there for a wedding (weddings seem to be the reasons for much travel. That and funerals. I hope to have many more of the former and none of the latter!) but unfortunately couldn't make it.

Here's to more travels across Nigeria!

My Hausa Sweet Shop

I have a sweet tooth, so I love small, sweet snacks. As a child when I stayed in Kaduna, my parents will give us a few kobos and we would buy:

Alewa: small, white and yellow crumbly sweets
Dankuwa: spicy, brown dough balls made from millet and groundnuts, not so much sweet but moorish
Aya: tiny white nuts you chew and chew
Tom Tom: minty sweets

Tom Tom Minty Sweets

Then there's Chin chin made from sweet flour-dough that's fried; thin, dark brown sticky sweets (can't remember the name) and sweet, fried coconut shavings (can't remember their name either) that also remind me of Kaduna circa 1990.

Chin Chin

But these local sweets, especially Alewa, are impossible to find in the UK, so I settled for the normal penny sweets and chocolates. Then I travelled to America and realised that British chocolates were superior to American candy by far: I'll take a Kit Kat, Bounty, Mars, Snickers, Twix and co over a Hersheys and other peanut-butter flavoured candies any day.

But it was in America I re-discovered Dankuwa, when the mother of my ex sent him a whole bag-full, and as he didn't like it (it's an acquired taste) I got to enjoy Dankuwa for weeks.

Now I'm in Northern Nigeria, I've been very disappointed not to find all these sweets easily. I thought I'd come to Abuja and be able to buy these things in abundance, but nope. It seems that the sweets of my childhood aren't easy to locate any more.

I've managed to track down Dankuwa (in Jos though) and there's also chin chin aplenty which is great, but many others, especially my favourite Alewa, is none-locatable.

I think, many times, Nigerians under-value their traditional, local foods and products and only pour money into internationally accepted snacks. Many of the above mentioned delicasies are only sold by poor children/adults who walk around carrying the products on a tray on their heads.

I'm sure the thought of selling these things in a respectable establishment has occurred to someone, but those that produce them and even those that enjoy them often don't have the capital to do this, or are uneducated so cannot begin the process of  organised commerce.

Others look down on these products as not worthy of being mass produced on a grand scale as part of the food industry for national or even international consumption.

But I would love to open a Hausa Sweet Shop which will stock all these Northern delicasies in one place, and the first branch will be in Abuja. If there was a place like that now I'd be it's most faithful customer!

UPDATE

I've since discovered a couple of supermarkets in Abuja that sell Northern sweets, like Garki Supermarket that sells delicious alkalki, a sweet made of wheat and honey, as well as savoury treats like Danbon Nama (shredded meat) and my new favourite drink Fura da Nono, which is a Fulani speciality.

5 Annoying Stereotypes People Believe About Africa

I was watching TV recently and a programme called Prince William's Africa came on. Now programmes about westerners going to Africa inevitably focuses on huts, tribal wear and bare-footed urchins, all of which makes me cringe. But following the Prince's beautiful wedding and my increased admiration for him, I thought I would give it a chance. Alas, the stereotypes about my continent that is deeply embedded in the Western psyche were prominent.

Here are 5 popular assumptions about Africa, plus the reality:

1. DRUM BEATS
Any show about Africa always but always opens with 'appropriate African music' which is: fast drumming accompanied by lone, mournful wailing or aggressive chants by deep-voiced men.

Reality: Modern Africans listen to African-flavoured Hip Hop, RnB and Afropop by homegrown artists performing in English/pidgin/local languages. Drums do play a major role and traditional African Highlife-style music is popular, but most of the jungle-drumming, Lion Sleeps Tonight 'African sound' you hear is only venerated by Westerners.

Modern African music: If You Ask Me by Omawumi (Pidgin)

2. HUTS
Prince William's Africa took some British youths to Botswana for the first time, and the voice-over stated that they were to "live as Africans: in a simple hut with no hot water, no electricity and a diet of pap porridge." I almost kicked my TV in anger.

Reality: I've visited Nigeria and I NEVER saw a thatched roof, mud-walled hut. Basic, ramshackle structures yes, but even when I visited my grandparents' village I saw two-storey houses and paved roads. I have been to a house with one of those 'squat over a hole' toilets, but the majority of homes in towns and cities are built with bricks and have (sporadic) electricity and water out of taps thank you very much.

Lagos: Look, no Huts!

Lagos Airport: But Western journalists want the 'real' Africa

I'm not saying huts don't exist, I'm saying 60% of Africans live nowhere near one. The funny thing is that airports are situated in the cities so the first thing Western journalists see when they arrive is the bustling traffic and office buildings common to every city, but they don't start filming until they've driven six hours into the most remote village out in the middle of nowhere and call that Africa. Then they return to their comfortable hotel rooms in the city to prepare their reports.

3. WILD ANIMALS
The prevalence of nature documentaries filmed in Africa means that wild animals are so intertwined with notions of the continent that some think lions, tigers and rhinos are a common sight for Africans.

Reality: I saw lizards, cattle, emaciated dogs and one snake, but no safari animals. I know these are mostly found in South Africa or Kenya, but contrary to popular opinion the majority of Africans don't live side by side with giraffes, and only a small population of poor tribes living away from their country's cities hunt game for food.

4. AFRICA AS A COUNTRY
The former US vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin famously referred to Africa as a country, and when many visit Ghana for example they say they've been to 'Africa,' lumping 54 unrelated countries into one indistinct entity.

Reality: The African continent is made up of 54 countries with over 1 billion people and 2,000 languages with almost as many cultures. Each African country has a particular personality and differentiating one from another helps to promote this fact.

5. LOIN CLOTHS
There's the over-used convention when film crews visit Africa of filming a row of scantily clad women in grass rara-skirts and beaded ankle jewellery, and spear-wielding, loin-clothed men with feather-headpieces singing and hop-dancing to welcome visiting western dignitaries who look on in benevolent appreciation.

Reality: I watched the DVD extras for the well-known movie The Gods Must Be Crazy (1981) which revealed that the loin-clothed African Bushmen running around the Kalahari dessert featured in the film were wearing costumes the director provided, as they usually dressed in trousers and T-shirts. Most of the 'authentic Africans' presented as a spectacle for tourists dress that way to make money. Whilst this display of culture is interesting, it does not reflect the daily attire of rich and poor Africans who wear 'western' clothing or fully-covered ethnic designs similar to those featured on my British Weddings vs Nigerian Weddings post.

Constantly featuring images of Masai warriors and Zulu dancers and saying 'This is Africa' is like focusing on Burberry & gold-jewellery-wearing 'Chavs' or handkerchief-waving Morris Dancers and saying 'This is Britain.' These are distinct sub-groups and traditional 'actors' that do not represent the whole population.

A rarity on western TV: Well-dressed and well-fed African children

Why I Love The Hausa Language

I'm in love with the Hausa language, my mother tongue. I love the beauty of its words and its history and etymology.

When I was younger we spoke it at home as usual, then when my siblings and I started school we started speaking to our parents primarily in English, until soon my mother started speaking to us in English also. So as there was no one around speaking it regularly, I started to forget. 

This was fine at first because in London speaking Hausa was not a requirement. I thought I was still fluent till I dated a Hausa guy and we tried having a conversation and to my horror I found myself having to pause and think before coming up with the right words, or asking him to slow down so I could understand better, and finding out that due to the termination of my Hausa speaking in childhood, most of my vocabulary was domesticated and confined to family/home discourses so that a conversation on the presidential election was beyond my capabilities. 

I was, however, pleased to note that I could still pronounce certain words correctly, like daya (one) or kara (add) where the 'd' and 'k' is a sharp, implosive sound, or tsaya (stand/stay) where the 's' is pronounced with quick 't' before it. These are all tricks of the tongue that can't be easily taught. There's also the subtle differences with words spelt the same way, like gashi which means hair when the last syllable is low, and 'take this' when it is high.

So a phrase with a double sharp 'd' like 'ga gyada mai dadi,' which I remember young girls chanting in Kaduna as they walked by with a tray full of tins of groundnuts on their heads for sale, would be a challenge for non-native speakers.

Hausa is the most widely spoken language from the Chadic languages group, which in turn is part of the Afro-Asiatic language family where Arabic comes from. This makes it distinct from many other African languages, and rather than the drum-beat influenced sounds of Nigerian languages like Yoruba, Hausa has sharper sounds and spiked parts, and extensive use of 'a' and 'i' vowels as opposed to 'o' and 'u'.

(See more explanations of the Hausa language on Wikipedia here)

The historical connection between Hausa/Fulanis and Arab/Asians extends beyond their common Islamic history. Arabic phrases have become part of the Hausa language, e.g. In sha' Allah which means God willing; and Indian film and music styles are emulated amongst Hausa/Fulanis, as is Henna hand decorations for women which originated in India and Islamic clothing styles and head coverings. The ancestory of the nomadic Fulanis, who have an Arabian appearance and are present in other parts of West Africa as well as Nigeria, have also been traced to Mauritania in North Africa. 

People from Mauritania in North Africa

I remember, whilst waiting at a bus stop a while back, hearing the man standing next to me speaking Hausa on the phone. I was amazed! I'd never heard Hausa spoken by a non-family member outside of Nigeria before so I strained to hear him some more and after he ended his call I couldn't resist introducing myself. It was like no matter who he was, we had the Hausa language in common which made him familiar and safe.

I've since made new Hausa friends and they think nothing of speaking to their family and friends in Hausa, but to me, the crisp words are music to my ears and a joyful re-introduction to my history, and as they speaks it's as if my past is unravelled as I remember phrases and words I'd long forgotten. 

Speaking Hausa again is like re-discovering something valuable that you lost without knowing when, so that when you find it again you are pleasantly surprised and hold on tighter to it this time around.

"You Are A Fake Nigerian"

Expert Nigerian: Where are you from?
Me: I am British-Nigerian
Expert Nigerian: Really?
Me: Yes, my parents are from Nigeria
Expert Nigerian: But you don't sound Nigerian...
Me: I know, I can't help that.

Expert Nigerian: You don't even look Nigerian
Me: Well both my parents are fully Nigerian
Expert Nigerian: When was the last time you visited?
Me: I've never been there...yet
Expert Nigerian: Aha! See, how can you belong to a country you've never been to?!
Me: But I keep up to date with all the latest news online and through Nigerian newspapers. I speak with Nigerians back there and around the world all the time

Expert Nigerian: Your name is British...
Me: Yeah, it wasn't originally though. It's a long story...
Expert Nigerian: So you even changed your name?! *shakes head in disbelief*
Me: So because I have a British name I cannot be a real Nigerian?
Expert Nigerian: Well with your British name, British education and not ever visiting there, you are NOT a real Nigerian....
Me: But my heritage, history and family is all Nigerian....
Expert Nigerian: Yes, but your family abandoned the country a long time ago
Me: So? I'm even thinking of going back soon...

Expert Nigerian: You don't know Nigeria at all. Most of what you know you've read from books. It's second hand information
Me: So? It's still valid. I probably know more about the statistics and political situation of the country than some Nigerians living there.
Expert Nigerian: But they live and breathe the air there every day, they have real experiences
Me: I know the National Anthem and Pledge of Allegiance...
Expert Nigerian: So? You've never lived or worked there. You haven't sweated everyday under the hot sun, or drove around on the roads...

Expert Nigerian: You're just a wannabe-Nigerian, a British-Nigerian indeed...
Me: Yes, Indeed.
Expert Nigerian: But you have a British passport. You are a British citizen
Me: I can choose to have a green passport tomorrow if I want. I speak Hausa...
Expert Nigerian: But not fluently...
Me: So? What about the white people born in Nigeria, like Oscar winning British actor Colin Firth of The King's Speech? He was born in Nigeria. If he had chosen to remain there and learnt the language and worked and lived in Lagos and drove home on Nigerian roads everyday in the hot sun, will that make him more Nigerian than me?
Expert Nigerian: *Silence*
Me: The white man that wrote the Hausa dictionary I have, he was a fluent Hausa speaker. Is he more Nigerian than me?
Expert Nigerian: *silence, shakes head*

Me: I may think and dream in English, and I may not be 100% fluent in Hausa, but if you dropped me in Kaduna tomorrow, I will manage...
Expert Nigerian: Yes, but most of your knowledge about Nigeria today is from books. Books and your fellow wannabe-Nigerian friends who visit once a year to put on a fake pidgin accent, then return to their jobs in Britain and forget about Nigeria for the rest of the year.
Me: That's not true. I know Nigerians who live in England but the food they eat, the clothes they wear, the churches they go to, 95% of the people they socialise with and even the shops they buy from is Nigerian. The only thing British about them is the street they live on and the channels on their TV
Expert Nigerian: Yes but...
Me: And I know other 'real Nigerians' who as you say, lived in Nigeria for decades before coming to the UK and speak their language fluently, but they dislike Nigeria and other Nigerians, will never go back to visit and put on a posh accent and pretend they have nothing to do with Nigeria. Are they more Nigerian than me?
Expert Nigerian: Hmm
Me: I love Nigeria. I write about it as a Journalist and blog about it. Nobody makes me keep alive an interest in my country, I choose to. In fact, sometimes it would be easier to forget or deny my heritage. So I think I am worthy to be called a Nigerian. My experiences of the country may be different from yours but I am just as Nigerian as you are. I am as Nigerian as I say I am.

My Muslim and Christian Past

My father was a Fulani Muslim. He went to the mosque most Fridays, wore a Hula and Babanriga and prayed on his ornate prayer mat. I had a muslim name, went to muslim classes and spoke Hausa. Although educated in London, my father retained his Islamic identity and brought us up in his faith, although it was never imposed on us.

Example of a Hula and Babanriga

My mother converted to Islam when she and my father were married, but she still retained her Christian belief and even took us to church sometimes.

Now I'm a Christian. Looking back at my childhood, being a Muslim was easy, and converting to Christianity even easier: one day, in my teens, I was convinced about Christianity after a talk with a family friend. Actually living and making decisions as a Christian hasn't been easy, but religion to me in the past was a simple matter of preference and conviction.

However, the ongoing religious conflicts between Muslims and Christians in places like Jos and other predominantly Muslim Northern states like Kaduna often surprises me. From my family's experiences of living in Kaduna,  the tension prevalent between both faith groups was markedly less obvious until maybe the mid-90s.

A cousin told me of how she and the other neighbourhood kids - both Muslim and Christian - used to all queue up to have a turn on the one swing in their area, which was owned by a wealthier family who allowed the neighbourhood kids access to it most days after school, and walking to school with both her Muslim and Christian friends, and of watching Indian movies with her Muslim next door neighbours. No religious problems there. That was in the 80s when Ibrahim Babangida, a muslim, was Nigeria's president.

President Ibrahim Babangida (1985 - 1993)

I guess today things will be different. I hear of churches being burnt and Christians being beaten, killed and buried in mass graves. The Christians are retaliating too, with Muslims being hunted down and killed en masse. I hear Christians are moving out or being driven out of northern towns and of the general unrest amongst the two religions.

The violence perpetuated in the name of God (although ethnic and social differences are behind a lot of the violence too) is atrocious, widespread and upsetting. But I always remember the harmonious stories of Kaduna, a time when muslims and Christians lived side by side in peace, shopped at the local markets and queued up to buy kose from the same woman seated behind a huge Wok placed on massive stones in which was frying the popular delicacies made from Black-eyed Beans.

A mass grave of Christians killed in religious violence in a village near Jos, Nigeria

Perhaps this is an idealised version of a time long gone, but it's still sad to think that, as a legitimate product of parents and extended family who lived in Kaduna happily for years, I may not receive a warm welcome if I was to visit now because I am a Christian.

4 Reasons Why I Hesitate to Say I'm Nigerian

Admitting I am Nigerian is hard when the popular notion of my fellow countrymen is confined to four categories:

1) Fraud: the verbose stranger with bad grammar sending out speculative emails claiming to be wealthy yet asking for your money in the well-known 419 scam.
2) Crudeness: A loud, brightly-attired, rotund woman/man with a thick accent speaking/gesticulating/arguing loudly on the bus/airport/shop/street
3) Corruption: Very wealthy Nigerians who siphon millions from their country's oil wealth into offshore accounts when 80% of their people struggle to make ends meet
4) Education: Individuals with multiple degrees, Masters and PhDs (education is a must in order to be taken seriously by other Nigerians)

OK, so the last one isn't so bad but the first three are a source of embarrassment to me. These attributes are often sensationalised by the media, and I've seen the general crudeness described in number 2) too much around London (Peckham, stand up!)

This leads to my innocent answer of "Surrey" when someone asks "Where do you come from?"

Of course I know what they mean. They want to know where I'm from originally, and often ask if I'm Jamaican. I shake my head no. So knowing I'm not West Indian (which means I'm African) yet being unable to place my lineage because I don't have the familiar multi-syllabled African name, or the recognisable 'African look,' I finally say I'm Nigerian only to be met with surprise.

Let's be clear: When non-Nigerians think of Nigerians they are in fact thinking of someone from the Yoruba tribe, as Yoruba people, often from Lagos are the most visible in the UK and thus exemplify what being Nigerian is in terms of their names i.e. Oluwadamilola Agunyele, fuller facial features and boisterous personalities.

A funny but stereotypical view of Nigerians on British TV

So as someone from northern Nigeria born into a Fulani/Muslim family, I don't fit the stereotype. My name is Western, I have a Fulani appearance: narrow features, slim build and the reserved mannerisms of the Fulanis.

A Fulani couple

People thinking I'm Jamaican used to be great back in secondary school when being African was uncool. But as an accomplished adult proud of my Northern roots, I will not lie. Although after seeing 'The Look' flicker over too many peoples' eyes after telling them I'm Nigerian, a pre-judging look of "Oh, I know what your people are about" or "Oh Gosh, really?" I often hesitate.

Sometimes I try to explain the difference between myself and 'normal Nigerians' by saying I'm from the North, i.e. we have different cultures, attitudes and religious origins because the north is predominantly Muslim and the South Christian. This sometimes works when describing to non-Nigerians why I don't fit the stereotype, although sometimes I'm not sure they get it, especially those that think all Africans speak the same language. But to my fellow countrymen, saying I'm Fulani explains most things. They are still shocked I'm Nigerian though. One Yoruba man kept saying "Really?!" when I told him.

I've been tempted to say I'm Ghanaian. People usually have a more favourable opinion of Ghanaians and like their easy-going, cheerful natures. Also, many people from around the world have travelled to Ghana to explore their long-lost African heritage, to see Elmina's Castle or for an exotic holiday. You'll hardly find any non-Nigerian holidaying in Nigeria.

But luckily, my commitment to sincerity always trumps my reticence. I cannot let the minority that embarrass honest, cultured Nigerians of all tribes make me deny my heritage. In fact, I'm on a mission to give the people around me a more positive view of my country.