Cars here are relatively expensive, so a great many folk turn to the only available option--motorcycles. The most popular far and away seems to be the Jincheng AX 100. Day Longs also abound. These vehicles serve primarily a commercial role, as taxis. They swarm around the cars and trucks, pestering them like mosquitoes. They also contribute huge amounts of air pollution, belching more smoke than most 2 cycle engines. They also wreck frequently due to the erratic nature of the drivers and the “invisibility” that marks motorcycles everywhere in the world. Jamie saw two motorcycles collide head on. One of our hosts, Mariam, described an accident she had after having one pull out in front of her. The motorbike drivers all congregate around the car involved in the accident and immediately begin to verbally attack them, eventually forcing the car driver to make some kind of cash payment on the spot, regardless of fault.
Young men usually operate these vehicles; we saw only one woman driving a motorcycle in our entire month. We’ve seen all kinds of things carried on these motorbikes. Here’s our list:
2 men, both riding side-saddle facing opposite directions
Father, mother, and baby (strapped to mother’s back—even in the rain)
4 men
Bundles of firewood
1 man and 4 kids
10 gallons of water
A generator
8 foot sections of tin roofing
10 foot sections of pipe
20 feet of rebar
A large welding tank (most impressively it was not tied down, but balanced across the seat)
A grown sheep
4 mattresses (on one motorbike, carried on the passenger’s head)
A love seat
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
3 HIV + Women in Kano
On a visit to SWATCH (Support for Women and Teenage Children), a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO), we met three women, all HIV + and in their 30's. they told us how they were initially led to be tested for HIV:
Zuweira, a beautiful Muslim woman dressed in a red hijab and gorgeous, curly Henna tattoos on her hands. The soles of her feet and nails on fingers and toes were black with Henna. With a quiet voice and head bowed, she told us she was tested two years ago with her co-wife, Fatima, after their husband died unexpectedly. He was HIV-. Soon after his death, she began feeling sick and decided then, to be tested. When her results came back, she was HIV +, and in full-blown AIDS. She also had TB. She smiled with brilliantly white teeth and said she is healthy now, taking ARV (anti-retroviral) medications. She is remarried to her current husband who is also HIV+. Their children are HIV-.
Fatima was tested 2 years ago after her husband was sick with hemmoroids, which led him to be tested for HIV. He tested positive. After his death, she married Zuweira's husband and their children are also negative. She is taking ARV's with few side effects. She and her husband are healthy and doing well.
Aisha, a Christian woman, was tested three years ago. She had been feeling sick, but her primary reason for getting tested was that her previous husband's second wife was HIV+. Her children are HIV-, and she is also taking ARV's.
All three women have lost their 1st husbands to HIV/AIDS and are married currently to people who are also HIV+. In Nigeria, HIV+ people are encouraged to meet and marry, and match-making is sometimes a service that HIV/AIDS NGO's provide.
Although ARV's are free in most areas of Nigeria, the biggest barrier to living healthfully with HIV that I have learned from nearly everyone I've met is their lack of potable water and adequate nutrition. Second to that is lack of empowerment of women to get outside the home and find employment to support their families, nutrition, and care.
These three beautiful women are lucky: they have love and support from their husbands (many times, Muslim men will leave their HIV+ wives), and their families. Times are changing in Nigeria. Many women entering polygamous relationships will ask the husband and wives to be tested for HIV.
Propoganda telling of HIV prevention, testing and compassion for those living with HIV/AIDS abounds. Stigma and discrimination are still the major barrier for people speaking out against transmission, or even telling of their own infection.
Nutrition must be a focus in Nigeria in order to get a handle on what is happening here. Sex and mother-to-child transmission are the two most common ways that HIV is spread. All mothers, regardless of HIV status are encouraged to breastfeed for the first six months of their childs' lives in order to arm them with the necessary immunities to combat the everyday challenges of life in Nigeria. HIV is second to infant mortality.
With the help of these women who speak to those who are infected and encourage others to be tested for HIV, and the countless others we've met who are training to be peer educators, somehow, this disease will be overcome.
Zuweira, a beautiful Muslim woman dressed in a red hijab and gorgeous, curly Henna tattoos on her hands. The soles of her feet and nails on fingers and toes were black with Henna. With a quiet voice and head bowed, she told us she was tested two years ago with her co-wife, Fatima, after their husband died unexpectedly. He was HIV-. Soon after his death, she began feeling sick and decided then, to be tested. When her results came back, she was HIV +, and in full-blown AIDS. She also had TB. She smiled with brilliantly white teeth and said she is healthy now, taking ARV (anti-retroviral) medications. She is remarried to her current husband who is also HIV+. Their children are HIV-.
Fatima was tested 2 years ago after her husband was sick with hemmoroids, which led him to be tested for HIV. He tested positive. After his death, she married Zuweira's husband and their children are also negative. She is taking ARV's with few side effects. She and her husband are healthy and doing well.
Aisha, a Christian woman, was tested three years ago. She had been feeling sick, but her primary reason for getting tested was that her previous husband's second wife was HIV+. Her children are HIV-, and she is also taking ARV's.
All three women have lost their 1st husbands to HIV/AIDS and are married currently to people who are also HIV+. In Nigeria, HIV+ people are encouraged to meet and marry, and match-making is sometimes a service that HIV/AIDS NGO's provide.
Although ARV's are free in most areas of Nigeria, the biggest barrier to living healthfully with HIV that I have learned from nearly everyone I've met is their lack of potable water and adequate nutrition. Second to that is lack of empowerment of women to get outside the home and find employment to support their families, nutrition, and care.
These three beautiful women are lucky: they have love and support from their husbands (many times, Muslim men will leave their HIV+ wives), and their families. Times are changing in Nigeria. Many women entering polygamous relationships will ask the husband and wives to be tested for HIV.
Propoganda telling of HIV prevention, testing and compassion for those living with HIV/AIDS abounds. Stigma and discrimination are still the major barrier for people speaking out against transmission, or even telling of their own infection.
Nutrition must be a focus in Nigeria in order to get a handle on what is happening here. Sex and mother-to-child transmission are the two most common ways that HIV is spread. All mothers, regardless of HIV status are encouraged to breastfeed for the first six months of their childs' lives in order to arm them with the necessary immunities to combat the everyday challenges of life in Nigeria. HIV is second to infant mortality.
With the help of these women who speak to those who are infected and encourage others to be tested for HIV, and the countless others we've met who are training to be peer educators, somehow, this disease will be overcome.
Friday, May 23, 2008
More food
Masa: a rice-meal based dough ball fried over flame in a cast iron muffin-tin. It is accompanied with a ginger and pepper spice mix.
Brukutu: Millet beer. We only heard about this one.
Akpu (also known as fufu): a cassava based mixture used like pounded yam or semovita. A variation on this is called amala. The cassava is boiled and turns black. Al Hajji Ibrahim, when someone described it to us exclaimed, ‘God forbid you should come across it.’ Although our reaction wasn’t that strong, it didn’t really suit our tastes.
Egusi: a stew to accompany pounded yam or semovita with greens and ‘melon seed’—roasted pumpkin seeds.
Pap: a millet-based custard that is often flavored with ginger and sugar.
We also in Kano came across ice cream on a stick. The price tag: $5! I guess in a nation where the electricity is off more than it’s on, ice cream is indeed a real luxury.
One of the items conspicuously absent from the Nigerian diet is cheese. We’ve not had a bit of it since being in the country. The explanation we got is that the Nigerian climate doesn’t really suit it. See palm wine below.
Brukutu: Millet beer. We only heard about this one.
Akpu (also known as fufu): a cassava based mixture used like pounded yam or semovita. A variation on this is called amala. The cassava is boiled and turns black. Al Hajji Ibrahim, when someone described it to us exclaimed, ‘God forbid you should come across it.’ Although our reaction wasn’t that strong, it didn’t really suit our tastes.
Egusi: a stew to accompany pounded yam or semovita with greens and ‘melon seed’—roasted pumpkin seeds.
Pap: a millet-based custard that is often flavored with ginger and sugar.
We also in Kano came across ice cream on a stick. The price tag: $5! I guess in a nation where the electricity is off more than it’s on, ice cream is indeed a real luxury.
One of the items conspicuously absent from the Nigerian diet is cheese. We’ve not had a bit of it since being in the country. The explanation we got is that the Nigerian climate doesn’t really suit it. See palm wine below.
She's big in Nigeria too
Country music is very popular in Nigeria. Lemmy Ijioma, the leader of the Nigerian team, told me on his visit to the US that he hosted a country music radio show and that he was looking for an album of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers duets. And yet I wasn’t prepared for just how many folks listen to it here. On our fourth day in Nigeria as we drove out to visit a school for deaf and blind students, the Reverend Father who was driving us threw in a Dolly Parton cd into his stereo with a huge grin on his face. At first, I thought he was doing this for our benefit, but I’m now convinced it was for his own enjoyment. It was a bit surreal, driving past yam hills, mud brick and thatch huts, and roaming goats to the sound of Dolly Parton singing about her Tennessee mountain home—just over the hill from my western NC home.
And then there was the visit to the Ahmadu Bello house. Bello was a traditional leader in the northern part of Nigeria who had become very active in post-independence Nigerian politics, only to be killed in the first coup attempt in 1966. The museum built to honor his life is built in front of a mosque and holds a hallowed mystique to it. As we made our way into the museum, out blared Waylon Jennings’ ‘Living on Tulsa Time.’
Stranger still was the drive from Gombe to Kano when our host pulled out a decades old bootleg copy of Dolly Parton’s Greatest Hits, which had spent most of its life exposed to the desert heat. It looped in the tape deck for three of the four hour drive, punctuating the scenery outside as the savannah gave way to the desert, farmers tilled the dry ground with bullocks, and Fulani boys tended their herds of cattle. The defining moment, however, might be when we were pulled over at a military check-point. Outside stood a Nigerian soldier armed with an AK-47 while inside Dolly Parton sang on ‘just like a butterfly.’
And then there was the visit to the Ahmadu Bello house. Bello was a traditional leader in the northern part of Nigeria who had become very active in post-independence Nigerian politics, only to be killed in the first coup attempt in 1966. The museum built to honor his life is built in front of a mosque and holds a hallowed mystique to it. As we made our way into the museum, out blared Waylon Jennings’ ‘Living on Tulsa Time.’
Stranger still was the drive from Gombe to Kano when our host pulled out a decades old bootleg copy of Dolly Parton’s Greatest Hits, which had spent most of its life exposed to the desert heat. It looped in the tape deck for three of the four hour drive, punctuating the scenery outside as the savannah gave way to the desert, farmers tilled the dry ground with bullocks, and Fulani boys tended their herds of cattle. The defining moment, however, might be when we were pulled over at a military check-point. Outside stood a Nigerian soldier armed with an AK-47 while inside Dolly Parton sang on ‘just like a butterfly.’
Sunday, May 18, 2008
uploading difficulty
We've tried and tried again to upload pictures, but unfortunately all the internet connections we've come across are too slow to do this. We will continue to post text. When we return we promise to upload lots of images to accompany the text, so keep coming back. We are shocked to realize we only have ten more days in Nigeria.
In the schools
In the last few weeks we’ve visited a good variety of schools: primary and secondary; locally funded, state funded, and federally funded; public and private; secular and religious; universities and polytechnics. Above all, the students’ respect for their teachers and their dedication to their work stand out. We’ve seen this clearly in the polytechnic-affiliated, well-funded model schools as well as the government schools with dirt floors and open roofs. Perhaps this stems from Nigerian society; hierarchy cements this culture—within the household, village, and tribe. Traditional chiefs and emirs still command great respect. So do teachers within the classroom.
The poverty of the nation also plays a role. We’ve been told by people of all ages that education represents the only hope for the Nigerian people. The consequences of living without it line the sides of the road in any town or village. And so the students apply themselves.
The other motivator—particularly in the government schools—is the lash. School officials mete out corporeal punishment on a regular basis, with principals, teachers, and prefects walking the grounds with switches and sticks in hand. This has perhaps shocked us the most, but most Nigerians see this as a means to a necessary end.
Students here, by and large, aim for quite high achievement. They want to be doctors, lawyers, and engineers. Their favorite subjects tend towards math and science—with a few history and literature classes sprinkled in. Top students attend tutorials in the evenings and on weekends.
Rote learning dominates, with lecture as the primary pedagogy. This owes, in part, to a dire shortage of books in all the schools—even the best ones. It also relates back to the great respect paid to authority, with teachers commanding the classroom. And yet students eagerly perform, begging with “Me, auntie” for the opportunity to write out the A, B, Cs on the board or to show the relationship between basic fractions.
Religious instruction also features prominently in the curriculum, with Muslim and Christian students separated to learn more about their own faiths with the object of teaching morality. Two of us observed a lesson for Christian students in a government school on the benefit of hard work and its connection to salvation.
Schools here, as in the United States, are under-funded, but Nigerian schools are chronically short-changed. When asked why this is so, most educators blame mismanagement. Funds ear-marked for schools rarely seem to reach their intended purpose. Students, teachers, and administrators seem to make the most of tough situations.
The poverty of the nation also plays a role. We’ve been told by people of all ages that education represents the only hope for the Nigerian people. The consequences of living without it line the sides of the road in any town or village. And so the students apply themselves.
The other motivator—particularly in the government schools—is the lash. School officials mete out corporeal punishment on a regular basis, with principals, teachers, and prefects walking the grounds with switches and sticks in hand. This has perhaps shocked us the most, but most Nigerians see this as a means to a necessary end.
Students here, by and large, aim for quite high achievement. They want to be doctors, lawyers, and engineers. Their favorite subjects tend towards math and science—with a few history and literature classes sprinkled in. Top students attend tutorials in the evenings and on weekends.
Rote learning dominates, with lecture as the primary pedagogy. This owes, in part, to a dire shortage of books in all the schools—even the best ones. It also relates back to the great respect paid to authority, with teachers commanding the classroom. And yet students eagerly perform, begging with “Me, auntie” for the opportunity to write out the A, B, Cs on the board or to show the relationship between basic fractions.
Religious instruction also features prominently in the curriculum, with Muslim and Christian students separated to learn more about their own faiths with the object of teaching morality. Two of us observed a lesson for Christian students in a government school on the benefit of hard work and its connection to salvation.
Schools here, as in the United States, are under-funded, but Nigerian schools are chronically short-changed. When asked why this is so, most educators blame mismanagement. Funds ear-marked for schools rarely seem to reach their intended purpose. Students, teachers, and administrators seem to make the most of tough situations.
In Farin Gida
In Farin Gida, we followed his majesty Yarak Jutus through narrow streets walled in by concrete, where goats rested in shade and dogs barked behind iron gates. Farin Gida is a village of seven thousand people consisting of five tribes. Most of the residents here are famers and ex-military personnel, whose small pensions hold them in poverty. I lagged behind the others and talked with Sunday Kalmik, the thirty year old Youth President of the neighborhood, about the challenges his community faced.
Like most young Nigerians, Sunday follows politics closely, works hard, and wants to serve his neighbors. And like most Nigerians, he faces many obstacles. Farin Gida lacks a public school; health clinic; and, most importantly, a clean, dependable source of water. Dr. Amina S. Abdullahi, a professor at Kaduna Polytechnic University, had invited us to see her club’s adopted project for the year, an ambitious project that would provide these basic necessities.
Dr. Abdullahi led us to the neighborhood’s only water source, a stagnant pool of creek water two hundred meters from Farin Gida’s perimeter. The creek delineated Kaduna North from the abutting county, and up close looked insubstantial. This creek, however, is the lifeline of Farin Gida. In the midday sun, small children carried buckets of water on their heads past us and up the barren hill to the village. In order to avoid the trash in the stream, villagers had bored a hole nearby.
I looked down into one of the bore holes. The water was the color of a thick chicken broth. Dr. Abdullahi walked up to me.
“If you brought your electronic microscope you would see millions of bacteria.”
She informed me that the project was being supported by partners in the United States, Germany, and Canada, but only 20% of the project was funded. I turned away and walked up the hill to look at the brick villagers had fashioned from the soil. The rest of our group study exchange remained behind to snap a few photos of the bore holes. Sunday joined me and we resumed our talk about our hopes and aspirations and promised to stay in touch.
Usman motioned for us to load up in the van and soon we were off, driving through the village in an air-conditioned van back to the conference center. The effect was surreal. I thought of all the problems that Farin Gida was up against. The problems seemed intractable. But communities are built on strengths and not weaknesses and Farin Gida has many strengths. Rotarians like Dr. Abdullahi are working hard to build upon the community’s resilient character and determination, which, in turn, forges a strong sense of agency in the process.
Before leaving the neighborhood, we passed a church with no walls or roof filled with men, women, and children dressed in their Sunday best, singing songs of faith and praise.
Like most young Nigerians, Sunday follows politics closely, works hard, and wants to serve his neighbors. And like most Nigerians, he faces many obstacles. Farin Gida lacks a public school; health clinic; and, most importantly, a clean, dependable source of water. Dr. Amina S. Abdullahi, a professor at Kaduna Polytechnic University, had invited us to see her club’s adopted project for the year, an ambitious project that would provide these basic necessities.
Dr. Abdullahi led us to the neighborhood’s only water source, a stagnant pool of creek water two hundred meters from Farin Gida’s perimeter. The creek delineated Kaduna North from the abutting county, and up close looked insubstantial. This creek, however, is the lifeline of Farin Gida. In the midday sun, small children carried buckets of water on their heads past us and up the barren hill to the village. In order to avoid the trash in the stream, villagers had bored a hole nearby.
I looked down into one of the bore holes. The water was the color of a thick chicken broth. Dr. Abdullahi walked up to me.
“If you brought your electronic microscope you would see millions of bacteria.”
She informed me that the project was being supported by partners in the United States, Germany, and Canada, but only 20% of the project was funded. I turned away and walked up the hill to look at the brick villagers had fashioned from the soil. The rest of our group study exchange remained behind to snap a few photos of the bore holes. Sunday joined me and we resumed our talk about our hopes and aspirations and promised to stay in touch.
Usman motioned for us to load up in the van and soon we were off, driving through the village in an air-conditioned van back to the conference center. The effect was surreal. I thought of all the problems that Farin Gida was up against. The problems seemed intractable. But communities are built on strengths and not weaknesses and Farin Gida has many strengths. Rotarians like Dr. Abdullahi are working hard to build upon the community’s resilient character and determination, which, in turn, forges a strong sense of agency in the process.
Before leaving the neighborhood, we passed a church with no walls or roof filled with men, women, and children dressed in their Sunday best, singing songs of faith and praise.
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