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.

What I Miss and Don't Miss About the UK

The UK has always been home to me, but these days I'm finding myself growing more and more accustomed to life in Naija. But I still miss certain things from England:

Libraries
I'm an avid reader. And despite bringing my Kindle and a few of my favourite books along with me to Nigeria, I still miss being able to walk into any library (owning a library card for one Surrey Library allows you access to every library in the whole borough, fabulous!) and borrowing six books at a time to keep for a month before returning them, all free of charge. I miss the silence of the Library's studious environment where everyone respects the quiet atmosphere and are there to read, study or research. I miss being able to read the national and local newspapers available. I miss finding books I didn't know I was looking for on the library shelves. I've spent many happy, book-filled hours at many libraries from Finchley to Guildford, and I miss them all.

Surrey Library Cards: One of my favourite inhabitants of my purse

Abuja has no such book-lending facility as far as I know, but if one is out there, someone let me know!

Amazon/Ebay/Tesco Home Shopping
I miss buying books from Amazon, paying for it online and having it posted to me so that it lands on my doormat (or left outside on the porch, in a safe corner in case it rains) in two to three days. I miss having ANYTHING posted to me, as the postal service around here doesn't/cannot work so nobody uses it. And the prices are so reasonable on Amazon, I bought Chinua Achebe's Home and Exile for 99p!

I miss buying any book I want from Amazon

I also miss buying anything and everything from Ebay, and buying groceries from Tesco Home Shopping. The luxury of being able to buy literally anything online and having it delivered to you is something unique to the West and I miss it.

Newsagents/Corner Shops
I miss having a local newsagent's within walking distance from my house, complete with the stereotypical Asian attendant. I miss the narrow aisles with shelves laden with everything I need for convenience sake. I miss buying The Guardian newspaper, a pack of M&Ms and a bottle of Evian, and paying with coins (the use of coins in Nigeria is completely obsolete) I even miss the tinkerlinging of the bell at the door as you enter and exit the shop.

Christmas
I miss Christmas, UK style: hearing Christmas carols in every shop, home and TV channel; seeing Christmas lights outside most homes and streets; singing carols by candle-light at church, Christmas cards, Christmas TV (Sound of Music, Mary Poppins etc); The frenzy of Christmas shopping in Oxford Street, Christmas Pudding and Mince Pies (mmmm, Mince Pies!) Turkey and The Queen's Speech.

Mmmmm....Christmas Mince Pies

Christmas in Abuja was kinda like every other day. Maybe because the weather was not cold. I saw some lights, went to church and there was some special Christmas programming on TV, but it just wasn't the same. There was a certain je ne sais quoi that was absent; a necessary Christmas spirit missing.

Calling for Help
I miss being able to contact all kinds of people and services on the phone, from 999 emergency services (no such number here at all!) to calling for a cab or pizza. Many of the services you need is just a phone call away in the UK, and you can even call Directory Enquiries who can give you the address and phone number of any shop, office or service you need.

But in Nigeria, not so much. You either drive to where you can get help or call a contact you know working in the company you need for help. Of course major companies and brands have customer services (although not all work or are efficient), but in the UK you can call someone for literally every need you may have, like the council if the bins haven't been collected, an NHS nurse for flu advice or Closer magazine for whatever reason. Such connectivity is priceless!

Cultural References

I miss being able to refer to popular events, people and things and being confident that the person I'm talking to will get it. E.g. She sounded like Bianca from Eastenders; he looked like he'd being tangoed; It's like when Princess Diana died. People in Nigeria won't get those references. But anyway it doesn't happen too often because Nigerians have pretty much kept up with the West in terms of cultural consumption, from music, TV to celebrities and current affairs. They're pretty clued up.

What I Don't Miss

Food

I've always preferred Nigerian food so there's nothing I miss food-wise from England. And you can buy all the British cuisine you need from the supermarkets here anyway, from Robertson's Marmalade to Bacon and sausages. So I love the food here! Though I do miss Kellogg's Coco Rocks, I haven't seen that any where yet. And perhaps fish and chips from a chip shop, but who needs that when you can eat authentic Pounded Yam - that was actually pounded in a mortar with a pestle, not the dull powdered kind - with real Egusi soup? How can I miss Penny sweets and Liquorice when I can enjoy sugar canes - the natural source of sugar - or real, rich honey from Nigerian bees?

I'm still looking for Kellogg's Coco Rocks in Abuja

TV/Movies

I thought I'd miss many of my favourite television programmes and the new movies coming out whilst in Nigeria, but thankfully you can watch Western programming and movies on DSTV cable. And I was so happy to be able to purchase the latest season of The Good Wife from a DVD stall, which also stocked DVDs of all the seasons of almost every US TV series ever produced, including my guilty pleasures Keeping up with the Kardashians and Donald Trump's The Apprentice. I was amazed. (I guess these are illegal though right?) 

My absolute favourite US TV Drama right now

As for new film releases, there are cinemas in Abuja that screen the latest from Hollywood. Failing that, I just copy films from friends' laptops. (I hope I'm not incriminating myself here...)

The Weather

For obvious reasons. I'd rather sweat profusely and be weakened by the sun in Abuja than shiver violently as my fingers turn blue from extreme cold. It's easier to die from cold than heat right? And it really isn't that hot here, plus ACs in cars, your office, shopping malls and at home means you don't need to swelter under the sun for long. 

Friends and Family

I miss being with my friends and family back in the UK, but with Skype, Facebook, Blackberry Messenger, Whatsapp, Email and phone calls, I never actually miss hearing from them, speaking to them or even seeing them. It makes things so much better, especially since I'm not the home-sick kinda person anyway.

Nigerian Politics vs British Politics

I'd heard a lot about Nigerian politics and politicians before I arrived in Abuja, and unfortunately, not much of it was praiseworthy. But now I'm here, it's not all as bad as it seems. Nigerian politicians can be very personable, generous and ingenious.

Here's an informal comparison between Politics in Nigeria with Politics in the UK.

Motives for Entering Politics
UK: To make an impact in your country or constituency; to pass a bill you have a passion for; to make your family proud; it's a feasible progression of your law/business/media career; you were inspired by another politician when you were younger; it's one of five traditional careers that the alumni at your prestigious school (Eton, Oxford, Cambridge) are groomed for or because you have a burning desire to be a notable Briton.


Nigeria: Money! There's big bucks to be made from being a politician in Nigeria. It's like winning the jackpot, all at once the nation's oil wealth becomes your own personal bank account for you to use, distribute and appropriate as you see fit. If money is not your motive, good for you, but you and me and the whole nation knows you'll 'chop' (enjoy) plenty of it anyway, so go ahead!

Public Service

UK: Politicians are held highly accountable for their service. You may email, call, text, Facebook  or visit your MP if and when you have a particular issue they are obliged to help you, and taking care of their constituency facilities, roads, libraries etc goes without saying. MPs have resigned for inefficiencies and wrongful practices, and politicians are very mindful not to get a bad reputation in the media. 

Nigeria: The voting of politicians into power is shrouded in so much raised eyebrows and kissed teeth that there's little trust in the elected officials. When a politician builds a road, sanitises an area or improves a school, he is celebrated, like Lagos Governor Babatunde Fashola, whose positive works in Lagos have garnered him great praise in Nigeria. But in the UK he would just be doing his job. 

Lagos Governor Babatunde Fashola: Nigerians sing his praises, but he's just doing his job

Extra-Curricular Businesses

UK: This is frowned upon, especially when it's very lucrative. You can raise money for charity, but huge profits for yourself is questionable. I watched an investigative documentary once that exposed the money-making practices of some politicians, whereby they were on the boards of private companies and were paid for consultancy services whilst also employed as an MP. It probably happens a lot in private, but it's not something MPs talk about or want citizens and the media to find out about.

Nigeria: I've heard of MPs receiving oil wells as their personal investments, dashing (giving) their children oil wells and securing lucrative contracts worth billions of Naira for themselves and their people. This is not so much frowned upon as expected. And the penalties and consequences for such acts are almost non-existent so that it happens openly.

Expectations

UK: You're expected to be respectable and effective, avoid scandal and leave office with your reputation intact. If you do encounter disgrace, you resign, and although you'll probably get another lucrative job, your scandal will limit your effectiveness. No-one expects money to flow from you because an MP isn't paid that much and flashing the cash is not the way the British do things.

Nigerians: You are expected to give money, cars, homes and contracts to your family, friends and kin. In fact, when you are elected or appointed, those around you rejoice because they're getting ready to enjoy your expensive gifts, and there'll be a line outside your house every morning from people coming to receive jobs and other gifts from you. In a way, the pressure from family encourages the siphoning of public funds so you'll be seen as generous and taking care of your own.

Travel to Work

UK: Taxi, Tube or private car (but don't own more than one, else you'll be judged extravagant, e.g. John Prescott, who was taunted and nicknamed 'Two Jags' for daring to own two Jaguars) I remember once waiting for the bus at Willesden Green in London and turning around to see ex-London Mayor Ken Livingstone behind me, also waiting for the bus, and current Prime Minister David Cameron used to ride a bicycle to work.

British Prime Minister David Cameron proudly cycling to work in London

Nigeria: In Abuja I've seen motorcades complete with a bullet-proof SUV-type car with tinted wondows led by two official motorcycles with their sirens on as they cleared traffic, and other cars parked on the side to allow them to pass. I thought it was the president himself but alas, it was only a senator. Politicians can have up to 12 top-of-the-range cars without anyone batting an eyelid and they always travel first class.

Houses

UK: The Expenses Scandal was a huge political expose in the UK a few years back when the media revealed that many MPs charged their various expenses - from taxi journeys to house rent - to their expenses account, which wasn't exactly illegal but scandalous nonetheless and, according to the British media, revealed the excesses MPs enjoyed at taxpayers' expense. I remember some MPs were vilified for owning houses in the country but renting flats in London charged to their expenses, and those that owned more than one house were publicly shamed for being out of touch with their not-so-wealthy constituents.

Nigeria: Multiple huge houses in wealthy areas like Maitama in Abuja are routinely built and houses in wealthy areas abroad bought by Nigerian politicians, and many also construct lavish residences in their village of origin, so that in some under-developed hamlet in deepest Nigeria a huge mansion owned by a politician will be surrounded by small, ramshackle houses of the other villagers. And many of the politicians rarely spend more than a week in many of their houses, so that they stand empty and useless most of the year.

Dressing
UK: Suits. Just suits. Everybody wears suits. Occasionally you may remove your jacket and be seen with just your shirt and tie, and you can even roll up your sleeves. You also have a selection of different coloured ties to choose from, but on the whole, just wear suits. Women may wear skirt or trouser suits.

The black and white uniformity of British Parliament

Nigeria: Depends on your religion, tribe, taste and personal quirks, so that a roomful of Nigerian politicians is a lesson in individuality. From Babanrigas and Kaftans in a variety of colours, embroidery, materials and styles depending on your tribe or tastes, with accompanying caps (matching or differently coloured, or the traditional red if you're Igbo/Delta) to a large Kaftan-style top and black wide-brimmed hat like our President Goodluck Jonathan, or military uniform/wear. You may also wear suits with different coloured bow-ties or ties. Women also have a variety of both native and western outfits to choose from, accompanied by scarves or geles.You can be as original, expressive or eccentric as you like, but always be smart.

The varying attires of Nigerian Politicians, from top to bottom: Sir Ahmadu Bello, General Ibrahim Babangida, Former President Musa Yar'Adua and current President Goodluck Jonathan

The individualism and varying cultural expressions on display at the Nigerian Senate

Religion in Public
UK: No prayer in public or acknowledgement of religion at all, unless it's during discussions of terrorism, freedom of speech or gay marriage. Ex-British Prime Minister Tony Blair's Press Secretary Alistair Campbell famously said 'We don't do God.' Although David Cameron recently declared that Britain was a Christian country, on the whole Religion and Politics rarely mix.

Nigerian: Both Christian and Muslim prayers are said before any major session in Parliament or major state event. Religion is discussed openly (although not always without tension) and it's an unwritten rule that Nigerian Presidents must alternate on religious lines, so if there's a Christian ruler now, the next ruler should be a Muslim.

Religion in Private
UK: Very private. Only the Queen's church going is documented, but Prime Ministers and other politicians are rarely pictured going to church or mosques or even talk about religion (except famous Catholic MP Ann Widdecombe)

Nigeria: President Goodluck Jonathan was recently shown on TV celebrating his birthday in church, and at one point he sat down whilst everyone else stood up and prayed for him. Other politicians are notable members of various churches and mosques and regularly talk about the importance of their faith in interviews.

Sexual Immorality/Adultery
UK: Absolutely frowned upon: a politician whose sins - whether promiscuity, theft, illegal practises, bribery or violent conduct - becomes public very quickly becomes an out-of-work politician. There was one issue of a male MP whose boyfriend was staying with him at his house, but he didn't reveal this. I can't remember the details, but he had to resign for perjury. Till today his crime is non-existent but the revelation of his secret living arrangements brought him down. When an MP is outed as an adulterer (e.g. John Profumo, who resigned when his affair with a prostitute came to light) his reputation is shot to pieces and endless jokes, innuendoes and media witch-hunts makes committing adultery something you should hide at all costs to protect your job.

John Profumo: Revelations of his affair not only ended his political career but also brought down the then Prime Minister Harold Macmillan

Nigeria: It is public knowledge that many married politicians enjoy the company of young, attractive women, and regularly frequent prominent hotels with said women. Everyone knows it goes on, and I don't think a politician has ever been reprimanded for extra-marital affairs in Nigeria. It's not that adultery is encouraged, but it is tolerated and the media doesn't really concern themselves with it.

Stealing Public Funds
UK: Absolutely discouraged and illegal, and there are firm protocols and guidelines in place to avoid this happening. The possibility of a politician taking what belongs to the public for himself and getting away with it is slim. The Prime Minister has to declare the gifts other visiting heads of state give him and what he gives them, and the gifts should have more historical/sentimental value than monetary value, e.g. an engraved pen. The exchange of money and gifts between politicians and businessmen is seen as bribery and will land said politician in prison.

Nigeria: This is not only a regular occurrence, but an accepted fact. In fact, if you don't collect huge amounts of money whilst in office, your colleagues would mock your lack of ingenuity and your family will criticise you for not being generous.

Nepotism 
UK: Extremely frowned upon, though it happens. If David Cameron's cousin or brother were to receive a political appointment, tongues would start wagging. When ex-Labour spin doctor Alistair Campbell's son was given a top job in government, the whole Labour party was accused of nepotism and a party spokesman had to deny the claims.

Nigeria: Many politicians not only employ their kith and kin to top roles, but they also bless them with lucrative contracts and business deals.

Entry into Politics
UK: The best way into politics is by attending certain top schools (Oxford, Cambridge, Eton, Harrow etc) and by knowing the right people. Money doesn't really play a major role, it's more a matter of class and education, as a commoner can't become an MP just like that. It's a mostly upper/middle class white male profession.

Nigeria: The surest path to politics is being related to or knowing someone already in politics. Education doesn't really play a big part, although a British or American degree is a bonus. A wealthy businessman/professional may also become a politician, but generally the quickest way is through recommendation (God-fatherism) and having lots of money, and someone working as a labourer today can become Governor tomorrow.

Lavish Spending
UK: Frowned upon as vulgar and uncouth. The British upper/middle class (which most politicians are) are not known for their extravagant spending, and any obvious displays of wealth is looked down on. I remember the cruel whispers and snares that accompanied the revelation that Tony Blair holidayed in a house owned by a celebrity.

Nigeria: Yep, this too is expected and tolerated. Everyone knows politicians are very wealthy, and they not only spend their money, the wear it too. The usual status symbols like houses, cars, latest technology, expensive clothes, Rolex watches and foreign holidays/education/homes/healthcare are there for everyone to see. Nigerians may complain about the extravagance of their politicians, but many don't deny that if put in their position they would also 'chop' money.  "Yes, become wealthy" they seem to say, "but at least build a road or two whilst you're up there."

4 Things I Noticed About Working in Abuja

I've been working in Abuja for a few months now and I'm enjoying it. My colleagues are hilarious, the work I do is the kind of work I've always wanted to do in London but couldn't, and the benefits are great. People are people everywhere you go so there aren’t any huge differences between working here and working in the UK, yet here are four things I have noticed:

You Get Paid More If You Have a Foreign Education

I was told this before I moved to Nigeria, and it’s true. It’s like, there’s a base rate companies will pay ‘ordinary’ Nigerian graduates, then you get 20% more if your degree is from abroad, 20% more if you have a Masters degree from abroad, 20% if you have an authentic foreign accent, 20% more if you’ve worked for many years abroad, 20% more if you know the same people your employer knows, and 20% more still if you talk, walk and behave as if you’re the best thing since sliced bread because of your foreign experience.

I personally found this all to be true, but I’m sure if I’d walked around the office as if I’d dined daily with the Queen back in England and insisted on a chauffeur and for everyone to call me Madam, I’d get paid more still. Humility doesn’t get you praise in Nigeria, it’s quite the opposite actually. The more you act as if you’re better than everyone and treat everyone as if they’re less than you, the more respect you get. People actually expect this of you, especially with your foreign background. I’m having to re-programme myself to think ‘like a big Madam.’

The More You Earn, The Less You Do

I was shocked to discover that graduates can earn just N20, 000 a month in companies in Abuja. It might sound a lot to those not used to the Naira, but it really isn’t.  And these graduates work hard, yet the higher you climb the ladder, the less work you actually do.

Naira: The highest bank note in Nigeria is N1,000, yet that's the cost of a single magazine

Taxes and Pensions

Every month, my quoted salary is less by a few thousand Naira, so naturally, I queried this discrepancy and was told the deductions were to cover taxes and my company pension. I accepted this, but later I remembered that I hadn’t actually signed any documents agreeing to having a pension, and as for taxes...hmmmm. Later, some of my colleagues confirmed my suspicions, that there wasn’t actually any ‘Pension Fund’ to speak of, and the collection, implementation and accountability of taxes in Nigeria were arbitrary at best and non-existent at worst. It seems as if some clever accountants are syphoning off a bit of everyone’s pay to line their pockets. Hmmmm.

High Level of Respect For Senior Staff

For someone used to the informal, laid-back nature of London offices, where you call your boss by their first name and they joined you in the pub for a drink, the Nigerian workplace is a lesson in hierarchical protocol. Here you call even your immediate superior ‘Sir’ and ‘Madam’ or ‘Ma’ and defer to them in everything, not speaking when they speak etc. I’m still getting used to and enjoying being called ‘Ma,’ but still find it odd and false to call anyone likewise, so I don’t. I show my respect for them in other (better) ways. Also, senior staff rarely socialise with lower level staff.The only person anyone called ‘Ma’am’ in England was the Queen, so the evident deference here is interesting. 

I'm Now a Fulani-British-Nigerian in Abuja!

Hello everyone, so sorry I’ve been away so long. I've been getting used to life and work in my new abode: Abuja, Nigeria. Yep, I’ve come back home!

I’ve been in two minds whether to continue this blog or not... but you know, here I am. So I guess I’m no longer a Fulani-Nigerian in the UK, but a Fulani-British-Nigerian in Nigeria (quite a mouthful) 

Abuja has been fascinating. They really spent our oil money well in this city: the major roads are wide, pristine and lined with neatly-trimmed hedges and massive corporate offices along the sides. Buildings like Transcorp Hilton is ostentatiously grand and inside is just as luxurious as you’d expect from the best hotels in New York or Dubai, and the prices of staying a night can run into the tens of thousands. I saw more over-head bridges, multi-lane highways and roundabouts in one ten minute journey in Abuja than I saw in the whole time I was in Accra.

Transcorp Hilton's massive building in Abuja

 Transcorp Hilton at night is beautiful (except for the rows of prostitutes that frequent the area targeting rich men!)

An example of the impressive road structures in Abuja

The fact that the FCT (Federal Capital Territory) as Abuja is called is only 20 years old, was hand-picked to be Nigeria’s new capital  instead of Lagos and planned in advance is evident. Poorer tribes were driven out of the area to make way for the shining city (although there are still poorer ghettos dotted around) and in the 20 years since its inception, the FCT has grown in population and in traffic too. The area near where I live has many buildings and roads still under construction, so that in another 20 years Abuja will be even more occupied and developed. But is that a good thing?

There are also many huge jeeps and other grand US-style motors on the road; which spells out the difference between Ghana and Nigeria: unashamed public displays of wealth. It’s not only that there’s much more money in Abuja than Accra thanks to oil and greed, but Nigerians also know how and where to spend it so that everyone can see.

 

An example of one of the grand houses in Maitama, an expensive area of Abuja

In the car park at a popular mall called Silverbird, I saw a group of Hausa teenage boys dressed like Hip Hop artists smoking and laughing, before walking casually to their big black monster of a vehicle (probably a Jaguar Range Rover, but I’m not a car enthusiast so I’m not sure), brand new and gleaming, before driving off. 

The type of car the Hausa teenagers were driving

Apart from that, as per my style, here’s the good, the bad and the ugly I’ve noted so far about Abuja:

Bad Driving & Car Accidents

This is the worst part of Abuja for me. I see the remains of a terrible accident every other day, including a crash between a bus and a car, the remains of a burnt-out car in the middle of a roundabout, and even a Keke Napep on its side, on fire on the side of the road. And it wasn’t as if it had just caught fire, but had been burning for a while. The unfortunate passengers had been pulled out and the vehicle left to burn. The fire service in Nigeria is chronically under-funded so rarely do they come out to put out fires, and ambulances are almost non-existent so victims of car accidents (both rich and poor) rely on the kindness of strangers to ferry them to the hospital.

A Keke Napep, a popular form of transport in Abuja

It’s no wonder that everyone professes to live by the grace of God in this country, cos when you can’t depend on Government, your money or the common sense of your fellow citizen, what do you have left but God?

I also saw a phone-video of a man involved in a car accident whose body had been severed in the middle, and only his spine was holding him together. He was bloody and his intestines were everywhere yet he was still alive, and people crowded around to stare, cry and shout (Oh my God O! Heh, Jesus! La Ila Ailallahu!) and film him on their phones as he weakly reached out to one of the transport police who held his hand before he died.

The outcry against such fatal car crashes rises almost every other week because of the number of avoidable deaths (a whole family of five lost their lives recently) bad roads and even worse driving. It’s like the majority of Nigerians just get behind the wheel of a car with no prior instruction and drive as they please; there’s very little courtesy or concern or consideration displayed. A road made for two lanes will routinely see five lanes of cars squeezing through, with some impatient drivers trying to pass through on the kerb, and motorists vehemently insult each other and overtake each other recklessly. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so manic. I’ve vowed never to drive long distances in Nigeria; I’m too gentle a driver to make it out with my sanity intact.

Traditional Clothing

I love that the variety, colour and vibrancy of the traditional dress is fully embraced in Nigeria, both at private and public level. In a country that so values foreign influence, it’s refreshing that everyone from newsreaders, politicians, workers to market women and house-girls etc dress in traditional attire, from the Kaftans, Babanrigas and Hulas on men to the Ankara dresses, fitted maxi-skirts and head-ties on women; I’m in love with the styles and designs I’ve seen. 

My ‘ethnic' wardrobe is growing and I'm having fun experimenting with different ankara, lace and other materials; different tailors, designers and boutiques and various styles; fishtail, A line, one-shoulder and baby doll and even Ankara jackets, clutches and shoes. Not only are the dresses modest, flattering to the figure and a vibrant fashion statement, to me it’s an expression of national pride.

An architectural wonders: The Shiphouse, Abuja

Car Discrimination

Appearance is everything in Nigeria, and many believe that all that glitters is in fact gold. In most arenas, you are judged purely on how you look, how much you earn (or say you earn) and how well you go about flaunting it. So the bigger, newer and more expensive looking your car is, the more respect and patronage you get from everybody.

I've witnessed it first-hand: on one occasion we parked outside a public building to wait for someone in a beat-up Mazda, and the way the security personnel spoke to us and told us to “Move Joor!” was unfair, compared with the way the same men kissed the rich arses of the drivers of expensive cars. Conversely, on the occasions we passed through the security entrance leading to an estate in a Honda ‘End of Discussion’ (Great name for a car!) or our Range Rover, the way the security fawned over us saying ‘Oga’ this and ‘Madam’ that, it was hilarious, all because we drove a nicer car. 

And I’ve learnt that you get turned away from many expensive areas if you're in a ‘cheap-looking’ car. It’s not fair, the price of your car should not determine the respect you receive, but it’s the way it is in the FCT.

‘Runs’

The majority of Nigerians don’t rely just on their wages to live on, but have businesses on the side from which they fund their lifestyle. The average Nigerian’s ingenuity, ‘hustle’ and ability to make a business out of anything and collect from the generosity of others is impressive.

This is very different from the UK, where your salary is King and the culture and society doesn’t allow for people to create and sustain extra-curricular money-making schemes because demands like business taxes, licenses, permits etc often limits the flow of side enterprises. But in Nigeria, you could set up a newspaper or start selling jewellery tomorrow and all you need is the funding and customers and off you go.

And you will find some without jobs making a nice living, especially young women who make a career out of their 'runs,' which is courting (and sleeping with) rich men to fund their lavish lifestyles. I’ve even heard of men who look after their families from the money raised visiting one rich uncle, friend or cousin after another.

Another beautiful Abuja building: Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) 

The Tiring Nature of Haggling

At first battering or ‘pricing’ items was fascinating and even fun, but after a while it got jarring. I got bored and angry with all the drama that goes with buying things in Nigeria: having to argue, pretend to be uninterested, use guile and tricks etc to pay for everything from a taxi to meat. I started restricting myself to supermarkets and shops where everything has a set price and you knew everyone spent the same amount on the same thing.

Respectable Men Peeing in Public

Yep: men peeing in broad daylight on the side of the road where everyone could see. And these were not drunk youths coming out of a pub late at night and peeing in the alley like it happens in the UK, but sober, well-dressed men who just need to pee. Granted there are very few public toilets around and those available are unhygienic, but it’s still appalling.

A residential estate in Abuja

The Culture of ‘Over-Greeting’

I think this might be a good thing, but because I’m not used to it, it’s awkward for me. When people meet each other in Nigeria, they greet, when they enter a room full of both people they know and don’t know, they greet everyone, and even when they pass someone on the street, they greet. And the greeting isn’t just a simple hello and goodbye either, but a long series of formal and informal exchanges that no one is in a hurry to end. The Hausas have their own (Ina kwana, lafiya; Ina gajiya, ba gajiya; yaya aiki, lafiya; sannu, toh sannu etc) and other tribes have even more elaborate greeting traditions involving prostrating full length on the ground and long, rambling questions and answers you must go through before the greeting is complete.

Coming from England where you say Hello to a stranger on the street and feel you’ve accomplished something great if they say hello back; where a smile or a nod of the head is enough of a greeting sometimes and where you don’t have to greet everyone in a room you enter or even greet someone because they are older, this culture of extended greetings is good, but a little... tiresome.

Death

Nigeria is deeply over-populated, so I often wonder whether the fact that the people I know here lose many people they know to car accidents, ill-health or violence is because nature and the universe is sub-consciously making space available. People don’t die in the UK like they do here. Or maybe the people I know in England don’t know so many people, so we don’t experience death so frequently. This is in contrast with Nigerians who – being sociable and fabulous-greeters – probably know three times the amount of people, and the more people you know, the more will die... Well, I don’t know.

‘Only in Nigeria’ Names

Old-school names that ceased to be in vogue in the UK centuries ago like Silas or Ethel, find their home in Nigeria. Shakespearean, Dickensian and Biblical-era names like Hamlet, Abraham, Claudius and Cyprian are found safe and sound here. Not only that, but Christian-inspired names like Faithfulness, Godswill, Believe, Goodheart, Favour and Miracle are widespread, as are Experience and Epiphany. I’m not kidding. In fact Experience and Epiphany where the names of politicians I saw talking on TV. I also saw men called Clever, Famous and Prosper, and a girl called Happiness. Oh, and I met a waiter called Genesis. 

But one name took the biscuit; a name I thought was only ever given to one man in history, a name that is above all names. A baby boy of two who was born on Christmas Day was called Jesus. And it’s not even pronounced ‘Heysus’ like the Spanish do it, but J-E-S-U-S. When the baby was introduced to me, I didn’t know whether to laugh or be stunned. The funny thing is that no one actually called the baby by this most unique of names; people said ‘Awww, baby is so cute’ or asked ‘where’s that cute baby boy?’ and even the baby’s mother called him by a pet name I can’t remember. It’s like everyone subconsciously knew that you can’t go around calling a baby Jesus. Imagine what the kids at school will say! 

Nigeria has been as fascinating, terrible, exciting, exhilarating, exasperating, annoying and hilarious as I’d imagined. And now with this fuel subsidy removal by President Goodluck Jonathan (Or Badluck as many  are now calling him) which raised the price of fuel from N65 per litre to N140 causing protests, strikes and doubled prices on almost everything, tensions are high and I feel like my country is on the verge of something major.

But that’s another post for another day. 

My Ghanaian Adventure: Part 2

So I'm still enjoying life in Ghana (see my first post: My Hausa Adventure in Ghana). And of course, being a curious 'outsider', I've made some interesting observations.

SHOPPING
There are four levels of shopping in Accra:
Street Vendor: Usually a middle-aged woman sitting by the road-side behind a boxed table selling 2 cedi to 10 cedi mobile recharge cards, items of clothing spread out on mats or food like meatpies, small bags of pure water, roasted meat. There's usually a large umbrella attached to the table to protect the vendor from the sun, and the cart and umbrella are usually emblazoned with advertising for a Mobile Phone Network company; either yellow for MTNor red for Airtel or Vodafone.

This is the cheapest way to shop and street vendors can be found along the side of most roads in Accra. The items for sale are cheap enough so haggling is not often necessary, but the quality and cleanliness of items is of a low standard.

One of the MTN Street Vendors

Markets: I visited Makola, a long, busy street consisting of tiny, one-storey, often ramshackle, wooden store fronts next to each other, selling everything from fresh tomatoes to combs. There are also women selling behind tables and men holding their wares as they walk, e.g. a man holding a handful of belts for sale on one hand and phonecards in his other hand who'll come up to you.

Here you haggle. We were awful at haggling and spent way more than we should have on common items, much to the amusement of our Ghanaian friends! The traders can 'spot' a foreigner and they double the price for you, expecting you to halve it if you're smart, then work your way back up until you reach an amicable settlement, e.g. Trader: 10 cedis Me: No, 5 cedis Trader: Nooo, OK, give me 8 cedis. Me: No, 6 (and on and on until you both agree)

Some street sellers selling pure water and plantain chips

Osu Are (Oxford Street): This is the more up-market high street shopping area I described in my previous post. Here the street stalls are larger, the goods better quality and the traders smarter. On sale are mostly touristy items (small carved statuettes, jewellery, African-print bags, African print dresses etc) and ready-to-eat foods from street vendors. There are also more up-market stores and boutiques selling (high-priced) dresses as well as smoothie bars, fast food restaurants, offices, banks and electrical stores.

Men selling their hand-held wares are also plentiful here. One man hand-makes threaded bracelets of your name and colour choice whilst you wait. I was impressed!

The handmade bracelt made by one man in five minutes sharp!

Accra Mall: This is the most expensive place for shopping, but it is also the most picturesque, with swanky stores, supermarkets, restaurants, eateries, juice bars and book stores. There's also an arcade and a cinema on the first floor. Here you can buy Birkenstocks for GHC300 or Kit Kat chocolate from the supermarket for GHC3.99. There are also more foreigners and children and you might even forget you're in Ghana altogether!

PROSTITUTES
On our way to pick a friend up from Accra's Kotoka airport one evening, we stopped by this nice hotel-bar place to pass the time. We walked up the stairs to the open-air bar area where you can look over the high balcony and see the skyline and enjoy the breeze. It was quite nice. Then we noticed a couple of provocatively-dressed Ghanaian ladies sitting with two white men at a table behind us.

"So, are you married?" We overheard one of the ladies asking the portly white Englishman. My English-Ghanaian friend and I looked at each other, then giggled. Then it dawned on us. "Oh my God, are they prostitutes?" My friend asked her Ghanaian boyfriend. "Yeah, this place is known for the 'working girls' that come here" he replied.

"Oh my God!" my friend and I exclaimed, wild-eyed. In England we'd never been in such close proximity with prostitutes before. "Why did you bring us here?!" My friend chastised her boyfriend, who begged her to keep her voice down. "People might thing we're prostitutes too!" We were not amused.

But soon, curiosity got the better of us and we stayed, drinking our drinks and pretending to talk but really eavesdropping on the table behind us, where the 'working girls' sat with their British 'dates' making small talk before they go and...complete their transactions.

A scene from inside the German speaking Taxi driver's car 

One of the many taxis in Accra

TAXI DRIVER
We didn't always have the use of a car so we relied a lot on taxis. The alternative was the buses (tro-tro), but they were small, hot, crammed and often ramshackle, so taxis were really the only way around (Motor bike transport isn't popular in Accra) It wasn't cheap though!

One of our taxi drivers was a small, gentle, elder Ghanaian man (I forgot his name) with a stutter. After guessing I wasn't Ghanaian and thinking I was 'European or African-American' I told him I was British but originally from Northern Nigeria. He then told me he'd lived in three Northern Nigerian states, Lagos, Germany for seven years and all around Ghana.

He spoke Yoruba, Igbo, English, Twi, Ga and German. I was pleasantly surprised. He said he'd once had a German couple in the back of his taxi, and as they never guessed that their lowly Ghanaian driver spoke their language, they talked about how peaceful Ghana was, but how very dirty the people were. At the end of the journey, the driver asked for his fare in German, much to the surprise of the couple! So they tipped him generously.

He also told me how he recently picked up a Nigerian doctor who had told him how he had returned to Lagos after 36 years in America, only to be attacked at gun point by five armed robbers in his house one night who stole everything. They also made him watch them rape his wife and ordered him to applaud their performance afterwards. The very next day, the man packed up his family and moved to Ghana, telling his children never to return to Nigeria. The man's wife later committed suicide.

I was appalled.

The driver said many Nigerians are coming over to Ghana because it is a better alternative, but some have brought armed robberies with them, as well as a smarter, more aggressive way of doing business. As a female, many of the people I meet feel free enough to tell me about their prejudices against Nigerians (although this driver had no hatred for us) but I think if I was a Nigerian man they would be less open.

WEATHER
Hot and humid. I haven't sweated this much since I was last in Africa. Tiny beads of perspiration form on my top lip, along the bridge of my nose and on my forehead. And the heat can weaken you. We only go out early in the morning or after 5pm when the sun isn't so hot. And I've grown at least two shades darker too.

Then there's the rain. When I first heard it, I thought someone was throwing rocks at our roof; it was so loud! It thumped at our windows and was quite fierce. Then the lightning would strike: short and sharp, and the thunder would roll; a long, strong, deep growl that was more menacing than anything I'd heard in the UK. But thankfully it doesn't rain for long, and the sunshine is back soon after.

In the evenings, mosquitoes come out to play, so I rub a nice-smelling cream repellent on my arms and legs. But invisible bugs still feasted well on my skin, leaving welts and small bumps everywhere. For two weeks I itched constantly. It has stopped now though, I think the bugs have moved onto fresher foreign skin.

One of Accra's side roads 

The beach by the side of the road

GHANAIAN TV
I think there are around 10 channels on non-cable TV, and shows I've enjoyed include Ghana's version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire called Who Wants to be Rich as producers couldn't afford to give out a million cedis (this was funny to me!) There's MTV Base Africa playing the latest music, and Channel 1 had some great South African soap/dramas, where the acting is impressive and I've become hooked! The Ghanaian version of University Challenge and Family Fortunes was also interesting.

I noticed that 90% of the news readers and programme presenters 'put on' an accent, whether British or American, which caused great amusement to my friend and I because it mangled their pronunciations and made them sound ridiculous sometimes. This is a problem across Africa, where people feel they have to speak with a foreign accent, and although fellow Africans who know no better may be impressed, actual British or American people (or those with genuine accents) are not fooled. Incidentally, the presenter of Who Wants to be Rich was one of very few presenters who retained a natural, educated-Ghanaian accent which endeared him to us and made him easier to understand.

We've also been watching Nigerian and Ghanaian movies (also a source of much amusement!) as well as Bollywood movies and Latin tele-novellas dubbed with robotic American voices.


Random Things I Also Noticed:

• Ghanaian girls in secondary schools are required to cut their hair really short as part of the uniform (which I think is a shame)
• The gutters on the sides of many roads are potential death traps! I almost fell into one that was missing its cover, and most were made with no covers
• Ghanaian chin-chin (they call it chips) is salty and long whilst Nigerian chin-chin is small and sweet. I prefer Nigerian chin-chin
• Mobile phone companies are a major part of Ghanaian life and business; they sponsor sports and music events, are behind some TV channels, provide traders with their tables (as I described above) and the majority of the shop signs in the area I'm staying were provided by a phone company, which gave a uniformity to their colours and appearance
• In the UK, people stare at you, then turn away immediately when you meet their gaze. In Ghana, people stare at you and continue staring at you even when you meet their gaze. They look until they're satisfied
• When you buy glass bottled drinks, they charge a deposit for the bottle and when you bring it back you get your money back. They can also refill your own bottles
• I've never felt fear or felt threatened on the streets of Ghana. My friend and I walked home in the dark at around 9pm one day and we never felt nervous
• Airtel's Blackberry messenger service is terrible! I should have bought an MTN sim-card

My Hausa Adventure in Ghana

I haven’t published a blog post for a while because I am currently in Accra, Ghana, getting used to being back on African soil, not having to wear coats and boots and dealing in Cedis and Pesewas, instead of Pounds and Pence.

There are more Hausa people in Ghana than I thought. The main languages here are Twi, Ga, Ewe and English, but a sizable minority speak Hausa, so much so that when calling the Airtel mobile network to register my new Ghana SIM-card for my phone, the automated message said “Press 1 for English, Press Two for Twi, Press Three for Hausa.”

The house I stayed in in Ghana

I’ve also met some Hausa people in my two weeks since arriving in Ghana. The first was a roast meat seller-man in Osu, Ghana’s Oxford Street. My friends and I were bargaining for a good price on the spicy delicacy (the NHS nurse in London where I got my ‘African holiday injections’ told me to stay away from street food, but it’s oh so delicious!) the meat-seller looked Hausa so I tried my luck and asked “Ka na jin Hausa?" (Do you understand Hausa?)”

He laughed and nodded. I wondered if he laughed because my sentence composition was a bit off. Anyway, my friends, thrilled that they may get a good price on the meats because I could bargain in the man’s language, encouraged me to haggle with him. So I asked for tasters, softer meats and a good price. “Wuni irin nama ne wanan?" (What kind of meat is this?)” I asked. “Shanu (Cow)” he replied. He then said something along the lines of “It’s tough meat, but here are some soft pieces for you”, but he said it so quickly that I had to ask him to repeat it twice. I’ll give myself 5 out of 10 for that Hausa transaction.

Then we continued walking along Osu until a stall selling beautiful African print dresses caught my eye. The stall-owner was also Hausa and he was sweet as he patiently responded to my Hausa-English-Pidgin hybrid (“A-a, zan baka goma-sha-biyu mana, ko? That’s fair now, haba. Wanan riga ya yi kyau, ama ya yi tsada!") He ended up giving me a good price for a beautiful blue African-print strapless dress.

It felt good: here I was, speaking my Mother-tongue in the Motherland! I brimmed with pride.

The lady that did my hair (Back-length ‘pick and drop’ style for those that know) was also Hausa. She’d started plaiting when she received a call and had a brief Hausa conversation. So I told her that I understood and she told me she was originally from a Hausa-speaking tribe in Burkina Faso but her family had settled in Ghana. She also spoke Twi, Ga and English. I quickly realised that most Ghanaians spoke at least two Ghanaian languages as well as English.

Unlike with the meat-seller, I struggled a little to understand her accent but we still had a short conversation before reverting back to English. I’ll give myself 7 out of 10 for that exchange.

The next Hausa person I met was a Suya-Seller near our house (Suya is another type of meat delicacy seasoned with tasty spices). The man’s ‘office’ consisted of him standing in front of a rudimentary barbecue-cum-work-top with a few red onions, spices in a bag, knives, skewers, the grill and a notebook from which he tore out a page to wrap the suya-meat in for customers. We went up to him and I asked again “Ka na jin Hausa?” This time this man, who was older and stricter than the other meat-seller, responded “A-a, ni Bahaushe ne! (I don’t just speak it, I am a Hausa man.)” Implying that anyone can speak Hausa, but he in fact was an original Hausa man.

This transaction was less fun, as he was less patient with me. I got the impression he saw me as a silly British girl trying to practice Hausa for fun when he was trying to earn a living. The suya meat was delicious though.

Ghana has been fun so far, even though my first experience of the country was a bad one: getting off the plane, we had to walk down stairs and I was lugging my heavy hand-luggage with me, and despite there being around five stewards, security men etc around, they all watched as I hauled the suitcase down the stairs by myself, until with just three steps to go, one of the younger men helped me carry it down. I was not impressed. In the UK the men would surely have helped.

An elder Ghanaian woman who had seen me struggling said I should have asked for help. “But I thought they would offer” I sulked. “There are no gentlemen like that in Africa anymore o!” She said, and laughed.

But since then Ghana has redeemed itself. The people are very friendly and easy-going, the weather is hot but not too harsh and although Accra is not as swanky or architecturally-developed as Abuja, its peaceful, humble nature won me over.

I enjoyed the open-air gardens: sitting sipping Malta or Alvaro soft drinks in the cool night breeze as thumping (often Nigerian) High/Hip Life music blasted from the speakers and one or two tipsy Ghanaians Makosaed in the dark; the beach-front hotels and sandy/rocky beaches (sometimes the sea was just yards from traffic) the markets and the shopping malls, where we saw lights and cameras inside one particular jewellery store as they filmed a scene for a Ghanaian movie, which saw the young actress beaming as she swept her fabulous weave away from her neck to allow her Romeo to fasten an expensive- looking necklace to it.

One of the beaches we visited

I’m also enjoying the one Cedi food stuffs from the street sellers. I've stayed away from the small Pure Water bags and only drink from sealed plastic bottles, but so far I’ve bought chin-chin, roasted pork, meat and fish pies, Kelewele (seasoned plantains with groundnuts) and even sweet green apples from a traffic-hawker who cantered to keep up with our slowly-moving car in rush hour as he shoved the fruits wrapped in cling-film through our car window.

But don’t tell the NHS nurse!

My Life as the Only Northerner Amongst Southerners

Because I'm a Christian and Fulanis are Muslims, and because my family never lived amongst other Northerners in the UK, I have grown up surrounded by Yorubas and Igbos. So at the Nigerian event I go to I am the only Northerner present. I am sometimes the first Fulani person many people have ever met.

Being amongst your countrymen yet feeling out of place for being the only one of your ethnicity is an interesting predicament.

Feeling Like an Outsider
No one ever assumes I'm Nigerian, so I'm always self-conscious at a Nigerian gathering. People say I look Jamaican, West Indian, Sierra Leonean, Ethiopian, Cameroonian, Somalian...I've heard it all, except Nigerian. When people question your origin all the time and are surprised when you tell them where you're from, you start to view yourself differently.

Sometimes I feel like declaring my origin the minute I step into a Nigerian event to avoid confusion, or tattoo 'Yes, I am Nigerian too' on my forehead. I often feel like an impostor at these gatherings, and I imagine that some people are thinking "What's that Jamaican girl doing here?"

In a couple of churches I've been to (and I've been to a lot both as a worshipper and a Christian media journalist) the Pastor would tell a Yoruba joke or proverb at the pulpit that everyone laughs or nods at except me; or the choir would sing a popular Yoruba song everyone else would sing along to except me. I've even been to a Nigerian comedy show where comedians told their jokes in pidgin and Yoruba.


The 'Are You Nigerian?' Question
I've been asked the question 'Are you Nigerian?' at least once a week since forever, and at least three Nigerian acquaintances I've known were unaware that I was one of them for many years. They assumed that I was West Indian.

The funny thing is that when people want to decipher my origins by asking my name, hearing my English name doesn't help. They then ask for my surname (because most Nigerians despite an English first name usually have a 'native' surname) and my equally English surname doesn't help either.

Some people who asked me these questions leave it there and I thus retain my ethnic ambiguity in their eyes. The majority just ask outright "Are you Nigerian?"

People Treat Me Differently

In certain situations, people would speak Yoruba or pidgin to everyone else in the group I'm with, then turn to me to translate what they've just said or joke that I probably don't understand (I understand Pidgin and a bit of Yoruba).

Or people are more gentle or nicer to me than they would be to a fellow Nigerian. For instance when I go up to be served food at the buffet table at a wedding reception, some of the ladies serving would describe the details of the yam porridge (asaro) or beans (ewa agoyin) they're serving me, assuming I'm new to these foods (I'm not). Or a Nigerian Auntie we don't know would chastise my Nigerian friend for doing something, but won't chastise me for doing the same thing because she doesn't feel familiar enough with me.

When people don't think I'm 'one of them' they are nicer in a detached, polite way, but this just strengthens the invisible barrier between us. And some only become 'real' with me when they find out I'm Nigerian too.

Changing Accents

A few people will be verbally-jousting in pidgin, but when I join in the conversation they respond in a British accent. Or someone would talk to my friend in a relaxed Nigerian-accent, but talk to me in a forced British accent.

Or my conversation with someone would begin with them 'forming' the Queen's English to me, but after I tell them I'm Nigerian too thinking that this should get them to relax, they continue to form because they're not quite at home with me being Nigerian.

The Fulani Ambassador 

People often ask me to "say something in Hausa" or they say the Hausa words they know and ask for a translation or a response from me. Some ask me if various stereotypes they've heard about Fulanis are true, and when any Hausa-related issue occurs, they want my thoughts on it.

A couple of Southern Aunties who grew up in the North were delighted when they found out I spoke Hausa, and were happy to speak it again with me. It's always lovely when this happens, and the aunties then make sure to always speak to me in Hausa whenever we meet.

Much to my chagrin though, a few people who have a bit of exposure to Fulanis want to show they know a lot about my people and challenge me on some aspect of my culture. For example:

Them: Isn't the Fulani traditional dress a type of lacey material?

Me: No it's a white, cottony top and wrapper combo with pastel colours at the front.

Them: Are you sure? I swear it's a kind of lacey, covered top that kinda flares at the sleeves...

Me: Nope

Them: I don't think so. Are you really sure?

'Nigerian' means Yoruba

I go to events marked as Nigerian - like the Nigerian carnival in London or a Nollywood film premiere, but usually these events are attended by 85% Yoruba, 10% Igbo and 5% other Southerners. There's even a Yoruba festival in the UK. But I've never heard of an event that celebrates Fulani or Northern culture or ever been to a large Hausa or Fulani gathering that involved more than two families. In my UK experience, being Nigerian means being the only Northerner in a room full of Yorubas.

I enjoy being with my people. There's an easiness and familiarity I appreciate when I'm at such events, and a jovial humour and sense of fun and craziness you wouldn't get anywhere. There's also no wedding like a Nigerian wedding (see my Nigerian Wedding vs British Weddings post)

Yet sometimes I feel acutely aware of my difference: I often don't act, know, understand or feel like everyone else in these places, and for all our kinship I might as well be a white person due to their perception of me and my perception of myself.

Seeing Two Sides
For those that carry clues to their origins in their name, appearance or personality, people have already made up their mind about you before they meet you or the minute they meet you. But my apparent ambiguity means I'm able to note how people respond to me before and after they find out where I'm from.

The majority of White People are indifferent when they find out I'm Nigerian. In fact, many don't even ask unless they have a legitimate reason to. Some express mild surprise because they say I didn't act the way they expected Nigerians to act, and a few have 'the look' of negative pre-judgement quickly pass over their eyes but even then, they successfully continue to act normal.

Nigerians are generally guarded or civil with me to begin with, then when they find out, become friendlier and more comfortable around me. They are also very surprised and ask lost of questions; I've had to recount which State in Nigeria my parents come from, the number of years I've lived in the UK and whether I speak Hausa so many times! 

Northerners embrace me and tell me they suspected it when they find out, but on the whole they have no idea I'm Fulani too due to my non-Muslimness.

Other Africans are surprised because they expected me to be a certain way. Some Jamaicans are so sure I'm one of them that they speak Patois to me and feel very comfortable around me, and when they find out I'm Nigerian they are disappointed. 

Life as 'the only Fulani in the village' is interesting to say the least!