Adamawa: The Hometown I Have Never Visited

It’s odd, that when people ask me where I’m from I have to tell them the state my parents come from. I learnt that the hard way, because during my first days in Nigeria I told people that I come from the UK and received blank stares and raised eyebrows, as if I was claiming something I’m not. They wanted to know which Nigerian State I call my own, a place I return to for Christmas, weddings and funerals. But I return to England for Christmas. I have no grandparents or close relations left in any Nigerian state; my family is in England.

Yet it seems that unless you're an obvious foreigner, i.e. white, you have to claim somewhere in Nigeria as yours. So I now I say that I am British, but my parents are from Adamawa. This seems to satisfy the people who always want to place me somewhere. Perhaps it makes it easier for them to compartmentalise you, so that they can reach for the popular stereotypes and received wisdom about your hometown and its natives which then gives them the tools with which to talk to you and deal with you.

Mandara Mountains in Adamawa State

Your hometown, your state, is such a defining factor in Nigerian life that it has to be written prominently on your CV and it can determine your job or school and who you marry. It is also what people will ask about you after your name in order to familiarise themselves with you. "That Warri girl" says a lot about the woman, even more than her education or current situation ever could. "Don't worry, he's from Edo" or "Now I understand, she is from Kaduna. Kaduna people are always..." Your state can speak louder than your words or deeds ever could.

Yet I have friends in the UK whose parents are Nigerian but they don't speak a word of their native language, have never been to Nigeria, to talk less of their hometown and have only a vague understanding of what their hometown is and what coming from there means. They are British, except for their skin colour and their names which harken back to a different origin, one they are estranged from. And they feel no loss at not knowing. England is enough. So would such people still carry the markers of their states in their DNA enough for it to matter? Should they be judged on where their parents came from?

Many ask if I’ve been to Adamawa, and when I tell them I haven’t they are surprised and say “Oh, you must go and visit your hometown!” But it isn’t my hometown. I believe that your hometown is where you most identify with, where you feel most comfortable, where you came of age. It should be where the bulk of your memories about your family and home emerge from.

Adamawa is in North-Eastern Nigeria

In that sense, my hometown is in South London, which is where I lived during my childhood and most of my youth and where I went to school. I know the streets, shops, train stations, friends’ houses, hairdressers, corner shops, local Tesco’s, GP's office, parks and libraries like the back of my hand, and the places still evoke feelings of nostalgia. 

There’s the bus stop where I collapsed on the ground after school one day because of searing period pain, and a lady spoke kind words to me until my bus arrived and then I threw up in the back seat on the top deck. Then there’s the Shopping Centre where my mother slapped me because I'd misplaced a Blender she’d just bought and left in my care. South London and its surroundings is my hometown, the place I cried, laughed, fell in and out of love, partied and consciously evolved. Surrey also has much more of a claim on my heart than Adamawa, because it is where my family moved to in my late teens and where they currently reside. It is where my younger siblings would call their hometown. Even West London where I lived and worked for two years is more of a home to me than Adamawa.

City centre in Adamawa's capital Yola

Adamawa is only my hometown in the sense that it produced the two people that produced me. Yet it is - to many people in Nigeria - where my identity and my humanity lies. But that is wrong. To look at me through the prism of what you know about Adamawa will be to equate my being with something completely unconnected to me as a person.

I am not my hometown.

I have no desire to visit Adamawa, yet for as long as I can remember the state has been a constant companion, right back to when it was called Gongola. In England I used to tell the few (Nigerian) people that asked that I was from Gongola, and when the name of the state changed in the early 90s I had to change too and say I was from Adamawa, but in my mind's eye the place itself remained an abstract collection of dirt-roads and hazy hills, a far-off place I never imagined I would ever go to.

After all, what will I do when I get there? There is no family compound to return to or leaping, grinning young cousins to welcome me back, no aunts or in-laws to pinch my cheeks or cook special delicacies or tell me I’ve lost weight; no tree or clearing or road that holds a special history for my family that I am aware of. If I go I would be just another tourist. Perhaps I might share a resemblance with some of the inhabitants. Maybe some older Adamawains will look upon me with vague recognition. Maybe.

Sometimes I feel that I owe it to my future interrogators to actually visit the place I claim as my own. I have heard that it is quite beautiful, and is known for its mountains and scenic tourist parks. Some family members might still be there, although I don’t know where they are exactly or even who they are. It could happen that I can go to Adamawa and pass my cousin or uncle on the road without knowing.   

But I can live the rest of my life quite happily without visiting a place only connected to me by history. I am one generation removed from closeness to it, a lifetime removed from familiarity with it.

Maybe one day I will go to Adamawa. Who knows, I might feel this strong sense of affinity with the state, as if I’d been there before. Things I didn’t know were missing in my life might suddenly fall into place and I’ll feel more whole for having made the journey. I might love it and want to return again and again and later share it with my own children. But it is difficult to be enthusiastic about your place of origin if your parents were not. The roots have long dried up and fallen away so I would have to plant seeds of my own, seeds that have already sprouted and budded elsewhere. I would be re-planting flowers already in full-bloom. 

But do I really need to tether myself to a particular Nigerian state in order to be fully African, and authentically Fulani?

I Know it Sounds Crazy, But I Miss Nigeria...

Regular readers of my blog will know by now that I'm not afraid to change my mind. I can stand 100% behind a position today, then change my mind later based on new facts, evidence or change of feelings. (Witness my 'I love her/I love her not/I love her again re: author Chimamanda Adichie) Heck, even my faith in God wavers sometimes. It might be a character flaw, or it might be a sign of intellectual honesty and an unbiased open-mindedness. I'll go with option two.

Whatever it is, the fact is that contrary to my kinda negative portrayal of Nigeria in a previous post and my rush to leave it a few months ago, I now miss it. I miss Nigeria. I wish I didn't though. It would be so much easier to turn my back on it, what with its Boko Haram and Ebola and a plethora of misfortunes and calamities and dangers and problems facing the country every day, plus the impending elections in 2015 that many predict will cause even more bloody unrest.

 Good ole' Nigeria: My embattled country

But I lay down at night and wish I was back in Abuja.

There are two major factors that draw me back to Nigeria, one of which is my profession. Yes folks, being back in England has humbled me career-wise. Where in Nigeria I was top of the food chain thanks to my impressive British education, training and experience; impressive portfolio of previous work, impeccable British accent and the confidence that comes with knowing your country values you and wants you, which shines through and makes you even more attractive to prospective employers and clients; in England I'm having to start from the bottom again, not that I was ever even at the top to begin with.

My almost three years abroad has knocked my professional trajectory back down a few pegs, but more than that is my own perception of self. I feel less wanted here. My colour, my experience, my time spent abroad in an unsavoury country, all of that has merged together to give me an inferiority complex, which I presume is written all over my face as I sit in waiting rooms waiting to be interviewed. The chip on my shoulder must be so big right now. Sometimes I even talk myself out of a job before applying: "Nah, The Guardian wouldn't want me, I didn't go to Oxbridge and I'm the wrong kind of Black."

 Bad News: They didn't want me

Actually, regarding The Guardian newspaper, despite its credentials as a liberal, left-wing publication and champion of minorities, I went to its offices in London for a job training/interview stint years ago and was blown away by how male-white-middle-class the whole office was. There were maybe two white women, no brown or Black faces and everyone there were of a certain 'type,' the type that go to Starbucks and order Fairtrade organic lattes, wear distressed jeans, spent a year in Africa working for a charity, are vegetarians, want to live in Brixton but send their children to private school and buy modern art. I felt so out of place there (I'm not a vegetarian and Africa to me is a reality, not a facilitator of my yearnings to be a good person) and it must have affected my performance because I didn't get the job.

I don't wish to play the race card, in fact I hate it when people play the race card, but I'm afraid that after returning from Nigeria - where I felt so good about being me; so wanted, celebrated even, for being me; where I rubbed shoulders with the movers and shakers of society and met and worked with important people, where all that I am was cradled and nurtured and upheld as wonderful (I could also spell better and type faster than most people out there too, I felt like a superhero) - the British job market has being a slight shock to the system. I started to question my abilities. Maybe I'm not as good as I thought. Or maybe I am and they just refuse to see it and give me a chance because I am Black.

Race relations in the UK is miles better than what it is in other non-African countries of course, and there are vast swathes of England where your colour doesn't affect you negatively, and I can honestly say that apart from two instances when I was in my late teens where I'd visited a majority-white part of Surrey and some silly young men shouted racial slurs at me, one from a high rise building and the other from a moving car (I still think maybe I heard them wrong), I have never faced any overt racism in England in my life.

Sure there are instances when I felt I should have positively gotten that job because I was so right for it, and when I didn't I was convinced it's cos I was Black and didn't pass the 'Can I hang out comfortably with her down the pub after work' test by my would-be employers. But on the whole, I never thought being Black held me back until I finished a Masters degree and still couldn't get a nice journalism job (the kind that came with a business card). Then I went to Nigeria and finally tasted success, then returned to England again and saw that such success is hardly enjoyed by people that look like me, and the Blacks that are successful here are of a certain type too. Damn, I wish I'd gone to Oxford. I had the grades for it, but I didn't pursue it because I thought I'd feel out of place there. It's my biggest regret in life.

My children MUST go to Oxford or Cambridge. It's like the only thing that can guarantee your success if you're Black in the UK.

So I long for Nigeria because I feel ignored and not up to par in England, and having to go from Editor to Office Administrator has been oh so depressing. I feel like shouting out: "Don't you know who I am? I used to chair weekly Editorial meetings you know! I have a Masters' Degree for Christ's sake!"

I work in central London surrounded by huge beautiful office buildings made of glass, and I envy the immaculately dressed ladies in their heels and skirt suits that call such buildings 'My Office,' whilst I wear flats and my colleagues will look at me in wonder if I dressed in a suit. I also noticed that the Black people I see in this part of town are almost always shabbily dressed in jeans and trainers; the Black/minority ethnic service class that serve the white business class.

My Future London office: Amen

Sure I can work my way to the top, but how long will that take? And can I ever achieve the career highs in London that I enjoyed in Abuja? Will a qualified Black woman under 30 ever be the sub-editor of a British national newspaper? I doubt it. Not only are the requirements more stringent in England (the standards are admittedly lower in Nigeria, although this should not detract from my suitability), but there is always a white person that the employer feels will be 'more suited' to the role, or who has the right look or better education or upbringing or experience or looks like the employer's nephew or uncle.

I guess I shouldn't blame them though, like employs like. The subtle and overt tribalism in Nigeria is similar to the subtle and overt racism is in England. But rather than work hard to break the Black ceiling, I just want to return to a country that likes me as I am. A country that will gladly take me back.

I also miss the freedom of being in Nigeria. I don't feel as constrained there. Here if you step out of line even a little bit, even innocently, like for instance parking in the wrong place by accident, you get into trouble straight away, no second chances. In Nigeria things are more laid back, more casual. You can smile your way out of trouble, and rules that hurt no one can be bent (I know Nigeria takes this philosophy way too far though.)

In Nigeria, in a land where anything goes, I felt emboldened to LIVE. Life was for the taking, and if you can get it, it's yours. You could go from zero to millionaire in a matter of days, and the rewards for good work knows no bounds. Generosity of wealth and spirit abound, and you could start a business tomorrow that will make you money immediately, no lengthy paperwork and licenses needed.

In England things are more prescribed and limited. No sudden moves. It's a stay in your lane, paycheck to paycheck lifestyle, and as winter approaches, a grey cloud seems to descend on everyone and we all stay deep in our daily routines; everyone in big black coats under grey skies, all living for the weekend or the next holiday abroad to somewhere sunny.

I also felt thoroughly invested in Nigeria. I felt that I was part of the narrative. I complained with everyone about everything, but deep down it felt good to have ownership over the woes of the nation. Nigeria still being problematic after 54 years of Independence was my problem too, and I wanted to make it better. I had a voice that sounded like everyone else's. Nigeria was mine for the loving, hating, liking. But in England, sometimes I feel detached from the primary concerns of most of its citizens, and other times I am actively opposed to the popular opinion.

The British love cats and dogs and there are several TV programmes and charities dedicated to their welfare, but I care not a jot for pets. Homosexuality is also now normal here, when I left England in 2011 I don't recall homosexual couples being on home improvement, antique hunts and other mundane aspects of British TV, but now every other couple on TV seems to be gay! Then there is the national preoccupation with cancer. Every where you go one organisation or another is trying to fight and beat cancer, but I don't want this disease shoved down my throat every day. Yes it affects many people, but do let's stop going on about it.

Then there's the average British person's love of a good moan. They moan about everything here, and their hate for politicians is so uncalled for, especially when British politicians are actively working hard in their jobs and are genuine public servants, and the minute they do something wrong they're out (did you hear about the journalist who faked a Twitter account to seduce an MP, and when he fell for it and sent back pictures of himself in pyjamas, the MP had to resign?). They should all try living in Nigeria for a week, they'll run back and hug all their MPs. Those on benefits moan that the council won't give them a bigger house, can you imagine? In Nigeria if your local House of Rep member gives you a bag of rice in his bid to get re-elected, you rejoice, here they are bitterly complaining that the free house and free money the government gives them is not enough.

In Nigeria, despite the harsh, unfair circumstances, Nigerians have the best sense of humour about it all. They insult and rain down curses on their leaders, but their patriotism is alive and well. They get up and get on with it, they hustle and they make life work for them. They have terrible habits some of them, but no one sits and complains and expects the government to help them lose weight or stop smoking or give them contentment, cos they know that's not happening.

I also like that Nigerians are on average religious-minded and traditionally inclined; they value marriage, respect, morals and propriety. Even though many sins occur behind closed doors, they are eager to portray a respectable facade. But in England, tradition is receding and nothing is sacred anymore. Anything goes in the name of post-modernity, and my traditionally-minded self cannot hack it.

So there are many aspects of British life that I feel is alien to my experience. Whearas in Nigeria, I felt plugged into every social issue and felt as strongly about certain things that ordinary Nigerians did. I could (and very nearly did) join protests in Nigeria about various issues, but I can't see myself protesting about anything in England.

I visit Nigerian blogs every day and follow many Nigerians on Twitter- I'm avidly keeping abreast of Nigerian news and views because it's more alive to me.

Does that mean I'm not British enough? I guess I fit into my 'Nigerian coat' better than I fit into my 'British coat,' but the irony is that in Nigeria I am more British than Nigerian to everyone else, and in England I'm Black British and that's OK, but it also means I find more people like me on the lower echelons of society than at the top, which is where I want to be.

Could this be a case of the grass being always greener on the other side? Human nature is a funny thing: a few months ago I couldn't wait to leave Abuja, now I'm yearning after the very thing I ran from. Don't get me wrong, England is a fabulous country and I'm lucky to be able to enjoy its many privileges, the NHS being number one. If I could take the NHS with me I would relocate to Nigeria tomorrow.

I guess I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to to succeed, but in a safe country.

So I'm torn you guys. One minute I want to stay in England and make it work because it will be so worth it in the end, then the next I want to run back to Nigeria so I can feel alive and be called 'Madam' again. Then I think of falling sick in Abuja or of Boko Haram and I thank God I'm back in England. Sigh.

Exposed: Inside a Nigerian Newspaper

A big part of my life in Nigeria for the last two years has been my job, up until last month that is, when I was forced to leave. But my time there has not only given me a close-up view of how a media organisation in Nigeria works, but also exposed to me the huge professional inadequacies and systematic disdain for quality and excellence inherent in many of this country’s institutions. Let me explain.

I worked in the pull-out section of a newspaper, but the entire time I was there not a single issue was ever published, even though four editions were designed, interviews undertaken, research completed and everything was good to go in soft-copy format, but it never reached production.

So for the most part there was nothing to do. My colleagues and I filled our days surfing the net, ‘gisting’ and generally loafing about, our cynicism growing each time management announced a production date for the magazine which came and went with no result.

I was often poached from the inertia of my official department to help out on other titles in the company, and whilst moonlighting as a sub-editor for the dailies, it suddenly hit me: nobody in this whole newspaper company can write!

I edited pages and pages of news and features and interviews and read a fair bit of the newspaper myself, and never saw one piece of writing that had any flair, fluency or fluidity. I gave up trying to rewrite news pieces and features; after all they were supposed to be written by professional journalists working for a national newspaper, yet 99% of the raw copies I received were clunky and misshapen, lacking in proper sentence structure in which grammar and spelling mistakes abound, and this in the age of spell check.

Almost every interview published in the paper used the question and answer style, which is the most elementary way of interview writing discouraged internationally as being lazy and uncreative. I also became familiar with many Nigerianisms: words and sentences that were acceptable in Nigeria but not internationally, like ‘severally’ or ‘put to bed (when a woman has a baby),’ ‘taking a turn for the worst,’ ‘resumed his new job,’ ‘Nigeria Police Association’ (If you don’t see anything wrong with these then you’re probably Nigerian.) I was soon able to tell, from reading just a couple of lines of anything, whether it was written by a Nigerian or not.

I often wondered: Did the readers notice the inadequacies? My teenage sister in England, who is an avid reader, writes better than many of the journalists whose work I had to edit. It was painful. I often looked up from the piece I was trying to render legible and wondered if I could do this for years on end. It would drive me insane.

I understand that Nigerians are often multi-lingual so English is not their primary or singular concern, but I expected a national newspaper of high standing to at least recruit the best. Not everyone in England can write well I can assure you, but in order to be employed in an established newspaper, you at least have to be better than the general population at constructing a sentence, and you are expected to have been trained up to degree level with lots of writing experience before you are given the job of informing the nation every day.

None of the journalists (and it is with regret that I have to use that word to describe them) were natural writers, I believe most got the job through a friend or relative or through luck and thought “Yeah, I think I can do this,” or maybe they fell into the job or dreamt of writing but really shouldn't. Sure some did Mass Communication degrees, which made me wonder at the quality of teaching at university level. If graduates had such woeful writing, what of the non-graduates? My parents' generation enjoyed some of the best education in Nigeria that was on par with teaching institutions globally, but it seems all that has changed.

But I don’t blame the writers, heck everyone’s looking for work these days. If an oil drilling company accepts a pregnant woman to start work tomorrow, whose fault is it?

I longed for quality writing amongst the pile of pain I dealt with daily like a camel longs for water in the desert. I happened upon a well written piece I could actually read through without wincing once or twice a fortnight, but alas, they were written by guest writers (educated abroad no doubt) not staff.

So now add conspiracy to boredom and bad writing and you’ll have the story of my two years at __________ . It was like the plot to a bad movie: I was promoted to the Editor of the magazine, but a colleague did all in her power to remove me from the position so that she could occupy it. She couldn't write, had no journalism training and didn't even study media at degree level, but being qualified for the job is superfluous in Nigeria, just shout the loudest and stroke the biggest ego and you’ll get whatever you want. Granted I’d reported this lady to management after N100, 000 in her care went ‘missing,’ but although she was neither punished nor chastised, I guess I overstepped the mark.

So I was unceremoniously deposed, but still decided to stay on as sub-editor, until another woman in management took a dislike to me. I call it women issues. Here I was, all British and qualified and popular and young and fast-rising, coming to impose myself on the territories others had marked out as theirs. So I became the enemy. Then after my salary was stopped without warning, my computer and desk vanished, and the cold, spiteful exchanges between myself and others ensued, I ran away.

In a British workplace, when someone doesn't like you the worse they can do is get you fired. In Nigeria they could also employ jazz and get you killed. Oh yes, I’d heard of such things happening. You may call it paranoia, but after one threat too many I ran for my life.

I take away from my time working at the paper some good friends and a valuable experience, although I wouldn’t wish it on any other non-Nigerian entering the Nigerian work-place for the first time. My British friend, who I’d met during our Masters degree after which we both decided to leave England and ‘make it in Africa,’ now works for an NGO in Ghana where she’s paid in Euros. I’d stayed with her in Ghana before coming to Nigeria and whilst she now works in a company with international standards and international colleagues which she loves, I was brave and perhaps foolish to go straight into working for a Nigerian company, without the comfort of an International NGO work experience beforehand to cushion my landing.

It has been a rude awakening and I made lots of mistakes, said the wrong things, and tried to implement British practices into a place that was unreceptive and even resentful of excellence.In the end the system found a way to expel me, as I believe it expels anything that would disrupt the dysfunctional status quo.

My colleagues told me the secret to success in the Nigerian workplace: turn up to work, do as little as possible, say nothing in the face of injustice and collect your salary at the end of the month*. They tried to warn me, bless them, but I was too full of idealism and the righteousness of my cause: “But this is wrong!” I would say. They would reply “We know, but just do it anyway. That’s the way it’s done here.” Everything in me rebelled against such a misshapen system; I was used to better and wanted better.

I feel like a different person today compared to the person I was when I first began work for the company in 2011. If I had to do it all again I would assert myself more and speak less in certain situations, but all in all I believe everything happens for a reason and I am proud to say that despite many pressures, I never compromised my morals or changed my personality in order to succeed. I stayed true to myself, which demands such strength of character that this experience has shown me I possess.



*This particular paper actually did well by paying its staff regularly, as other media companies don’t pay their staff for months on end.

The Difference Between Hausas and Fulanis

The Hausas and the Fulanis are two distinct ethnic groups found in Northern Nigeria, but they have become closely intertwined in the minds of Nigerians and the rest of the world. Hausa/Fulani is now a single term used to describe the Muslims that live in the North and form one of the three main ethnic groups in the country along with Yorubas and Igbos.

Fulani Girl from Sokoto, Nigeria

It is true that the two tribes are very similar: both share a strong Islamic identity and certain customs including the Hausa language, and both groups have intermarried over centuries to almost become one.

But the Fulanis are sometimes loathe to be grouped together with the Hausas because of pride in their own distinct and distinguished history.

Fulani Father and Child from Kaduna, Nigeria

The fact that it was the Fulanis (also known as Fulbe, Puel or Fula) who brought Islam by force to the pagan/animist Hausa states in Nigeria centuries ago also gives them a sense of religious superiority. Also, the Fulanis throughout history have held leadership roles in the various Hausa communities they settled into, working as judges, teachers, emirs and clerics.

These leadership positions continue today as most Northern presidents and heads of state in Nigeria including Umaru Yar'Adua (President from 2007 - 2010), Sir Abubakara Tafewa Balewa (Nigeria's first Prime Minister), Shehu Shagari (President 1979 - 1983) and Aliko Dangote (Richest Black Man in the World) are of Fulani descent.

The Fulani's traditional nomadic lifestyle of roaming the countryside in search of pasture also distinguishes them from the 'settled' Hausas who live in towns, although most Fulanis are now settled in towns. Fulanis also derive much of their foods like Fura da Nono (Millet cakes and yoghurt) and Main Shanu (savoury butter) from their cattle, unlike the Hausas.

Both Fulanis and Hausa women wear henna dye on their hands and men and women from both tribes in rural areas often have dark facial tattoos, but Fulani men traditionally wear wide-brimmed straw hats with a pointed top, loose kaftan and shorts/trousers and carry sticks when herding; whilst the women's traditional costume is a white midriff-exposing top and matching wrapper with pastel coloured patterns. But like Hausa women, they ordinarily dress modestly in headscarves, covered tops and wrappers made using African print material.

A Fulani herdsman wearing a pointed straw hat, loose kaftan and stick

Fulani woman wearing the traditional white costume

Fulani girl wearing everyday clothing of African print material 

Fulanis also have their own language, Fulfude, which is very different from Hausa. However the Hausa language is commonly spoken by many Fulanis in Nigeria, and for some Hausa has replaced Fulfude as their mother-tongue.

Also, the two tribes have different histories.

The origin of the Fulanis, the largest nomad/pastoralist group in Africa, is obscure, but many link them back to Mauritania due to their similarities in appearance, existence of a Fulfude speaking minority there and the possibility of a North-Western origin of Fulani migration. From the 14th century they spread from Senegal into over 20 countries in Western Africa including Guinea, Gambia and Sudan.

Hausa Woman from Kebbi, Nigeria

The historic Hausa kingdoms, as legend has it, was formed when a Prince from Baghdad named Bayajidda, married a Princess from Borno, Nigeria. His seven sons born of the Princess formed seven 'legitimate' Hausa states in Nigeria today which include Kano, Katsina and Zaria, whilst Bayajidda's seven sons by his concubine formed seven 'illegitimate states,' also known as Banza Bakwai (Hausa word meaning 'Bastard Seven') and included Kebbi, Gwari, Nupe and Illorin.

Hausa Father and Son from Kebbi, Nigeria

The Hausa kingdoms were later defeated by the Fulani Muslims who had arrived into Nigeria and, forming a kinship with the Hausas, settled amongst them. But dissatisfied with the pagan Hausa leaders that ruled them, the educated and radical Fulanis undertook various religious wars or jihads in order to install an Islamic leadership.

One such jihad was led by Usman dan Fodio in 1804 and resulted in the formation of Sokoto Caliphate which became a powerful empire in Northern Nigeria. The Fulanis ruled over this booming economic, military and scholarly kingdom that traded successfully with the rest of the world.

Fulani writer and leader Usman da Fodio (1754 - 1817)

After the fall of the Sokoto Caliphate as a result of British invasion, the Fulanis continued to intermarry and live together with the Hausas. But they often maintained a cultural distinction noted in their stricter adherence to Islam and leadership positions as part of the elite of Northern Nigeria, as well as physical distinctions noted in their lighter skin and slimmer features. This together with an awareness of their history of conquest and rulership often gives rise to feelings of superiority by the Fulanis over the Hausas.

I'm Back in Love With Chimamanda Adichie Again

Permit me this double-mindedness dear reader.

I know I first espoused my absolute adoration of Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in  "Chimamanda Adichie, Natural Hair and Me", and she was number one in my list of "6 Nigerians that Make Me Proud", but then I spoke about my disappointment in some of her words and actions in "How Adichie Fell of Her Pedestal".

I declared that to me she was no longer this wonderful being; she had fallen off her pedestal and I now saw that my hero-worship of her was flawed and ultimately doomed to failure because she was human and imperfect.

I'm in love with Chimamanda again

But I've changed my mind. Adichie is brilliant and I cannot lie. She really is. I never totally denied her genius, but I was (temporarily) turned off by the harshness I noticed and her lack of warmth towards fans, as well as her sense of superiority. But I've since been able to reacquaint myself with her poise and wisdom through consuming some of her interviews and speeches, and I have changed my mind.

But was it she that changed? Was she always this fountain of witty, thrilling anecdotes that illustrate her points so succinctly? Was she always this playfully intelligent, erudite and clear-minded sage that never over-did her power to enchant listeners, was often endearingly shy, with her voice sometimes quivering (nerves?); was she always such a delight to listen to?

Or did she sense that she was tipping over the edge in terms of believing the hype and becoming egotistical, and decided to backtrack, repent and transform into this luminous, graceful woman that has audiences rapt in attention?

Was it that I knew she was this impressive and true but that that reality was usurped by the furore surrounding her 'mailbox interview' and calling a fellow Nigerian writer one of her 'boys'?

Well, although I wouldn't go as far to say I regret ever seeing her in a bad light - because when I wrote about her falling off the pedestal of my mind I meant it, and was very sad about it - but I have now been re-awakened to the beauty of her intelligence. I let small slights overshadow the beautiful thoughts this woman continues to pour out, and it is a privilege to be alive when she is 'in vogue.'

Her Interviews in Nigeria vs Her Interviews in England or America

It strikes me as interesting that the interviews she does that many including myself find displeasing are those she does with Nigerian interviewers. The interview where she angrily chided the interviewer for calling her 'Mrs' and declaring that she does not want that title (despite being married) happened in Nigeria. I think she has less patience with Nigerian interviewers- as if they rub her up the wrong way, and she often comes off as a snooty, humourless 'feminist' in all the terrible connotations of the word that scare Nigerian men and traditional women.

However, she is very accommodating, genuine, warm, bright, candid, full of humour and laughter and ever so generous with her informed opinion with British and American interviewers. And they are completely enchanted by her. Her articles are widely published in The Guardian newspaper, and Channel 4 News love her.

Adichie discussing her latest book Americanah on Channel 4 News with Jon Snow

Channel 4's lead anchor, Jon Snow (who I love by the way. And he's married to a fully African woman, a brilliant intellectual type named Precious Lunga from Zimbabwe. Jon Snow is also very progressive, I just love the man) particular seems to be taken by her, and I don't mean in a silly, British-paternalistic-fawning-kindness-to-Africans-out-of-some-misplaced-guilt-over-colonialism way, but in a respectful "I like that you are intelligent and African and a Nigerian and a woman, so please shed some light on Boko Haram. Your type of voice is so rare and so needed right now" way.

My favourite Channel 4 News lead anchor Jon Snow and his wife Precious Lunga

He truly engages with her in these interviews and I love that she repays his trust in her capabilities with searingly acute dissections of Nigerian politics that retains her patriotism but pulls no punches.

I think I'm starting to see Chimamanda not only in a different light, but in broader aspect. Sometimes she has bad days and sometimes she has great days. She is of course always poised, but in some interviews she is more 'switched on' and happy than in others.

Take this interview with Lola Ogunnaike for Arise Entertainment 360 for instance. Her body language is closed (crossed legs, crossed arms and she taps her fingers often, a sign of impatience or nerves), she seems uncomfortable and lacks a certain joie de vivre she often has, although she is gracious in her answers.

Ogunnaike (whose regal tone and confident cadences makes me swoon with admiration; she reminds me of the elegant Ivanka Trump) does overdo the fawning and lashes on the acclaim, and I could see Adichie cringing under the layers of superlatives bestowed upon her; at one point Ogunnaike asks: "What does it feel like to be a literary rock star?"

Compare it to this interview below with Damian Woetzel, where she is much more lively, fierce in wit and delivery and brimming with humour, masterfully engaging and real in relaying her profound feelings of identity, Africa and other subjects; I could listen to her forever. (It's also funny how she sits where the interviewer is supposed to sit by mistake, and I like that the man is gracious enough to allow her, without insisting that they swap.)

Adichie's interview with Damian Woetzel is tremendously entertaining

The interview is particularly wonderful, and! Somehow, she manages to mention Fulani and Fulfude! The last question from an audience member was from a Fulani woman from Guinea, and when Adichie asks her "Do you speak Fulfude?" I was like wow.

Biafra, Feminism and Homosexuality

Adichie is also very brave. She has not only wrote and spoken extensively about the Biafran War, an incident Nigeria wants to forget (the film based on her book Half of a Yellow Sun which tackles the war has been banned from screens in Nigeria), she also focused one of her TED Talks on Feminism (below) and wrote a lengthy piece describing the injustice of Nigeria's anti-gay laws.

Biafra, Feminism and Homosexuality: You couldn't find three more controversial, incendiary, polarizing and hot-button issues in Nigeria today, and she skewered them all effortlessly. You may or may not agree with her, but you cannot deny that she addressed all the points and presented her case well. She is fearless, and exemplifies this famous quote by Marianne Williamson:

We are all meant to shine, as children do
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give others permission to do the same.

The clarity of her thoughts, fierceness of her convictions and power of her delivery gives me the freedom to be bold.

My initial reaction to her feminist talk was to disagree, because contrary to the norm (educated, first-generation British-African woman born in the 80s tend to be quite the feminist) I'm a traditionalist and my post titled "I'm a Submissive Woman, What's Wrong With That?" explains my stance.

But I listened to it again and found myself nodding to and agreeing with everything she said. There was no need to insult or demean men to gain our rights, she was saying, but a Nigerian woman (she concentrated her observations on Nigerian culture, much to the delight of the Nigerians in the audience who clapped and laughed generously at her often very funny observations) shouldn't have to shrink from success to enable a man to feel good.

Adichie's is the best modern, globally-sound Nigerian voice we have right now.

I used to imagine the things the great boxer Mohammed Ali would say today if he could talk. The man that was so vocal about race, politics, religion and his own greatness in the past I imagined would have a lot to say about Obama and various aspects of African-American culture today. What a shame that he is unable to inspire our generation with his words, and how cruelly ironic too, that he has had to live his final years voiceless, when he was once celebrated for his exuberant oratory.

Well, Chimamanda Adichie is someone who is using her strong voice to stoke the flames of intellectual debate about the most important issues of our time, and I have fallen in love with her all over again.

Bruce Jenner and the Moral Decay of Society

There is officially no right and wrong anymore. Behaviour, beliefs, desires and preferences that were taboo, illegal, wrong, shameful and condemned a mere 50 years ago are today accepted and even celebrated, with Western society falling over itself to accommodate behaviour that not too long ago would have had its proponents sectioned. 

Witness the case of a man, Bruce Jenner, a 65 year old three-time divorcee, father of six, step-father of four and soon to be grandfather; a champion athlete, Olympic gold-medallist and world record holder who triumphed in the 1976 games in what is hands-down the toughest contest of them all: The Decathlon. To be the best in the world in 10 different competitions in a monumental show of athletic prowess; to sire six children (three boys and three girls); to woo, win and wed three beautiful women; raise four children that are not yours; be respected amongst both your peers and the public who pay to hear you inspire them with the power of your words and glean knowledge from your success; to remain humble, loving and pleasant to both family and fans; to be law-abiding and free from the common vices that often ruin your sex: womanising, drugs, gambling and drinking – all these achievements to me speak of a man that has excelled as a human being.

Bruce Jenner: The Olympic Hero

Bruce Jenner, to all intents and purposes, had mastered the art of being a man.

So the fact that he has now begun the process of becoming a woman because he feels himself to be in the wrong body is not only baffling to the innocent bystander, but downright unbelievable. For how can someone who feels he is not actually a man, succeed so well in both public and private displays of masculinity? How on earth did his gender serve him so well if it was the wrong fit from birth? If God and nature got it so wrong, why did he accomplish so much as a man and succeed in feats ‘lesser’ men struggle daily to achieve?

Bruce Jenner: The man

If a gifted concert pianist who, for decades, thrilled audiences worldwide with his accomplished compositions confessed later on that he was blessed with the wrong gift, and in fact always had the desire to be an excellent violinist, and actually felt awkward and ill-fitted to playing the piano, would you not think that odd? How can you be so good at what you consider wrong for you? And if you were truly meant to be a violinist not a pianist, why didn’t fate lead you to a violin first and not a piano?

Can a girl be formed in the womb as a boy by accident? Or is this condition purely psychological or spiritual and nothing to do with the physicalities of gender at all?

The truth is that Bruce Jenner’s predicament, and that of many transgender people around the world is still unfathomable not just to the average person but to science, to religion and to common sense. It is a strange affliction that cannot be explained adequately, yet the sincerity of their desire can be ascertained by their determination to go through pain, ridicule, debt and broken relationships in their quest to right what they feel is wrong.

So I am not suggesting that Jenner’s desire to change his sex is not ‘real’, i.e. that it is superficial. For a man like him to go through this public transformation, it must be real. There were already sniggers about the desecration of his masculinity by viewers of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, the reality TV show centred around his ubiquitous step-daughter Kim Kardashian, his now ex-wife (her mother) Kris, Kim’s sisters and brother and his two daughters. The show that brought him fame with today’s generation too young to remember him as an Olympic hero often depicted him as a man of little importance in the background, ignored and often the butt of jokes from the uber-beautiful, hyper-feminine, financially powerful and assertive glamazons in his family, led by the matriarch Kris who seemed to wear the trousers in their marriage.

Bruce with his six biological children

Bruce with 'The Kardashians' 

I proposed at first that all the strong female stimuli around him weakened his masculinity so that his wanting to be a woman was like him throwing in the towel; an ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ admission of failure whereby his manhood was so thoroughly bashed that he in the end became effeminate to the extreme. His balls were handed to him so to speak, and he capitulated and decided to be ‘one of the girls’ so he can gain some respite.

I thought (with tongue firmly in cheek) that Bruce had been turned into a woman due to his environment, but no, he later revealed that this was a desire from childhood springing from deep within his psyche.

But, and this is a big but, is the power of his desire enough? What of a Black man who states that he has always felt that he was born in the wrong body and actually feels like a white man, would doctors and society run to his aide and grant him his wish? (I’m thinking of you Michael Jackson, RIP). What of the woman who always felt an affinity with dolphins and feels she should have been born a dolphin, should she be free to become who or what she wants to be?

Becoming a woman: Bruce with longer hair, feminine facial features and breasts

The medical, educational and political advancement of societies today mean citizens across the world enjoy many freedoms, and being free to ‘be who you want to be’ is a popular maxim. But the truth is that there are also many chemically- imbalanced people, those with mental illnesses and unstable people marred by previous trauma or whatever else, who come up with all kinds of desires. I read recently of the girl who fell in love with a tree as a result of previous heartbreaks, and the man who felt so inspired by a demonic character in a comic that he paid good money to distort his face to look like the demon, horns and all. In days gone by, society didn’t give room for such deviances of personality to flourish.

The flame of your outlandish desires was either extinguished prematurely by the thought of the shame or ostracisation your wants would cause, the fact that there was no way, medically or otherwise to fulfil your longings and the knowledge that such things were deviant at best, and wrong at worst.

But today, all things are equal. No one is wrong. There is a website, community, advocacy group and even a cable TV documentary for every human pervasion you can think of, from those who defecate on each other for sexual pleasure and grandmothers who perform sex acts online, to men married to plastic dolls and lesbians who buy sperm from anonymous donors. Even what is illegal is glamorised in the media, e.g. Oceans Eleven and the glamorisation of theft.

All things are acceptable, no one is wrong – God, morality and common sense be damned.

So following his long-awaited televised interview with Diane Sawyer, in which he spoke of his transition to becoming a woman (I didn’t watch it), Bruce Jenner is a being hailed a hero, being called ‘brave’ for ‘living his truth,’ and many across the (Western) world support him. Of course the majority of people in Nigeria are appalled and shocked that such a thing is happening, but the enlightened West could care less about the views of Africans who, to them, remain under the yolk of religion and are tied down by archaic traditions.

But as someone with one leg in both the Western and African world, I’m firmly on the side of Nigerians here. Some things are just wrong. Some things should remain unacceptable and should not be encouraged. Some things remain unnatural, no matter the calibre of those going through it or how prosperous the societies that promote it.

I believe that those that believe that they are gay, transgender and all manner of unusual conditions are what they say they are and feel what they say they feel, but I put it down to something along the lines of a hormonal imbalance or genetic abnormality at birth – the kind of developmental malformation that results in physical deformities also resulting in psychological deformities, or spiritual forces not of this world that the non-religious know nothing about – forces of darkness that seek to destroy humanity and torment some people; and finally, straight up psychosis on the same level as a man who believes he is a poached egg. Some people, to put it crudely, are just crazy and should not be given medication to further their crazy.

And the fact that many transgender people who do have surgery to change their sex commit suicide afterwards to me indicates that getting what we want isn’t the answer, and messing with nature can never lead to true contentment. The intricacies involved in the formation of a foetus of either sex is so complex and far-reaching , and being male or a female encompasses the entire psychological, mental, social, spiritual, hormonal, biological, developmental, cultural and personal as well as physical being, that attempting to ‘correct’ it later at a superficial level can only lead to disaster.

Changing sex should be as wildly incomprehensible as changing brains or skin colour. Some things should be sacrosanct, some desires discouraged, and some wants suppressed. Not everything you feel is right, not every human desire is good or correct. That you’re in love with your brother or your mother (yes, I’ve read about these) doesn’t make it OK; the existence of a desire doesn’t legitimise it.

Some feelings should not be explored further. I believe there were many would-be transgender or homosexual people throughout history, but due to society's norms back then were able to successfully suppress or eradicate such desires for the greater good. Some thoughts only grow stronger with encouragement.

I will not attempt to diagnose Bruce Jenner. I actually like the man, and thought him far more worthy of global adulation than any of his famous family, because he had actually achieved something worth celebrating. But there is something wrong with his desire to be a woman. And the way (Western) liberal society rebukes anyone that even dares to call a spade a spade and say that what Bruce is feeling is not kosher, and forcing everyone – at least publicly anyway – into a faux acceptance of what is blatantly unnatural is wrong, and a gross imbalance of freedom of speech.

We have lost all sense of shame, propriety and decency, and nothing is allowed to be sacred anymore, to the detriment of our collective ethics and stability. What we want – no matter how senseless – must be allowed, and to hell with anyone who stands in our way. The enfant terribles, the lewd and the crude, the mentally-imbalanced, the freaks and the fetish, the dishonourable, the abominations, and the dangerously outlandish have been allowed to set the moral temperature; the former outcasts have been given the microphone and they’re spreading their gospel of anarchy.

That my father is now a woman is a thing wild jokes are made of, and it cannot be easy on his children no matter how much everyone says it’s OK. Deep down, we all sense that there’s something unpalatable about it; it just doesn’t seem right.

Because it isn’t.

Interview with British Fulani Author Munir Bello

Finding out that the author of The Break Up Recipe, Munir Bello is a British Fulani-Nigerian piqued my curiosity immensely. 

Munir Bello, Author of The Break Up Recipe

Sure, his self-published e-book about relationships is hilarious and received rave reviews from publications like The Voice and Female First, and reviews here and here were also glowing, but what I really wanted to know was: what did his parents think about him stripping naked to promote the book (yes, that's his well-oiled physique below)? 

And was his ex-fiancée - the woman that inspired him to write after she broke up with him - Black, Nigerian, Fulani or none of the above? 

Munir strips totally naked to promote The Break Up Recipe. As you do.

Munir also said that he attended a Gay Pride parade to hand out flyers promoting his book, and is happy to attract a gay audience thanks to his hot bod on display. This 30-year old Fulani man's outlook on life is definitely refreshing, so I asked him a whole load of questions, and bless him, he not only answered all 50 (I was very curious) with great candour and humour, he also gave me an insight into how another Fulani Brit thinks. Thanks Munir!

BIOGRAPHY

Where were you born?
I was born in Lagos, Nigeria in 1983

Where were you raised?
I was raised in Lagos where I went to school until the age of 10 and travelled around Kaduna, Sokoto, Kano and Abuja where I have family. I then moved to England at the age of 10 to school and have permanently lived here since. I used to go back to Nigeria quite regularly during the school holidays, but less frequently now as my immediate family now live in London.

Describe your family.
Like most I am the product of a mother and father. They live in London. My father is a consultant and my mother runs a small business. I have 3 siblings; the oldest is a lawyer,  my younger sister works in sales and my younger brother is a radio presenter.

What is your current occupation?

I am an author. I wrote a book called The Break Up recipe. I am also currently in the process of writing the sequel for the book as well as filming a dating show in London which will be airing in the summer.

What is your family's religion and what is your personal religious belief?

I was born into a Muslim family and I am a part-time Muslim. By that I mean that I do consider myself a Muslim, however I am not fully practising. I fast during Ramadan.

What career did you want to go into when you were younger?

I originally wanted to either be an actor or a journalist. I realised early on that I was not good enough to be an actor so decided to concentrate on something else. As for journalism, it was something that as I got older, I had less of a desire to do.

BEING NIGERIAN
What is your relationship with Sokoto/Zamfara?
My paternal grandmother lives in a small village in the state and so do some of my uncles, aunties and cousins. I very much do consider it my home and generally when I am asked where I am from I tell people that I am a Nigerian from Sokoto (It has been pointed out to me that it is now Zamfara, but when I was growing up it was Sokoto and that has now stuck in my vocabulary)

What is your relationship with Nigeria?
Nigeria is the country that I am from. Although I am a dual passport holder and have lived most of my life in The UK, I consider myself a Nigerian as my earliest memories are from there. I speak Hausa at home to my family which serves as a reminder to my roots.

Do you have any extended family in Nigeria, and if so, are you still close to them? 

I have plenty of extended family in Nigeria as I come from a very large family, and I am close to them. We communicate regularly online.

What is your view on Boko Haram?

My view on Boko Haram is that it is an organisation that has put our country in the news for all the wrong reasons. I am certainly not in any way a sympathiser.

What is your view on the Bring Back Our Girls campaign and it's popularity around the world?

I am glad that the world is sitting up and taking notice by trying to help us eradicate the problem with the violent attacks. I am sad, however, that the name of my country is seen as synonymous with terrorism which unfortunately is one of the first words that come out of people's mouths now [when they thing about Nigeria]. The campaign hopefully sends out a strong message of support to the families of these girls and I hope that in the end it helps bring them home. I also hope that it isn't just a social media fad that will lead to a swift evacuation if it becomes considered as old news.

What is your view of the Nigerian government?

My view on Nigerian politics is extremely limited as I don't keep up to date with the current affairs. From what I know, we have a president who seems powerless in the face of everything and we have a first lady who delivers many excellent sound-bites that bring a huge smile to my face. In fact, my neighbour and I have been watching lots of her Youtube clips recently. Interesting is a word that springs to mind.

Would you ever return to Nigeria to live long-term?

'I don't know' is the honest answer to that question. The reason is because two thirds of my life have been lived in the UK so I am more used to the way things work over here. I wouldn't rule out living in Nigeria for long periods of time over the course of a year in the future, as when I have children I would like them to know where their father comes from.

Would you want your kids to be strongly connected to Nigeria?
I absolutely would because I have so many wonderful memories from when I was living there. As mentioned previously, I'd like them to know where their father comes from as there is a strong likelihood that they would be raised in the UK.

Are you proud to be Nigerian, given often negative perceptions of the country?

I'm very proud to be a Nigerian because there are values within our people that are very commendable, such as a strong work ethic and an entrepreneurial streak that is unrivalled. We also are very good at adapting and some of the hardest working people I have ever known are from Nigeria. The negative perceptions which are well publicised are to do with fraud, corruption and most recently, bomb attacks. The positives greatly outweigh the negatives. We have the biggest GDP in Africa and some amazing scholars.

Munir Bello: Proudly Nigerian, proudly British and proudly Fulani

What do your non-Nigerian friends thing about the country?

Generally speaking a lot of them would like to visit the country mostly due to the great PR the food receives over here. I do tend to introduce them to some of our foods. The weather also means that it is a natural draw for non-Nigerian friends of mine who spend a lot of their time in cold climates. The lifestyle and pace of life over there also makes it appealing to friends of mine who have visited the country.

BEING FULANI 

What does being Fulani mean to you?

I live with the knowledge that being Fulani, I am part of what was the old ruling class and am sometimes unfairly judged as the son of a rich man who knows nothing about a hard life or hard work which couldn't be further from the truth. At the same time however, it is a fact that we are the best looking people in Nigeria and yes I am being biased on my beautiful family members. Our people are traditionally nomads, hence why it was a seamless transition for me to move to another country.

Do you think being Fulani differentiates you from other Nigerians? If so why?
The differentiation has been touched on in the previous question. It is more apparent in the UK than back home because there aren't many of us here. The majority of Nigerians present here tend to be Igbo or Yoruba.

Would you say you were knowledgeable about Fulani customs and traditions? 
I'm ashamed to say that I am not knowledgeable enough to have a debate about Fulani customs. I know small bits from my time over in Nigerian and from what my parents have tried to teach. Fura da nono is one tradition I am fully fluent in.

Are you proud of your Fulani heritage? 

Without a shadow of a doubt, yes I am.

What aspects of Fulani culture do you most identify with?

Being a nomad.

What are your thoughts on Fulani nomads and their lifestyle?

Very admirable. I have a lot of respect for the discipline it takes to be a cattle herder, which is underrated.

What are your thoughts on the spate of Fulani gunmen that allegedly shoot down many villages in the North?

It is not a subject that I am familiar with but my thoughts on any gunman that would shoot down a village of people is that he is a coward.

How do your family honour your Fulani heritage, if at all?

They've instilled in me not to forget where I come from and always make a point of reminding me that I come from a people I should be proud of which I am.

Do you speak Fulfude?

Sadly not.

Do you know/have met Fulanis from across Africa, and how did you get on?

I met a Fulani from Sierra Leone 16 years ago and we are friends to this day.

What do you think about me: a British Fulani Christian?

I think you're normal, there are lots of people who come from a predominantly Muslim community who are Christians. I come from a heavily inter-married family so although my parents are Muslim, my uncles and aunties are a mixture of different religions. Also my grandmother on my mothers side taught me the Bible and the Quran from a very early age.

BEING BRITISH
What do your British friends think about your Fulani heritage?
They don't know anything about the Fulani.

Have you met many Fulani people in England? If not why do you think you haven't? 

I have only met one from Sierra Leone. I think the reason for the scarcity of a Fulani presence here is because Fulanis either stay in Nigeria or go to America and other parts of Europe.

Does being a Fulani man affect or influence any aspect of your life in England?

None whatsoever.

In some of the interviews for your book, you mention going out to drink with friends and writing when drunk, and you also pose naked with a cover of your book. How do you reconcile your 'Western' behaviour with a (presumably) conservative Fulani heritage?

I'm a product of a Nigerian upbringing in the first third of my life and a western upbringing the rest of it, meaning that the two cultures meet somewhere in the middle and compromise. The picture for the marketing cover was originally met with some resistance by my parents but not outright opposition, the rest of my family have never commented negatively on it.

What's more important to you: being British, being Nigerian or being a Fulani man? 
In order would be 1) Nigerian, as it is where I was born, 2) Fulani as it is my heritage and where I'm from (it's not 1 because of my minuscule knowledge) 3) Being British because it is a nationality I inherited but one that I am nevertheless very proud of.

Does your heritage affect your dating choices or choice of who you will marry?

No not at all; my girlfriend is British and it's not a problem for my family. 

What do your family think of your lifestyle?

Good question. I've never really asked them. I think overall they're happy with it as I've never been taken aside by them and told I need to change my ways.

Whenever you return to family in Nigeria, do you feel assimilated or different from them?

I feel assimilated, the only difference would be my accent but i still remember the customs and the correct way to eat the food.

Are you happy you're in England or do you wish you had stayed in Nigeria?

I'm very happy I'm in England. Had I stayed in Nigeria then I wouldn't have gotten to see as much of the world (cheaper to travel form here) as I have or met the many wonderful people that I have met. All the good people I met back home are either now here or if they are back home we are still in touch. Three letters were worth the move over here: KFC!!

What do you think are commonly-held misconceptions people abroad have about Fulani people?That we are a bunch of uneducated in-breds. Not many people realise what the generation before us did which was that they left the country to get first class education and helped pioneer many things back home.

Would you say you play up or play down your Fulaniness? 

Neither really, it's something I'm proud of but as I don't get asked much about it, I rarely get the opportunity to elaborate on it.

Has your name, because it is Muslim, ever posed any issues for you? 

Oh yes!! Most airports I go to will pull me aside for extra questioning due to "computer generated" reasons. It's the last thing that I need after a long flight but I tend to ignore their stupidity rather than get angry about it.

How do you feel about your Islamic background in a country where Islam is often associated with global terrorism?

I don't hide my Islamic background and so far I've never had any problems because of it. I think I have been very lucky in that respect. I get more irritated by other Muslims from other countries who, once they find out my Islamic background, try to test how much I know, almost as if I need their approval. I find it very pathetic. Muslim converts also tend to do this a lot.

Do you feel completely assimilated into English life or do you feel like an outsider sometimes?

I am an outsider because outside of a major city I am considered a minority. I don't feel alienated, but I am aware that I am not considered as the norm in some quarters, but then that is very normal because if a white person rocked up into Lagos they would be seen as an outsider also. It's never hostile on either side however.

HIS BOOK
Describe what The Break Up Recipe is about.

The Break Up Recipe is a romantic comedy from the point of view of a man. it contains some funny observations on life and some expletive language. To sum it up, a guy gets dumped by his fiancee and then looks back on his previous encounters with the opposite sex. He comes back to the modern day and creates new experiences with the opposite sex.

What do your family think about your book?

They like it. They have been incredibly supportive throughout. They did initially harbour reservations over the language and the naked image, but were never hostile about it.

You state that you were inspired to write it after a bad break-up with a fiancée; where was she from/what race was she?

Bloody hell you really have done your research! I was wondering when that question was going to come up haha. She was a white British girl.

Did her race pose any problems for you?
Absolutely none. As pointed out earlier, due to the regular intermarriage within my own family, dating outside my race/religion has never been an issue. Come to think of it, it's very acceptable as it's never even been mentioned or alluded to when I've told my parents about someone I'm dating.

Does your Fulani heritage show up anywhere in The Break Up Recipe?

No there isn't any mention of my Fulani heritage in the book.

Do you think the book would have succeeded had it being published in Nigeria?

Time will tell, there is definitely a huge audience in Nigeria that would appreciate it. however due to limited accessibility (It was originally released as an e-Book) it's too soon to say. Now that it has been released as a paperback, we will see. In fact today was the official release day of the book as a hard copy.

What do you think of other Nigerian novelists like Chimamanda Adichie et al?

She is a wonderful author and a great ambassador for our country. I love her books and think that she paints a wonderful picture of our country through words.

Much of the reviews I read didn't focus on your race/nationality, why do you think that is?

The reason for that would be because they were reviewing the book rather than the author, but in some interviews it is something that is referred to. The book isn't set in Nigeria and it has no race references, hence why no reviews would mention it. My bio however states my nationality and my pictures kind of give away my race, especially my marketing picture.

What would you do if the follow up to The Break Up Recipe gets on the New York Times best-seller list?

What I always do when something good happens to me: I'd say a silent thank you to God first, after that I'd probably go on a holiday and enjoy a well deserved rest.

See? Nice guy, great answers, hot bod. So go get the book on Amazon! And also connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.