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.

Nigerian Weddings vs British Weddings

I was captivated by the elegance and efficiency of the Royal wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton. There was a real sense of regal simplicity and everything ran smoothly.

'The Kiss' by the Royal Couple

But what would the wedding have looked like Nigerian-style? Below is a look at the differences in culture between a Nigerian and a British wedding.

INVITATIONS
Brits: Invitations are sent out weeks ahead to guests with final numbers strictly adhered to for catering and seating purposes. The invite is usually from the bride and groom and the design and style can be elegant or humorous.

Nigerians: The concept of invitation-only weddings seems selfish to Nigerians so everyone is welcome, even the bride's friend's sister's neighbour or the groom's tennis coach's girlfriend's aunt. But invitations do go out and are usually formal and from the couple's parents requesting your attendance to their children's wedding.

VENUE
Brits: The church is no longer the only acceptable place for Brits to swap vows and weddings now take place in McDonald's, on roller coasters, under water and in pubs.

Nigerians: Religion is of huge importance to Nigerians and the majority of weddings take place in a church or mosque. The thought of conducting a service in an informal setting is laughable and would bring shame and ridicule to the traditionally minded parents of the couple.

A Yoruba Bride and Groom in Traditional Wedding Dress (flamboyant cakes are popular)

PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT
Brits: The couple's mothers tend to want to dictate a large portion of the occasion and are very hands on with arrangements. They can, however, be forced to be flexible so that everyone is happy.

Nigerians: The couple's mothers tend to want to dictate a large portion of the occasion and are very hands on with arrangements. The younger generation often succumbs to the desires of the elders.

TIME-KEEPING
Brits: Time-keeping is important and efforts are made to keep to schedule and not over-run. The Order of Service are followed closely and even speeches are timed to the minute.

Nigerians: Time-keeping? Ha! Does anyone even arrive wearing a watch? A 12pm start is really a 3:43pm start, the bridal party is expected to be very fashionably late, the sermon can last an hour, the reception starts when everybody gets there and the Order of Service is used as a hand-held fan.

WEDDING PARTY
Brits: The wedding party consists of three or four pairs of bridesmaids and grooms men, a best man and maid-of-honour, a page-boy and one or two flower-girls.

Nigerians: The wedding party consists of nine or ten pairs of bridesmaids and grooms men, a best man and maid-of-honour, two or three page-boys and three or four flower-girls.

A Nigerian wedding party

DRESS CODE
Brits: Smart, formal dresses, suits and hats in conservative colours. Female guests avoid wearing white so as not to upstage the bride.

Nigerians: Colours galore! From the monumental geles on the women's heads to the elaborately patterned aso-ebis and ankara dresses on show, fashion is a serious factor in Nigerian weddings. Sunglasses are common and large jewellery, matching accessories and green crocodile-skin shoes for men are welcome. Friends and family of the bride wear the same coloured fabric tailored to suit their individual styles and the groom's guests wear another.

The couple have two opportunities to showcase their couture, first at the traditional wedding (with a separate cake, traditional vows, bride price and lots of postrating before elders) where everyone wears native attire, then at the white wedding although guests can wear native dress to both.

Example of the vivid wedding 'uniform' (aso-ebi), sunglasses and thick jewellery at a Nigerian wedding

SERMON
Brits: The sermon by the Vicar is scripted and traditional and lasts no more than 20 minutes.
Nigerians: The sermon by the Pastor is unscripted and includes much advice, humorous marriage anecdotes and audience participation and can last an hour.

RECEPTION DECORATION
Brits: Colour-themed, draped chairs and tables, centre-pieces and favours.
Nigerians: Colour-themed, draped chairs and tables, centre-pieces, favours and snacks like chin-chin and puff- puff, canned drinks and large juice cartons waiting on the tables.

A Benin/Igbo Bride and Groom in Traditional Wedding Dress

NUMBER OF GUESTS 
Brits: Guests can number from 10 to 300 for a large wedding.
Nigerians: Guests can number from 200 to 3,000 for a large wedding

SEATING
Brits: There are place-names and everyone knows where they ought to sit. There is also a top table for the bridal party.
Nigerians: There are no place-names and everyone sits where they want. There is a top table on a stage for the bridal party.

A Hausa Bride and Groom in Traditional Wedding Dress

FOOD
Brits: A set menu of three courses including dessert, tabled or from a buffet with alcohol a-plenty from a bar
Nigerians: A varied buffet serving up to twelve dishes including jollof rice, fried rice, yam, meat and fish dishes, salad, sauces and pounded yam. There is no dessert (except the wedding cake) but lots of soft drinks and non-alcoholic malt beer like Supermalt. There is usually no alcohol.

MUSIC
Brits: A live band playing guitar-led music or a wedding singer
Nigerians: An energetic live band playing drum-led music with religious lyrics, or if the couple is rich, a famous musician like TuFace or Ice Prince.

Example of Nigerian Wedding Cake (Probably for a Traditional Wedding)

DANCING

Brits: Bride and Groom have the first dance, then guests dance demurely until drunk when their moves become more comical and exuberant.

 

Nigerians: Bride and Groom have the first dance and are expected to energetically showcase their dance skills whilst guests paste dollar bills on their foreheads which drop to the ground and are gathered up by a member of the bridal party employed for such a task. The guests then dance with exuberance without the need for alcohol.

GIFTS

Brits: Wedding presents are expected and given, often from a gift list but giving money is frowned upon.

Nigerians: Wedding presents are expected but many guests arrive empty-handed. Giving money in white envelopes is common and appreciated. Towards the end of the evening, guests receive personalised gifts bearing a picture of the couple and a message from the gifts' sponsor, e.g. calendars or mugs with a smiling picture of 'Bunmi and Ade; 22/05/10 May God Bless Your Union; Love from the Adenuga Family.' Wealthier couples give out luxury gifts, from televisions to designer handbags to select guests.

 

Union between the Western and the Traditional

"You Are A Fake Fulani"

Expert Fulani: You can't be a Fulani and a Christian
Me: That's like saying you can't be a Pakistani-Christian or an English-Muslim. But you know people like that exist right?
Expert Fulani: Well they betray their ethnicity
Me: Why should your ethnicity dictate your religion or vice versa? Isn't religion a matter of choice and conviction?
Expert Fulani: Yes, but there are certain things that indicate your level of commitment to your ethnicity, and if you're a true Fulani you would never even consider Christianity
Me: But the more educated we are, the more we experience other cultures and understand different peoples, the more we will embrace things that was against our culture years ago. I'm sure you know there was a time when a Fulani woman with a Masters degree from London was improbable and even considered wrong...
Expert Fulani: But religion is much more important than education.


Me: Did you choose to be a Muslim, or was it a family tradition you were born into and found yourself a part of, and you just didn't consider other options?
Expert Fulani: Of course Islam is part of our tradition, but I also know Islam is the truth. Being Fulani is completely linked with being a Muslim. A Fulani-Christian is an oxymoron.
Me: Why should this remain so?
Expert Fulani: Because it is the way it has always been, we like it this way. It is what makes us us.
Me: So a Fulani adult has no right to become a Christian?
Expert Fulani: Not if they love and honour their culture. Not if they respect their family. It is detestable to us and is against the Qur'an.
Me: So what about the few Christian Fulanis in Northern Nigeria who continue to drink Fura da Nono and speak Fulfude?
Expert Fulani: I doubt such people exist. And if they do they are detestable and will certainly not be allowed to live amongst other respectable Fulanis. A Muslim Fulani is the only true Fulani.


Me: Do you live in a hut?
Expert Fulani: No
Me: Do you herd cows?
Expert Fulani: Of course not
Me: Well that was the way the original Fulanis lived. They were nomadic and lived in temporary homes. So since you do none of those things, how can you call yourself a true Fulani?
Expert Fulani: Don't be silly. There's more to us than that.
Me: Really?
Expert Fulani: Of course. Our culture is more than herding cows. That's even an insult to confine our people to just been cow-herders. We are scientists, businessmen and politicians. Things have changed since we lived in huts.
Me: I agree. So don't you also think that things have changed since every Fulani was a Muslim? Cultures evolve and people change. This doesn't mean that one's ethnicity is less authentic, its just... different. Everyone is allowed to make what they will of their heritage. You can embrace it, reject it or adapt it to suit your situation, but you cannot live in exactly the same way your parents did.
Expert Fulani: But with religion it is different. Religion is our identity. It binds us together and makes us one. It dictates our education, marriages, laws and culture. It is the one thing that can never be compromised.


Me: I understand that being a Muslim is more than just a religion to you. But to say being a Muslim is the only authentic Fulani identity denies the ability of our culture to transcend religion, location and occupation.
Expert Fulani: I don't care to listen to what you're saying. Your western way of thinking has corrupted your view of your ethnicity. We are nothing without Islam. You are nothing without Islam. Christians are known for their wishy-washy religion, but for us Islam is the bedrock of our being and we will never become apostates. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Me: Well I am not. I am in a country that protects freedom of religion and freedom of speech. I may have remained a Muslim if I lived in Kaduna, but then I would not have extended my education, become a Journalist or expanded my knowledge of the world through reading, traveling and interacting with different people. The only shame here is that you believe that a people as noble, hospitable and beautiful as the Fulanis should remain so intolerant of other faiths. I always wonder at those that turn religion - an abstract, subjective thing - into an instrument of fear, hate and condemnation that weighs down, divides and ignores civility and simple humanity when it should transcend petty prejudices.
Expert Fulani: You're just being dramatic. That's not the issue here...
Me: Religious intolerance is exactly the issue here. I don't need your approval to embrace my ethnicity, and I suggest you leave judgements about the rightness of my beliefs to God.
Expert Fulani: Hm, may Allah lead you back to the truth
Me: And may the truth set you free.

My Life on Twitter and Other Issues

To borrow some words tweeted by former President Barack Obama from his former Twitter handle (@BarackObama) right after leaving office and thus his official @POTUS account: "Hi everybody! Is this thing still on?"

Former President Barack Obama's tweet just after he left office

I've been away for over a year, mostly because of some life-changing events that have kept me busy, but also because I hadn't felt that familiar nudge to blog; that insistent urge to publish a new post until now. 2016 was a tumultuous year, what with all the political upheavals of Brexit and President Trump and the numerous celebrity deaths. There has been a lot going on and a lot to become involved with on social media.

Now, I left Facebook seven years ago because I hated the boastful, preening, fakeness-inducing pressure of it all, where we're all tempted to perform pictorially for an audience of friends and strangers, where we are corralled into presenting the best of our lives for the acknowledgment and amusement of others, and where we are constrained into having certain opinions about certain things.

Amen

Facebook inspired 'Like' envy in me, made me desire people's comments and approval as if these things were important, and inspired a dissatisfaction about my life which would creep into my otherwise happy little existence because I saw other people's achievements. Vanity, covetousness and gossip were for me the fruits of all that wasted time spent looking through the lives of people I hadn't spoken to in years or barely spoke to ever at all, and I was loathe to imagine that people I barely knew were similarly rifling through my profile.

Twitter

Instagram was even worse: a domain for the vain (unless you were marketing your business perhaps). But I found my place on Twitter. It's focus on words expressed in a pithy and poignant way and thanks to the hashtag, broadcast-able to literally the whole world was exactly where an opinionated wordsmith like myself could luxuriate. Only your succinctly expressed thoughts mattered, not your photos, achievements or how much fun you were having. Twitter was more impersonal and for me safer. You didn't have to be popular and your utterings were not restricted to just your family and friends. Twitter to me was a more real, no holds-barred opportunity to engage with people precisely on the issues I felt most strongly about, and I didn't feel I had to perform.

I feel at home on Twitter

I was on Twitter incognito for years, mostly only retweeting and favouriting what I liked. Now I know that was because I didn't feel free enough to express all I had in me with people I actually knew as followers. But I was kept informed, amused and enlightened on Twitter and liked going through people's thoughts about breaking news and their reaction to certain TV programmes or movies to see if it matched mine. It was fun to share cultural highlights with the Twittersphere.

A few months ago I opened another account with an alias and didn't follow or have as followers people that knew me, and it was then that I felt free and truly able to speak without constraint. Not that I was saying anything vile or outlandish or contrary to who I was in the real world, only that I wanted the full gamut of my thoughts to flow without worrying about what so and so would think about the passion or the bent of my words. I could wax lyrical about politics or a celebrity without any blow-back.

But although Twitter was more suited to my social media needs, it was also an unfriendly place for a truth-believing Christian, traditionalist, anti-feminist, conservative-libertarian, non-PC woman like myself. Curiously, I found out (and suspected it to be the case beforehand) that being a black woman shielded me from much of the venom reserved for non-liberals on social media, so I always featured an avatar of my picture from afar or from behind so though you couldn't recognise me you could still tell I was black. This also gave me the power to criticise 'black' issues without being dismissed as a white racist.

Donald Trump

I noticed that the hot-button issues of politics, race and religion tended to interest me the most. Donald Trump's tumultuous presidency has been a subject I've spent a lot of time engaging with, and of course, with the man himself using Twitter daily, I have been endlessly fascinated with people's reactions to the tweets of this most unpresidential of Presidents.

It takes one to know one

At the beginning I enjoyed Trump's antiestablishmentarianism, but became increasingly horrified at the mean, uncouth, unrefined, shallow and egotistical unsophistication of the boastful billionaire. I was aghast when he won, and I'm often blindsided at his conduct thus far. I can barely watch him on TV, he's so noxious. I mostly support the party he (claims to) stand for, and I'm OK with Hillary Clinton not being President, but Trump as President is every bit as awful as I imagined. He's not a Christian by any stretch of the imagination (God forgive me for my brazen judgement if he is...) and it's sad that of all the Republicans that could have done a great job, (VP Mike Pence seems an upstanding fellow, a decent gentleman by all accounts) the world is stuck with a blowhard showoff that seems to be getting senile in his old age, what with his unending desire for praise, blatant lies, know-nothing-say-nothing speeches, obsession with size and self-aggrandisement, and his pitiful, poisonous rhetoric against the media.

I used to like his daughter Ivanka too. I praised her in an unrelated post I wrote long before I knew that one day her father would be the horror-in-chief, and although I still admire her gracefulness, sharp intellect and seemingly upstanding young family, I can't reconcile her approval of Trump and his ways with her obvious good sense, even if he is her father. I suppose that in her position I too could never throw my parent under the bus for the approval of people that hate him. Even if I do not like many of his ways, family loyalty has to be paramount. I think if I were in her shoes I would exile myself away from being part of his inner circle and cite some pressing need keeping me away, kinda like what his wife Melania seems to have done.

So Twitter provides me with endless updates on Trump and what people think of him. I follow both right-wing and left-wing commentators and it's interesting to hear both sides. I mostly side with liberals when it comes to Trump, but not when it comes to other weighty matters to do with women, religion and LGBT issues. It means I don't fit into a neat little box of your average Christian or conservative or Black person or woman. Plus my views are fluid and changeable.

Black Lives Matter

For instance, I was against Black Lives Matter as a movement for a long time because I felt that black Americans were not sufficiently respectful to the police and if they just obeyed instructions and weren't so hostile they won't be killed. But then some weeks ago I watched a movie by Ava DuVernay called 13th, about the systematic destruction of African-American communities by the state (from the Presidency to the judiciary) first with slavery then Jim Crow laws then the prison system. I mean, of course I knew of much of these things before, but the way it was presented in the movie got me to acknowledge the fact that if you know that your people continue to be targeted for suffering by all the establishments in your country, you'd be angry at the police too and feel aggrieved by their negative attentions, no matter how trivial.

This film really opened my eyes to the way America is set up to criminalise Blacks

I follow many African-American activists and non-activists on Twitter. I find them sharp-witted, blisteringly acute and hard-hitting in a way many white people shackled by political correctness are not, and many of the themes of family and culture they comment on are delightfully familiar to me. Black Twitter can be rip-roaringly hilarious, with clever memes and hashtags that often poke fun at mainstream culture, but they can also be quite iconoclastic and mean-spirited towards white people in a way that would be scandalous if the tables were turned. I also follow many Nigerians who keep me abreast of happenings in Nigeria.

Feminism

I'm also anti-feminist, I wrote much about it here. I believe white women have sold the idea that women must compete with men and usurp their God-given position, especially as the head of  the home, and black women have bought into it to our detriment leading to broken homes, many unmarried black women and single mothers. Black men are more likely to prefer traditional gender roles, yet most young black women are stridently independent and feminist-minded, leading to a disconnect that damages our communities.

Women still face harmful sexism, but many feminists are trying to make amends the wrong way by being intolerant and degrading of men. Feminism has also caused harm to Christian women who bristle at the injunction in the Bible for wives to submit to their husbands. Women that can successfully navigate their issues of self-worth, desire for love and obedience to scripture find true peace in their marriage. Women who demand equality in every way and deny their husbands headship do so at their peril.

Of course most people on Twitter are feminists, sympathetic to feminist ideals or reticent about their non-feminist thoughts. And although I wince at feminist views and follow some anti-feminists, this issue doesn't get me as engaged as others.

Islam

Islam; it's clash with western civilisations, the way uninformed non-Muslims view the religion and Muslim converts are matters that interest me greatly, often despite myself.

As a former Muslim familiar with the ideologies and intentions of Islam (I wrote about it here), and with the benefit of a spiritual awareness of Islam's foundations and goals, I don't buy the liberal line that Islam is a religion of peace, and although I'm not in total support of President Trump's banning of certain Muslims from coming to America, I agree that western nations need to protect themselves from the killings that have occurred on their shores in the name of Allah. I also agree that those who are able should take on refugees wherever they may come from, and refugees fleeing to America are very strictly vetted, but all Muslims brought up outside of the west (yes all) have a healthy disgust, distrust and disregard for Westerners, which makes one wonder why they do all they can to move to a country whose values they abhor.

LGBT

Then comes the hottest issue presently in our culture and one I find myself most drawn to. When it comes to the subject of the Bible, homosexuality and God, I don't toe the liberal line of "only love matters; whether it be between two men, two women or a man and a woman, God is pleased when Christians are in a healthy, monogamous, loving, long-term relationship with whoever they choose to love." I think that that way of thinking is not only sacrilegious and an abomination of all that is right and holy, but a gross misunderstanding of God. Love is not all that matters; sacrifice, obedience, justice and repentance is also a huge part of our walk with Christ. Not everything that we are is acceptable to God, and some of our temptations and natural urges are to be overcome with the help of the holy spirit.

Homosexuality is now a gift from God? Woe indeed.

God didn't make anyone gay, but a combination of upbringing, early sexual abuse, unchecked temptations and being led astray by others forms in some people the desire for same sex relationships, and then the enemy uses the opportunity to take root and bear the fruit of homosexuality in their lives, just as some people are prone to other harmful addictive behaviours. The wrong thing to do is to make your sin your identity instead of turning it over to God to heal you. If He doesn't take it away (Paul in the Bible had a lifetime struggle with an affliction God didn't take away), then you carry your cross daily and follow Jesus, striving for the goal ahead. A person who steals doesn't throw his hands up and say "Well I can't seem to stop stealing; I must have been born a thief. Let me get together with other thieves and revel in our propensities and force the church to recognise our thieving as our identity because God made us this way and condemn Christians who don't allow us to steal regularly as backwards and unloving."

No gay gene has been found; if it were then it should be possible for autopsies to reveal that the dead person was homosexual because of certain biological markers, just like it is possible to tell the age and gender of the deceased.

A gay Christian is not an oxymoron, there are proud, wife-beating, lying, fraudulent Christians too. But when your sexuality, or any aspect of your life that you insist on holding onto, separates you from the church, then that thing has become an idol. You're supposed to deny yourself and follow Christ. Churches that celebrate homosexuality are putting such 'identities' above God, which is an example of 'the pride of life' that ensnares.

As for transgenderism (I wrote about it in relation to Bruce Jenner here), I'm of the opinion that the root cause of gender dysmorphia is myriad and once that is identified and treated, most will desist from desiring to become the other sex, as indeed often happens with therapy. It's a disorder that should be treated rather than encouraged with surgery. God didn't make mistakes assigning sexes, but our minds can mess with us. I think it's the greatest scandal, a shocking turn of affairs, for men to surgically 'change' themselves into women and vice versa. One's sex should be as fixed as one's race, even more so in fact because it is completely biological. Of course the glaring truth is that despite surgery, a man will always be a man and a woman will always be a woman.

I despair at the way society has allowed these things to happen and how some Christians think it's OK to support it. It is not kindness to support someone in ruining their souls for eternity when we have the truth that will set them free. The trump card many put up is that gay or transgender kids will resort to suicide if they are not supported in their sin. But people kill themselves because of depression, rejection and other issues both weighty and trivial, and this in itself is not a reason to allow their errors to go unchecked.

Jesus was kind to the Prostitute but told her to "go and sin no more," and though he ate with Zacchaeus the chief tax collector, his unabashed holiness spurred Zacchaeus on to renounce his fraudulent ways. (Luke 19:1-10). Although Jesus didn't publicly condemn every sinner, he didn't help them to continue in their sin either.

Twitter Debates

My non-PC take on these issues have of course attracted interest and anger. I've had lengthy debates with atheists and gays and transgendered people, some have been civil but most have resulted in insults, all aimed at me from the other person. I make a point to always be polite and never fight fire with fire. I state my case firmly but never with any anger, hate or condescension. But it can be smarting when people hurl abuse at me, I once did a double-take at an insult: I couldn't believe it was aimed at me! But I have a pretty thick skin, I know it's not personal because they don't know me, and I actually feel sorry for the particularly mean ones as I wonder what kind of life they lead or how dark and pitiful their hearts and minds must be to come out with such bile.

I don't have many followers, but I'm not on Twitter to be popular. I'm there to speak the truth boldly and show others that there are still educated people who hold to God's word in this liberal age, and that one can disagree without being disagreeable. The Christians on Twitter with a large following are often the ones that tweet scripture and other niceties; they stay in their lane and don't get involved with tough issues. Others are virulently anti-liberal and their followers are equally engaged in a heated war or words with the other side.

Bold Christianity

It's tough for Christians to live out their faith online where our stance is mostly out of favour with modernity (truth is timeless and not subject to fads.) Everyone wants to be liked, but if we really understand our faith and want to stay true to it and engage online at the same time, we need to have the courage of our convictions and be ready to be criticised and insulted. It's not for everyone, but I feel called to do it and have the tools of my words, a deep knowledge of God's truth and the holy spirit to help me.

Pastors like Voddie Baucham have also encouraged my faith and further furnished me with wisdom from scripture, especially on the contentious issue of homosexuality. Right-wing social commentators on Twitter like Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins are also inspiring in their ability to state their case regardless of the backlash. I'd prefer they were less combative and incendiary sometimes, but I admire their chutzpah in our 'don't offend anyone' culture.

I would love my words to have an impact on people's lives and turn them to God, like Paul's letters does in the Bible. I always pray that I touch someone's heart or make someone think differently about things, as has happened to me many times on Twitter.