Anyone know how to bake chips?

The only -- only -- plain salted corn chips I could find in SA. $4.50 for
250g.

At least El Greengo is the "smooth one."

I'll be home for Christmas...

After six weeks here in SA, here’s what’s on my “to eat/do/experience list” in the U.S.:
-Grapefruit by the dozens
-Pure OJ. Not cut with apple, pear, or grape juice.
-Texmex
-Sandwiches: tuna fish sandwiches with dill relish and turkey with cheese and pickles
-Timed stoplights
-Being a passenger rather than a driver and getting to stare out the window
-Not paying for parking at every single place
-Football on the couch with other fans
-People and places with whom I have a long history

And here’s what I’m looking forward to coming back to:
-My balcony view across the valley, alternating enjoying the perfect weather and watching ferocious Joburg storms
-South African braais
-Al fresco dining culture
-Driving a manual
-New stories and people

Construction in Nigeria

I had a chat with a guy on a plane who was an Aussie working in construction in Nigeria. His project was for a Western group that was building this to Western building codes, which is a tall order. Some highlights from our conversation:
-Nigerians don't take care of any building. I had seen so many buildings that were obviously once nice but now decrepit that this was my assumption, and he confirmed it. Strange, because they will keep their cars sparkling, which is a Sisyphean task with Nigerian roads.
-Talking about bribes, he walked into the office of a Nigerian official one time and the official stuck out his hand. When this guy shook it, the Nigerian was annoyed -- he had expected an envelope with cash, not a handshake.
-He keeps 3 months of inventory (cement and other construction materials) on site because supply chains are so bad...
-...and part of the reason he has difficulty getting stuff is that everyone tries to pinch part of it on the way. Truck drivers will "break down" for a day or two and show up with what looks like a full load, but they really offloaded half of the high-quality goods and replaced them with cheap local stuff. His drivers would tell him they delivered X product when they had really given it to their brother, and somehow didn't think that he would cross-check the number of trucks he sent out with the number that arrived at the destination.
-He has to scrutinize closer near the end of a project because workers don't want the project to end; they know that as soon as it does, he leaves and so do all of the good jobs in the area.
-He has had >10 workers killed in 2 years leaving the compound because they just don't bother to look before they drive onto the road, and they get hit by trucks going by.

I always shake my head a little bit at some of these stories.  In general Nigerians are both smart and savvy; no one will get rich betting against them.  But there are also a lot of times where I see or hear things that seem so obvious, like not bothering to look for trucks before pulling out of a place where 9 of your colleagues have died, or not thinking that a foreman will check with the recipient of something to make sure his trucks delivered it.

Time in South Africa

Interpreting time here:
"Now" -- it should happen sometime
"Just now" -- it will probably happen in the next few hours
"Now now" -- OK, OK, I get the point, I'll do it here in a few minutes

Growth in SSA in 2011

What are the prospects for Sub-Saharan Africa in 2011, and where will the growth come from? Read a quick synopsis from the Economist.

Big thoughts

Most of what I post here is anthropology/travel guide type stuff -- run-ins with local customs, how people live, etc.

However, there have been more than a few "big thoughts" bouncing around in my head since coming over, some of which I have answers to and some of which I'm still mulling over. A few:
-Someone joked that I'm now an African-American. Does having more African experience than most of the U.S. "African-American" population make me deserving of the title? Am I am American-African?
-What is it that needs to change for someone to "go native"? Is it just a matter of time, or is it an actual conscious mindset shift?
-What are the pros/cons of an "asset-lite" life? What are the downsides of being able to move abroad as easily as I was? (A friend recently forwarded an article I had read a few years ago called Tribal Workers that, judging from it's #1 position in a Google search for the same name, made waves.)
-The pros/cons of South Africa's approach to race, namely the open labeling of people by both other people and by government and the very active affirmative action programs.

Too little of a bad thing is a bad thing

The good news: Christmas in South Africa hasn't been over-commercialized like it has been in the U.S.

The bad news: The calendar is the only thing alerting me to the approach of Christmas.

The weather here is beautiful, and I wasn't expecting "white Christmas" weather given the hemisphere. However, I wasn't prepared for the almost total lack of Christmas-ness. There is no Christmas music on the radio. There are limited Christmas decorations in a few stores.

There was a lot of anticipation of the 3 week winter vacation, but Christmas was just a small part of that. I'm not sure if Christmas has been subsumed by the long vacation or if I'm just not seeing it because I'm not seeing inside local homes.

I miss Christmas carols.

Die weerlig

When my roommate and I were debating between two apartments, one question we didn’t ask was, “which will be better for watching the storms?”

Joburg in the summer has pretty routine (every other day or so) storms in the afternoon/evening. I was in the office one afternoon when it started raining and a local said, “Usually it starts raining, then the lightning starts, and shortly after that comes the hail.” All of her predictions came true during the rest of our five minute conversation, and that was my introduction to Joburg storms. They are a lot like Texas storms in that they roll in, hit hard, and then usually leave. However, the lightning is awesome (in the true meaning of the word). Apparently Rwanda is NASA’s “lightning capital of the world,” but Joburg must have been in the running.

"Poep teen die donderweer," or literally "farting against the thunder," is an Afrikaans phrase for "attempting the impossible."

In Houston lightning usually accompanies rain and dark clouds, so you never get a great view of it and it is sporadic. Not so, here.  It’s like a cosmic artillery barrage – quick and constant, falling random places within a defined area. My roommate and I sat on our balcony for a bit watching tonight and taking some pictures -- fortunately we picked the better storm-viewing apartment anyway.

Security in Nigeria

I posted before about SA vs. Nigeria on crime – SA is more random and violent, Nigerian crime (pertaining to foreigners) is more targeted.

I got intermittent security reports from our security contractor while I was there. There seemed to be about a kidnapping every 2 weeks in Edo State, where I was. True to form, almost all were targeted – entering a house and kidnapping a popular pastor’s wife, for example. (Pastors can make good money here.) We had Mobile Police (police toting AK-47s) initially but ditched them because they made us stick out like a sore thumb. Shortly after I left someone at our client company was kidnapped. He was released after paying approximately half of the ransom initially demanded.

Things are heating up in part because of the elections, so in addition to normal crime politically fractious groups are now more active because they will get press and have influence.

Back to Nigeria

This past week I was back in Nigeria, but for a different project, around Lagos this time, and only for 4 days.

Average Nigerian street shop.

This time I actually experienced Lagos traffic. Previously all I did was go airport-hotel-airport, and it took max 2 hrs in traffic. This time I was actually driving in the suburbs of Lagos and to another town (Ibadan). It took me 30 min to get off the islands that make up downtown Lagos, and it took me 6 hrs one night to get back home when it would have been 1.5 hrs with no traffic. Oh, and we were going against prevailing traffic.

It’s not that bad, though, because staring out the window is fascinating. (Some video here.)  It seems that all of life happens on the roadside, whereas in the U.S. it’s set apart by the parking lot separating the street from the shopping center, and in SA it’s set apart by the security fence that rings the shopping complex. At night, open kerosene-fueled flames cast dim light on the dark bodies clogging the streets.

I just can’t describe how bad some roads are. Frequently the undulating packed dirt looks more like a dirtbike track than a street. The highway from Lagos to Ibadan is pretty decent, meaning not too many potholes, but there was a point that was touchy where we were trying to pass 18 wheelers that were weaving all over the road because they were dodging potholes at 80 km/h. That’s how they flip, and I’ve seen a decent number of flipped trucks during my time here.

I had a great driver named Tosin. I had him frequently before, so it was good to see him again. He’s very talkative, has an opinion on everything, and can talk his way into/out of anything. Between his smooth-talking Yoruba and the fact that I’m a white guy in business dress, we got all sorts of meetings we wouldn’t have been able to get had I been a different color or had a different driver.

Like before, I had mixed feelings when leaving. Basic living requires real work there, but the flip side is that the stories are endless.

Very typical religious billboard.  They are everywhere -- probably ~20% of billboards.

"And if you believe that, I have a Nigerian house to sell you"

A lot of places in Nigeria have "NOT FOR SALE" painted on the house or
wall. I asked why - usually it's the other way around -- and found
out that a lot of people run scams by selling houses they don't own.
Owners put up the signs to make people really investigate before
"buying" and giving the real owner a hassle. They find a house where
the owner is away or even bribe a housekeeper if it's occupied and
sell the house. Only later does the purchaser find out he doesn't own
the house. Someone will make a killing in title insurance.

No Spocks here

Nigerians are very animated people. It can take you aback at first, particularly when compounded by the sheer number of people and the fact that there is less personal space here. Everywhere you go there are a lot of people, all talking loudly and with big gestures. They also argue easily, almost like it’s a pastime, but rarely is it violent – usually when it gets violent it’s a mob deal and people die, it seems. I saw lots of arguments where guys were up in each others’ face, yelling away and waving there arms. If you saw this in the U.S. you would wait, expecting one person to throw a punch, but instead they just keep arguing until someone blinks.

This also means that checking in for a flight at an airport sometimes feels like doing battle, particularly at the Arik domestic terminal in Lagos. It can start orderly, but inevitably people get agitated as flight time nears – even though the flights are inevitably late – and then things get interesting. People start trying to cut, and they get yelled at, to which they just yell back, and then people start muscling this way and that. You end up with a crowd around the desk, with 10 people reaching over/around others to wave their tickets in the face of the check in guy, with everyone yelling at everyone else – including the check in guy yelling back at the customers who are yelling at him. The volume sometimes seems like it is somewhere between “rock concert” and “shuttle launch.”

Boxing out in basketball is great practice for Arik check-in counters, and I learned to always stand with my rolling suitcase about arm’s length to one side so as to maximize my “blocking area.”

A story that combines arguing and flying: a co-worker was on a flight that was delayed on the taxiway. A guy pulls out his phone and starts talking, and the flight attendant asks him to turn it off. He starts shouting at her that he should be able to use it, then the people around him shout at him to shut it off so they can take off. In the back of the flight, one guy asked another what the commotion was, and then they got in an argument over whether the guy in the front should or shouldn’t be allowed to use his phone. Most of the plane got involved in a heated and vocal argument, directly or indirectly, over this guy’s phone.

Religion in Nigeria, part 2

Joel Osteen has nothing on Nigerian preachers.

For those of you not familiar with Joel Osteen, he’s a pastor in Houston who is more self-help guru than teacher of the Bible. His book titles are things like “Your Best Life Now,” “Becoming a Better You,” etc. He himself is a brand, sort of like Lady Gaga. He’s frequently associated with what is called “name it and claim it” theology.

In Nigeria just about every church has a sign that goes something like: “House of Power and Blessing Ministries, 3rd District 6th Diocese, Apostles of God Rev. John and Jane Doe, Pastors.” The focus, at least of everything that is externally visible, is on claiming blessings and realizing the earthly wealth and success that surely we must get if we just believe hard enough because God loves us. There is a super popular daily devotional called Daily Manna that was in my hotel rooms with the Gideon Bible; every day is 95% inspiration and 5% selected Bible verses that are generic and positive.

Example:
“…See John 3:8: “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (NKJV). Note the words: “SO IS EVERYONE WHO IS BORN OF THE SPIRIT.” That means you are as mysterious as the wind! That means when men say, it is over with you, then will your new beginning spring forth! That means every exit from something is an entry into a better one for you. That means every loss is a gain in disguise for you! That means what others called a disappointment is an appointment with destiny concerning you. God will make you a mystery to yourself! God is ready to lift you beyond explanation, therefore get ready for gossips/critics because they would soon start talking about you! … No philosopher can philosophize how a slave boy (Joseph) became a sage (a wise man)! No mathematician can calculate how a scar is turned into a star! Your progress into destiny will defy the explanation of friends and will be a shocker to your foes! LIKE THE WIND, YOU CANNOT BE EXPLAINED! Look up to God! (FASTING CONTINUES)! …Open your mouth and declare aloud that you are a wonder, a sign and a mystery. Declare that you will make it in life and you will be celebrated. Declare that your tomorrow is a story of hope and your best days are just ahead.”

There is a Nigerian TV channel that is 24/7 big name inspirational preachers, including “Pastor Chris” who puts out Daily Manna.

My issue isn’t with what is explicit (there is a statement of how to become a Christian that is extremely simple but correct in as far as it goes) but with what is implicit: that the promises of “power” and “overcoming” and “God giving us what we need” that in the Bible are in reference to our earthly life. One need look no further than the fate of the disciples to see that this is no the case.

However, hope is a powerful thing, and these pastors frequently become very rich. Their success is seen not as hoarding wealth given for God’s ministry but as an example of what God can do for each person if you just believe harder (and give a little more)!

The emotional appeals full of spiritual warfare imagery have particular pull here because indigenous spiritualism is still very widespread. Benin City is actually a hotbed of it. There is still a head local “Oba” who is a bit like Queen Elizabeth -- most people don't strictly view him as their leader, but they still fear him to some degree and give weight to what he says.  In Lagos I went into a neighborhood where the two guards at the entrance had no guns and were in regular clothes. When I commented that it wasn’t great security my driver told me it was actually very good security because they were voodoo practitioners and that they couldn’t be killed with bullets. He really believed it, even though he had also separately said he was a Christian and talked very well about how many Nigerians claim to be Christians but don’t live it out.

At least I can get peas and asparagus

I did my first real grocery shop today in South Africa. I had made quick runs to get a few staples, but haven’t been home enough to cook.  I had two revelations while in the grocery store:
1) I haven’t cooked for myself in ~4 months thanks to Nigeria, and I’ve just plumb forgotten what it is that I like to cook.
2) Even if I could remember what I liked and the recipes, I would need to translate volumes (cups) to weights (grams)
2) I may have to find some new staple meals anyway, because prices and selection are different.

A long time ago a friend gave me a book that still makes me laugh every time I pick it up entitled, “Help! My apartment has a kitchen!” I think I need a book entitled, “Help! I can’t remember what I want to eat!”

As for availability:
-Applesauce? You’ll find two varieties, both sweetened, in the marinade section.
-Dill relish for tuna fish sandwiches? A new concept to the Pick n Pay worker, not to mention the fact that tuna is >$1/tin. The sign over the aisle listed “pickles” as one of 6 items in the aisle, but they only had 3 varieties of pickles, all whole, and they were outnumbered by the olive types.
-Broccoli? Not in three groceries I went to. My roommate finally found some.
-Bisquick or other baking mix? Nope – and no brownie mix, either, which I love to make. Looks like I will really be going from scratch.
-I can’t get 100% whole wheat bread, though I found something that is pretty brown.
-Out of ~3 meters of milk shelf space, there is only one option for skim milk.
-Tortillas are a specialty food and are ~$2.50 for 6. Ouch. I may be having “pita fajitas.”
-There’s no such thing as 100% OJ in this country as far as I can tell. You can find 100% juice, but OJ is always diluted with apple or pear juice. (I assume that’s because of local taste, but maybe because of citrus fruit costs here.)

Even the things you can find don’t always come the way you would expect.
-Ground beef doesn’t come in chubs, only the fresh butcher packs.
-There was plenty of butter, but it’s in 500g blocks. I’m not sure how they easily measure butter for recipes.
-Yogurt is about $1 for one of those individual cups, so you buy it by the kg.
-You can’t get straight corn on the cob. You can only get it in those sealed packs where they have cut off the ends and peeled them.
-Salmon steaks? ~$14 for 4, which isn’t hideous but is indicative of the surprisingly high cost of seafood. (C’mon, guys, SA has water on three sides.)

What will I be eating more of? Meat, for sure, since it is cheap and plentiful.

More than just an accent

One defining feature of many Nigerians is their facial scars. Lots of Nigerian tribes have symbolic or identifying scars that they give their kids at birth. The tradition is slowly dying (and is officially banned in Nigeria), as is apparent by the fact that the older a Nigerian was the more likely he was to have the scars. A minority have them, but I would say that around 25-30% of the people I saw had them.

Nigerians can quickly tell by the scars where someone is from. The most common seemed to be “whisker” patterns around the mouth or eyes, but there were some more elaborate – and bigger – scars. It was surprisingly hard to find a good picture of what I’m talking about on the internet.

Whether the majority see them as part of their heritage or resent the fact that they have them, I don’t know.  CNN had an article about the practice fairly recently that you can read here.

This is a good example of the facial scarring, though this is more extensive than any example I saw.

Back on the grid

Obviously I haven't been too active recently.  I finished up in Nigeria at the end of Oct and am now settling into work and life in Johannesburg.  The observations keep coming, but the time to write them down doesn't.

I'm going to keep posting as I can, both about Nigeria (writing out all the notes I have that haven't made it to the blog) and SA.  For small observations in the meantime, check out Twitter.

Real conversations, the encore

Phone call today to Kenya:
To receptionist: "Hi, can I speak with Mr. X?"
"He's not in." [She then proceeds to transfer me to his desk so that I can listen to his phone ring.]
[Phone transfers back to her after 10 rings]
"Hi, I know Mr. X isn't in, so do you have another number or an email address?"
"Just a minute." [Transfers me back to his desk, which she knows is empty and which obviously wasn't successful the first time]

What should Dangote do?

Here's a question for you: Aliko Dangote, a Nigerian on the Forbes Wealthiest 500 list and the wealthiest African*, can do just about anything with his money.  But what would help Nigeria most?

Let's assume he can either
a) continue business as usual, invest/grow his company, etc.
b) divest about half of his stake in his companies (worth about $1.25B) and distribute it evenly among all Nigerians.  Pretend there is no corruption/skimming in the distribution.  Each Nigerian would get about $8.33, and Dangote would still be worth >$1B.

If Dangote decided his aim was to help Nigerians as much as possible by doing one of the two above actions, which do you think would help average Nigerians more?

Some reading that is tangentially related to the question:
-Economist article on how international aid is not shifting to match where poverty is
-WSJ article on the philosophy of the world's richest man
-ABC news that has some good quotes pertaining to Africa
-An Economist article on progress toward the Millennium Development Goals

Of course, there is a middle ground that is growing: social entrepreneurship.  I'll give a plug for Tegu, one such company.

*Why the asterisk?  Dangote is the wealthiest African who can show all his money.  It is accepted wisdom that former rulers embezzled billions.  By one count, $400B in oil money has been embezzled since Nigerian independence in 1960.  Today on the radio there was a news item about a former state governor who embezzled $292 million during his time in office.  It is widely assumed that Ibrahim Babangida, a former president (usually called "IBB") who is running to be president again in 2011, stole much of the $12B that disappeared during his time in office.  It would be unbelievable fraud anywhere, but is particularly egregious against the backdrop of average Nigerian life.

Nigerian newspapers, part 2

I have a few comments as follow-up to my previous article on newspapers.   Newspapers here are big and dense.  I’m not sure what the average article length is, but I would guess it is at least double the U.S. average. There isn’t a strict separation between news and opinion.  Articles tend to bury what could be a good news article under melodramatic stories; the article ends without digging into the next layer.  Writing styles seem to favor a Dickensonian verboseness, and the lofty vocabulary sometimes makes me think of a poor writer who dresses up a piece by using a thesaurus to upgrade most words.  After sorting through the stories and the lofty syntax, you frequently find very little news underneath. Here is a good example.

Ads are much more personality-driven.  Many ads have pictures of the company head, and many are posed as interviews with the head of a company about their background and extraordinary success.  Not sure if this is someone's ego coming out, if there is just more cult of personality around here, or if it is a reflection of the more relationship-based business world.

I’m also amazed by the amount of print produced.  The newspapers are all dense, and everyone prints something.  Two people in my small client office have self-published books or pamphlets.  Every organization has a newsletter or magazine.  My client produces a monthly 30-page company newspaper of incredibly dense 10-pt font.  A lot of the articles are “so and so had a meeting with such and such commission or bigwig” that quote each person’s pre-written niceties.

The latest one did have this gem, though.  They had a humor page, and they highlighted the Duggars from the U.S.

From an American perspective, perhaps the most entertaining part is that the Duggars would be highlighted in a section entitled "Something Queer."

Discrimination within Nigeria trumps that without?

Interesting comment in response to a Nigerian newspaper article titled Racial discrimination in the UK made me return to work here:

"Does this guy know that many Nigerians are treated better outside Nigeria than in Nigeria,if he cannot stand Racism,what will he say about the tribalism,nepotism and cronyism that is deeply rooted in the Yoruba? is it because he faced a little discrimination in UK that he is shouting,does he know how many Nigerians are denied opportunity because of ethnicity? pls let us at times think well before we talk,tribalism in Nigeria is worse than Racism anywhere"

As a side note, the headline is very misleading.  There are exactly two sentences about UK discrimination in the article.

Night on the town in Benin City

Three weeks ago (yes, I'm behind) my Nigerian colleague rolled off the project.  We had to go out and celebrate, of course.

Time Out is a bar/music venue.  The whole thing is outside under a canopy, which is very common.  Two guys had a food stand that sold two items.  One was peppered grilled meat chunks and onions, served in newspaper.  The other was ramen and fried egg – you chose a flavor of ramen packet and they cooked it with a fried egg on top.

Everything is better with a fried egg.

We just enjoyed ourselves and talked for a while.  A live band started at 9 that played something close to reggae.  We enjoyed it in the background and didn’t think much of it until we heard the singer/emcee give a shout out to our colleague by name; our drivers, who were having a drink at a table nearby, had called over the guy and asked him to do it.  It was fun and was a nice gesture by them.  My colleague didn’t notice it when it happened, so later the emcee did it again, this time saying, “This goes out to [colleague] from the UK!” even though he is Nigerian.  He wandered by our table and one of the clients who was with us took a picture of the group with the emcee behind us.  So far, so good.

We were a fun table and stuck out since we had 3 white guys, and the emcee started to hang around more.  Several clients were with us, and he put a female client on the spot to sing a few lines into the mic, which was fun but we all then wanted him to go away so we could enjoy in peace.  By this time our table was the center of attention, which is not something we wanted.

The emcee’s next move was to go around and ask the three white guys where we were from.  While it was obvious we weren’t from Nigeria, there was something about stating it publicly that made us feel acutely exposed, particularly when coupled with the attention the emcee had brought.  At this point one of the client guys called the emcee over and told him to go away and not do that, and the emcee said he didn’t mean to offend – into the microphone.  However, he didn’t go away until the guy gave him a tip to scram.  With the spotlight on us, we all looked at each other and knew it was time to leave, so that was the end of the night.

One of the clients has a theory that he really believes.  He says things are safe before 6pm (beginning of dusk) and after 9pm.  Why after 9pm?  “Because kidnappers are regular people, and after 9pm they all want to go and have a drink and have fun.”  I’m not sure if I should be reassured by my increased safety after 9pm or slightly disturbed that I may strike up a conversation at Time Out with a guy coming off a long day of kidnapping.

Lagos: Gateway to … Europe?

My Tunis trip highlights another oddity about Nigeria. Nigeria, and African cities in general, it seems, are very well connected… to Europe/Middle East. The flights there are better and more numerous than to the rest of Africa.

To get to Tunis, we had to connect through Paris. Our other connecting option was Cairo. This was a pain, but a bit nostalgic: I walked past a Terminal 2 café where my brother and I slept in the booths during an overnight layover in CDG once before.

I came expecting to bounce around central/western Africa quite a bit, but it is surprisingly difficult. From Lagos there are more direct flights to EU/ME than to other African countries. Even if a flight goes to where you want within Africa, you have to check the timetables because many flights do not fly every day. I have downloaded a good number of airline timetables. (It also tells you something about the size of the airlines, because that would be unthinkable for a large U.S. carrier).

It's like Oprah, James Carville, and a tracking device all in one person.  (Side note: Google the words "help find lost items" and you get some very weird results)

Visas are another difficulty. According to something I found on the internet, the only embassy in Benin City is Romanian, though I’m skeptical that even that exists. This means I have to be in Lagos or Benin to get a passport processed. I got a 2nd passport after my first month here and was ready to get a Ghanaian visa when I found out… that the Lagos consulate will only process visa requests for Nigerians. Very frustrating to have a great place that is nearby off limits.

I really like getting out of Benin City not necessarily because I don’t like what is here, but because I don’t have access to what I really want: the local experience. Life is surprisingly caged, mostly because of security hazards that don’t exist elsewhere. It’s better in Abuja, and of course much better outside of Nigeria.

Being in Benin City during the week, I find that I pick destinations for one (or both) of two reasons:
-Explore somewhere new/adventure
-Somewhere I can freely walk around outdoors and has a good gym/fresh food. I know, I’m demanding.

Tunis

Find a desert, add some people of Arab descent, give them French tendencies, and layer in a rich history all the way back to B.C. Where are you?  Possibly Tunis.

For me, one of the big attraction in Tunis was the doors.  Yes, the doors.  Go visit and your "huh?" will change to "ahhh..."

I headed to Tunis for a weekend recently and had a great time. I can definitely see a progression between Nigeria, Dakar, and Tunis. Tunis is strikingly French and Mediterranean feeling. Nigeria is most definitely not. Dakar is in between. They speak French, and there is some Mediterranean feel in the main palm-lined boulevard, but you don’t ever forget you are in Africa.

Another door.

Tunis is also home to the remains of Carthage. There isn’t much there anymore, but as I stood on amongst ruins looking out into the harbor, I couldn’t help but wonder what would be different if the Punic Wars had turned out differently.

I thoroughly enjoyed Tunis. The architecture that is exposed is what I would expect to find buried in layers on top of each other -- Roman ruins, old Arabic/Moorish souqs, more recent French Colonial stone buildings, and modern bland white/square block apartment complexes like you will find in the Middle East.

At the end of the first day we found ourselves near the main plaza (the Place d’Independence, which is also the name of the main square in Dakar). It is a wonderful place at night, and I thought that I was at a parallel-universe version of the Champes Elysee and Arc d’Triumpe. Lots of Tunisians sat on the rim of a large fountain in the middle of the central roundabout, watching the night. Couples and others were strolling down a wide, tree-lined boulevard lined with coffee shops. The night was crisp, and it was a perfect place to join some of the almost-all-male spectators and sit in the roundabout watching the procession. You could also watch the Tunisian traffic cops in almost comically French uniforms directing traffic with white-gloved hands, many with great mustaches.

The city is generally much cleaner than the other African cities, but not without its trash.

I have no words for this.

The people were friendly. One guy found us wandering in the wrong direction and walked with us for about 10 minutes until he got us to our destination. We instinctively were prepared to tip him, but he turned on his heel and walked off without hesitation, obviously not expecting a tip. We had a basic conversation in English, and I suspect his motivation was a combination of friendliness and a chance to exercise his English.

If the strolling people at night were strongly male-dominated, the market offerings were not. We spent part of a morning wandering the narrow alleys of a market. It was a very Arab market and I enjoyed the walk. We started off in an area obviously patronized by locals, because the shops sold basic kitchen goods, clothes, etc. What struck me most was 99% of the clothes were for girls. I recall one or two stalls selling t-shirts and polos for men, but otherwise it was stall after stall of girls’ clothing, with lots of tight jeans on slim plastic hips.

We ended in a tourist area, and I got to sit outside a shop while my colleague went looking for something. I decided that owning a stall in an Arab market has some great perks: there is usually a good banter between shop owners when not busy, and they get to watch a mix of people all day long.

Tunisian cafe.  Everyone gathered to watch the football game and enjoy a shisha.

It was then off to the Bardo Museum, which is full of mosaics. When I say “full,” I mean that all of the floors are lined with them in addition to all of the walls in this three-story building covered in them. I really like mosaics, so this was great. They were mostly floor mosaics, so many had more pattern than story (in contrast to ceiling mosaics in Byzantine churches).

Yet another door, this one to Oz!

We also burned part of an afternoon at a café. All of the chairs were oriented toward the TV once the soccer game came on. People smoked cigarettes and shisha and talked as if the day would never end. One thing I noted both here and at the cafes on the main boulevard was that no one was on an iPhone, blackberry, computer, etc. Anyone who was alone at a table was either reading or just watching the crowd. The weather was perfect, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed sitting around at cafes that much since Vienna.

The only downside to the city was that smoking is allowed everywhere, including inside the airport and in the hotels.

Tunis is a steal. I was surprised since I would assume the many European tourists would make things more expensive than they were. A taxi cost 0.03 dinars for 1/10 km. That’s about $0.32 per mile. Contrast that with Germany, where a taxi cost $4.80/mile. Then again, there are no Benz taxis in Tunis.

Overall, I would definitely go back to Tunis for a relaxing weekend with some history. I would also like to drive deeper into Tunisia to explore the Berber areas.

 One more door as a bonus for reading this whole entry.

The foundation for corruption

From some team room talk this week I got a few more examples of Nigerian government and tribal politics. One person recounted a story from Edo state where a market had burned down. The administrative head of the area wanted it rebuilt in a different area where there were more of his tribe in order to bring the wealth that way. From a business standpoint it didn’t make much sense as there were not as many customers and it was not as well connected. The administrator built a shopping center and offered everyone who moved a free place initially and about $1000. Everyone moved there for about three months in order to claim the money, and then moved back when the repairs to the original center were completed.

You can’t run for certain state government positions here unless you were born in the state. I think a lot of this is linked to a general dislike for non-locals moving in. This may be some regionalism/tribalism, but it is also economics: the majority of state revenues are disbursements from the federal government, so more people in a state means the money doesn’t go as far. I assume that the money is reapportioned periodically by census, but this doesn’t change short-term disparities and no one believes the census count. (Wikipedia, if I remember correctly, has a whole paragraph devoted to the differing counts of the number of people in Lagos.)

Read about Nigeria in the newspaper, both from within the country and from without, and you can’t escape the political patronage. Everyone acknowledges and dislikes the system, but it is self-enforcing – when people get political power, it is “their turn.”

I tend to think that one key problem is that everyone wants to be a politician. Politics pays better than almost any other profession, and not just from corruption – I’ve been told that Nigerian senators make more than U.S. senators, and that in a country where 40% of the population doesn’t have electricity to speak of. When being a politician is that attractive, a lot of people go into politics for themselves, not for altruism.

Again, I heartily recommend the Financial Times report on Nigeria at 50 and the McKinsey report on Africa as primers.

It's the little things

Actual phone conversation this morning at my hotel at 6:10am.

“Hello, sir.”
“Yes?”
“Can I bring your laundry now?”
“Please bring it at 6:30 like I wrote on the paper.”
“Hello, sir.” [This means, “I don’t understand, so I’m hitting restart”]
“Yes?”
“I want to bring your laundry now.”
“NO, please bring it at 6:30, which is what I wrote on the sheet.”
“OK sir.”

I didn't manage to snap this in time, but it had a bumper sticker that read "Pimp My Ride Naija"

Pictographs did me no good

Attached are two bathroom signs. Take a look and then guess which is the guy’s and which is the girl’s.  Hopefully you did a better job than I did originally.

Here in Nigeria, lots of women wear this head gear that looks like a male peacock tail – a hat that fans out in the back. At the airport one time I took a look at the first door I came to, decided that it was depicting someone wearing that, and then went into the other room. My head told me with 80% confidence that I had chosen correctly, but my gut wasn’t as sure.

After I had left (without encountering anyone) I watched a guy enter the other door. Oops.

Next time I follow the almost universal rule of thumb: if there are no urinals, it’s not a guy’s room.

A newly international economy and the second oldest profession

In describing hotels I mentioned a second bar at the Sheraton Abuja. Only two types of men enter the Elephant Bar: the clueless newbie and the man looking to buy some female company. There is a bathroom right around the corner, and there is a constant stream of ladies going in/out to touch up their lipstick or whatever else.

Bad camera photo, but this is luggage for one one Nigerian.

You would be surprised how many find work. You can watch them leave, usually in the company of graying, partially balding older white guy with a bit of a gut. It ties into something that I see around more than I thought, and which is both fascinating and a bit disgusting. I see a good number of white guys of the same ilk with significantly younger black girls in tow that are obviously more than one night squeezes. They could be married, but I highly doubt it in most cases. I think it’s a classic mistress case; she certainly isn’t with the guy for his looks most of the time, so it has to be the money and the chance to get out of the country a bit. The best place to see this is at airports, watching young, tall, trim black girls pull their matching Louis Vuitton bags behind their men. Most of guys look European.

There is a fair contingent of unattached, salty oil roughnecks who work in Nigeria for prolonged periods, get paid very well, and have nothing to do around here. Maybe this accounts for some of it. I’m assuming I have a fairly good grasp the typical girl’s story, but the guys are more puzzling.

Hasta ... un tiempo muy largo

In case this wasn’t already obvious to some people back home, staying in touch from Benin City is more difficult than I anticipated. In order to make a call back home three things must align:
1) Time zones – I am 5 hours ahead of ET
2) Good internet connection (3G)
3) My availability

#1 means that during the week I can’t really make any calls to anyone working in the U.S. until after 10pm Nigeria. #2 means that about 75% of the weeknights are out. #3 means that about 66% of weekend nights are out between nights spent on planes and getting back late (or sleeping off the night on the plane).

Phone service is also consistently bad. About 30% of my local calls go through, and sometimes there are several hours with no phone service. I think it is my particular carrier (Zain) in Benin City. Things are better in Abuja or Lagos.

I need some help

I will finally ask a question that has bugged me for at least 5 years.
I've pondered it and made speculations, but I cannot come up with the
definitive answer without an awkward question. So I will ask my blog
audience, which is much less awkward.

Drumroll, please: what do most Europeans and Africans use to wash
themselves on the road? Most European and African hotels don't have
wash clothes. I would assume no one travels with a loofah, and
definitely not over here. What's left? A good hand lather and rinse?

I must admit I've put much less thought into much more serious things.

Happy(?) 50th anniversary, Nigeria

As noted previously, this past Friday was the 50th anniversary of Nigeria gained self-rule from Britain. The Financial Times had a great 20-odd page special on Nigeria at 50, which I highly recommend. It gives a very good overview of the politics and the current election, problems with the power grid, the oil and mobile phone economies, etc., all with better research than I have access to.

I had already planned a trip to Munich when I found out, and I considered canceling my trip to stick around and see the celebrations. However, I asked around and found out it wasn’t a big deal. Only one person I talked to planned to go to any events that day, and they were going to a church event. The general apathy was striking.

When I asked why, I got a lot of answers along the lines of, “what do we have to show for 50 years?” This was a common theme in newspapers, too. Columnists openly questioned whether Nigeria has moved forward as much as was anticipated 50 years ago.

I’ve talked about Nigerian optimism, and some of these same comments came from people that I thought of as generally patriotic/optimistic about Nigeria. Perhaps the answer may lie in a more nuanced view. People are optimistic about Nigeria’s people, its resources, and its economic opportunities. But everyone recognizes that government is currently a drag, not an enabler. The 50th anniversary is seen as a political anniversary and closely tied to the government, and no one thinks the government is doing a good job. I suspect that if there were some private celebration of economic progress and power, it would be much better subscribed.

One event served to highlight lingering political problems rather than progress. There were several car bombings in Abuja (the capital) very near the hub of the celebrations, and 7 or 8 people were killed. A Delta independence movement claimed responsibility.

Happy 50th, Nigeria!

Today marks the 50th anniversary of Nigerian independence from
Britain. Congrats to all Nigerians out there.

Abuja is so packed that two of my colleagues had to share a room last
night because everything was full.

It wasn't totally smooth, though. There were reports of a small
explosion and some gunshots in Abuja's main plaza.

More on Nigerian reactions soon.

The places I call home

“What,” you ask, “are the African hotels like?”  Answer: it depends.

I currently only have a few data points: Sheraton Lagos, Southern Sun Lagos, Sheraton Abuja, Sage Hotel in Benin City, Sheraton Tunis, and Le Meridien in Dakar.  You realize if you haven’t already that hotel stay quality is a combination of two factors: the physical hotel and the service.  The hotels aren’t amazing, but the service is where things break down.

None of you will probably read through this whole thing.  This goes back in part to my initial entries: most of the reason I write this is for my own archive, and you all get to look over my shoulder.  Sorry for the tome.

As for the physical hotels:

The Sheraton Lagos I've only seen at night because I stay there when connecting from Joburg.  The rooms snug but not London-tiny.  The hotel is dated in style, and the low ceiling in the entrance makes it feel a bit cramped, but it’s not too bad.  The rooms probably got a makeover about 2000 I would guess.  The one thing I can say is that their accounting system is a blast from the past.  They have to have a piece of paper from you, which they staple to a bill.  Also -- this is true everywhere -- you have to actually go to the front desk and check out, which I haven't done in the States in years.  Smoking is allowed in the lobby, with the expected results.

Sheraton Abuja was my home away from home for the first few weekends.  They are renovating the rooms in waves and I've seen people shudder when talking about the old ones.  So far my rooms have been nice and big and with good natural light, but they didn't renovate three key things: the bed, the bathrooms, and the A/C.  The bed seems like the first thing you fix, but they decided to put in fake hardwood floors instead.  As a result, the bed is almost as hard as the floor.  The bathrooms are basic white tile with poor workmanship, and the showers pulse hot and cold water – taking a shower is like playing hokey pokey.  As for the A/C, your room usually stays an OK temperature (~70 F), but the A/C does a poor job of dehumidifying.  Nice furniture otherwise, small (20"?) CRT TV.

The hotel is a big complex, which is nice because you have space and it is a bit peaceful despite being in the city.  There are three restaurant options (buffet with changing international theme, decent Italian, and a steakhouse that advertises its “unique American Cowboy” ambience), a small casino, squash and tennis courts, a club that locals come to, a lobby bar, and another bar.  Everything is old except the renovated rooms, though.  When you walk into the gym you would be forgiven for thinking the equipment has been thrown in there waiting for a garage sale, because it is closely packed and old.

Sage Benin City is my home base and is a shining testament to style over substance.  It only has 40 rooms or so.  The rooms are spacious enough and have essentially IKEA furniture – nice-looking birch, but cheap.  The bathrooms are not nice (basic dirty white tile, no attempt made to spruce it up) but that is different from not being decent.  The rooms all vary, and I specifically ask for two rooms I’ve found that have good sink lighting.  The A/C is the most effective of any of the hotels.  I have yet to have a room without ants, but they are the small kind and are content to scurry around the coffee supplies – for the sugar, I’m sure.  I had a bed one time where I found fleas, and from some red dots I suspect I have bedded with them several more times without actually seeing them.

Sage has a bar downstairs and most of the (African) guests like to hang out in there or next to the pool and drink and talk late, so the music is moderately loud till late.  The place is a very popular night spot on Thursdays, when locals also join.  As for food, I’m not sure which is worse: that there is a very limited selection or that it pretty bad.  They recently changed the limited menu to cut a few things and basically double the price on a lot of other things.

Neither of the treadmills in the gym have worked for a month or so.  It does have one of those multi-use machines, but the fly and leg machines are very sticky.

Despite all of this, Sage still feels like my proxy home.

Southern Sun Lagos is refreshing.  I found myself accidentally drinking tap water one night because I forgot I was in Nigeria.  The hotel architecture/materials legitimately deserve praise.  The gym is spacious and with nice equipment.  They have a buffet that is great, and truly stellar compared to the competition.  Part of its relative niceness can be attributed to the fact that it is the newest hotel of the bunch.  Like the Sheraton Lagos, I’ve only stayed over night while transferring.  It’s certainly the nicer hotel, but the Sheraton is significantly closer to the airport (10 min vs. about 30).

The Le Meridien President in Dakar is not as nice as the Sun, but very close and a great place for a weekend retreat.  It has a grand lobby with four marble pillars anchoring the six-floor atrium entrance.  It is situated right on the Atlantic coast at a bend, so it looks out on the ocean on two of the four sides.  Like the Sheraton Abuja, it has a bit of a footprint and room to roam.  It was a 20 min drive into Dakar city center, but the distance also meant it was tranquil.  My room was great by any measure.  Great, well-lit bathroom, good bed, nice furnishings, and a design that was somewhat modern without being minimalist.  The best part of my room, however, was the balcony, where I could watch the sun set from the fourth floor and listen to the waves exhaust themselves on the coast.  I spent plenty of time there.

My living/dining room in Dakar.  Now I just need some visitors.

While I think all of the above would be true of about any room there, mine did have a twist: I got a big suite, so my room had a second bathroom for guests, a living room, a dining room with an 8-person dinner table, huge display of fresh flowers, and a little area of mostly wasted space off the side with the mini bar.  All told it was probably 1200 sq ft.  I hardly used the extra space because my bedroom was big enough.

The Sheraton Tunis was slightly below the Le Meridien.  It had a great vantage point over the city.  The rooms were nice but nothing amazing.  The nice touch was that each had a balcony, just like the Le Meridien.  The pools (indoor and outdoor) and water features were outstanding, and the gym was also great except for the absence of free weights.  The restaurants and food were nice, except that smoking was permitted almost everywhere (which is the same as the rest of the country – you can smoke in the airport, for example).

One item that cuts across all of them except the Southern Sun and Sheraton Tunis is poor fit and finish.  It looks like they don’t bother to tape before they paint, caulk in bathrooms is poorly applied, etc.  Even if someone designs a great building, African construction seems to dictate that it will be like a nice façade on barn.

Service:

Service in Nigeria is definitely the most frustrating part of hotel life here.  When I first got here I had a conversation with my Nigerian colleague and in the process he mentioned that there is some stigma to serving someone because the cultural implication is that the other person is better.  I can’t speak to the cause, but the effect is certainly visible.

Part of it probably comes from never having experienced a hotel with good service themselves.  The Nigerians who work at a hotel are never going to stay in a good hotel for comparison purposes.  However, this doesn’t excuse the fact that service is mind-numbingly slow.  You expect to follow up on anything at least once before it is done.  This usually has to be done in person because both I and they usually have trouble understanding each other on the phone.

Workers also can't process anything out of the ordinary.  If you try to customize anything you see the guy's brain circuits frying.  This is most applicable to restaurants, such as asking for a side dish other than the default.

I will say that at the Sage, where service is the worst, the manager is a South African and he's there most of the time and zealously wants good customer service.  He’s great to lean on, and he is slowly building up the clueless staff and instituting good practices.  I will also say that I think smiling and saying hi to everyone day in and day out has meant that people like me, making them more willing to help out.

Service is best at the Southern Sun, where they have done a good job all the way around.

Service was much better in Dakar and Tunis than the Nigerian average.  Not sure how much of this is cultural and how much is tied to the fact that Dakar/Tunis have more experience with tourists and the hotels are just nicer.  There could be another factor: hotels in Lagos/Abuja are always full, so there isn’t a real need to provide great service because your hotel will be full provided it meets minimum Western standards of cleanliness.

Addendum:
A Four Points by Sheraton just opened in Lagos, and it was immediately completely full.

"So, how 'bout that weather?"

They say that two people who have nothing to talk about always have the weather. I am going to devote an entire entry to this much maligned subject.

The weather here is better than I anticipated, mostly because it feels cooler than I expected. It is certainly hot and humid, but does not seem as bad as Houston.

Victim of the a flood-filled pothole.

Solid cloud cover almost every day helps the coolness. Recently the cloud cover has been so low that flights were canceled because the planes cannot land in Benin City. The confluence of winds from the Sahara in the north and the Atlantic to the southwest means lots of atmospheric turmoil. It also means afternoon showers about every other day.

It has rained harder some days and some days have been dry, but I would be willing to bet on rain about every other day. The tin roof on the building I’m working in accentuates the sound of the rain, so a small shower sounds like a deadly hailstorm and a real hailstorm would likely sound like the apocalypse.

The cloudy sky also means that when the rains have finished for the day and the sun is starting to sink, a break in the clouds can mean a beautiful sunset. Bits of sunset coloring ricochet through the holes in the cloud cover. This, combined with the end of the daily rain showers, give a feeling that there is again peace in the world after the dark and dreary rain.

We were ready to say "I told you so" as soon as the engine stopped, but we made it through -- despite the water sloshing against the doors.

The routine rain and the nearly complete lack of drainage in the city mean that puddles in the road should be given names. This is because they approximate the size of lakes and never fully disappear. I have never seen the bottom of a certain pothole that we must cross every day leaving my hotel; it covers the entire road, is about a foot deep in spots, and has shrunk at times but has always been replenished by rains before drying up.

Dakar: the sights

In no particular order:
One of my first experiences was getting on to the elevator Friday evening with two guys in traditional African dress. One whipped out a cell phone camera while the other threw his arm around me, then they swapped. Um, sure, I guess so. They must have really wanted the picture, too, because I was coming from a run and was nice and nasty.

The TV selection was informative. French TV, as you might imagine, plus the staples like CNN and S1-3 (the sports channels over here). There was also Al-Jazeera and some Saudi station. (While flipping through I saw an ad for “Live Free or Die Hard” advertised just “Die Hard 4.” Intentional?) I did not see the Christian televangelist channel that’s always on in Nigeria. One of the French channels was anime dubbed over in French, which I found very funny. 

Beautiful sunset over the rocky coast.

While running on a treadmill I saw an Old El Paso taco seasoning ad. It was a good motivator for my run.

Dinner my first night was grilled fish and chips. It was like Nigeria – whole fish – but seasoned instead of sauced, and I liked it better. In Nigeria they give you a bowl of water and you eat the fish with your hands. There was no bowl here, so I proceeded with fork/knife, which is much harder.

I went through a food market that was very local. Lots of stalls of fresh veggies/fruit lying everywhere with hordes of flies. In the inner circles was the meat market. It looked mostly shut for the day, because there were only a few slabs of meat lying out (no ice or anything, many more flies) and there were fish and shrimp heads all over the floor.

Guess what I found?

For lunch on Saturday I popped into a shop to get a schwarma lunch. I changed to a burger since that’s what everyone else was getting, and this was not a traditional American burger. It was on a fluffy dinner roll, with one half mashed in and filled with mayo. The fries were put directly on the burger and lathered in ketchup, and then the meat and a fried egg were added. The guy added extra oil to the griddle halfway through because it obviously wasn’t greasy enough. The bill: $2

As I was driving I saw an imam teaching really young kids under a palm tree. In some places the kids are given to the imam and must beg for their own food. Not sure if that’s what this was, but they weren’t dressed too well.

Goree Island was a highlight. The official attraction is a slave house where a lot of slaves are said by some to have been held before being shipped to the New World. There is a lot of controversy over just how many came through here, and one guy really just pushed hard enough and loud enough to make it a tourist attraction and now it is a UNESCO site. After seeing it, I tend to side with those who think the number was on the small end if for no other reason than the place is really small.

 Life out in the open.

The highlight for me, however, was life on the island. It’s small – maybe 1km long and 0.5 km wide. In most places, people live in one place and work in another, and tourists rarely go into living areas. This island is so small that life is lived in the open (plus the heat probably makes the indoors unbearable). The colors were vibrant: houses painted red and green stood against the blue ocean and sky, dark people contrasted with white sand. Dirt here seemed to enhance the character rather than drown it. I had left my big camera, and this was probably the single place in my journeys where I wanted it most. Kids play in the streets, the whole island turned out for the community soccer game in the square, some teens sat on a corner playing the guitar and singing. Because of the number of tourists who come here, I had “cover” to sit in back alleys or on the side of the soccer field and watch undisturbed, though not unnoticed. I had to fight off two would-be tour guides to gain my peace while there, but I found exactly what I was looking for.

Dakar: the people

This past weekend I headed to Dakar.  Overall it was a great time.  There was just one blight to my time there: the people I encountered.

OK, so some of that is for shock value.  It’s only partially true to begin with, and I don’t impute it to everyone in Senegal because my small sample set consists almost entirely of people targeting me as a tourist.  However, it is mostly true within that sample set.

Soccer in the Goree square.

Let’s get the bad out of the way so that it ends in sunshine.  “Accosted” might be the best word to describe the approach of the Senegalese I met to trying to sell/get something from me, and they are much less straightforward than elsewhere.  Most other places they all perk up when a white guy goes by, but if you tell them “no” they will entreat you a little (“just a look!”) and then lay it to rest.  Not here.  I was physically pulled by people trying to get me into their shops.  I was followed for blocks on multiple occasions.  I was asked why I was being so rude (a guilt trip -- all I was doing was saying “no thanks”).  When one person opened a conversation by saying that I shouldn’t talk to anyone else in the market because “others push, but I don’t push,” I immediately knew I was in trouble.  People start up normal conversations that I’m sure they would have been willing to carry on forever with the sole purpose of asking for money or a sale from their new friend.

There were really two things that aggravated me most about this approach:

1) Their numerous plays to conversation/wanting to be a friend/wanting to learn about you meant that you were very suspicious of any conversation, which poisons things for me because chatting with the locals is the fastest way to get the inside scoop.

2) Their limitless persistence and the unlimited guilt trip ploys made it come across like they believe that the money was theirs and that I was wronging them by not giving it.  (I don’t think they really think that, but that’s what you might think if you had no context.)

 The first instance was going to dinner the first night.  The place I initially aimed for was closed, and a guy met me and offered to take me to another good place.  With a dozen open-air places that all looked the same, I figured that it was at least better than random chance.  I thought he was with the restaurant, but he was actually on his own and sold art.  Basically he directed people there and they let him hawk art to their customers.  Initially I invited him to join me for dinner since he seemed nice enough and I wasn’t going to be talking to anyone else otherwise.  He got a beer, I got dinner, and we did have an interesting conversation.  He worked in that he was an artist and the got his works, and when I told him I wasn’t planning to take anything home he just made one more attempt.  He got up a couple of times to talk to others who came in, but otherwise we talked.  In the end he told me he needed cab money home, and while I didn’t buy that at all, he did end up with a beer and “cab money” in exchange for being a nice conversation partner and answering my questions about Senegal.

The first bad instance was on the ferry to Goree Island when a guy came up to me and asked me if I had been to Senegal before, saying I looked familiar.  Uh huh.  He wanted to be my guide and I told him I’d prefer to go it alone.  His mistake in asking if I’d been to Senegal before, which I could answer with a declarative no.

The next guy caught me coming off the boat – or more correctly he was the most persistent of the many people who did.  When I told him no, he followed me and asked how I could come to the island and not want a guide for the history.  When I answered that I came specifically to observe alone rather than engage and take a tour, he was not placated.  His mistake was in asking about my internal motivation, something which he can ridicule but cannot question.

The next guy caught me as I was leaving the ferry back on the mainland and was the best of them all.  He was from Freetown and a native English speaker, and started the conversation with a “hey remember me?” but was smart enough to use a generic “back there at the dock, I was talking to the guy in the orange shirt” type answer.  He professed to want to walk and talk to me because he rarely had the chance to talk to other English speakers.  After telling him very politely that no offense but I wanted to be alone, he continued to walk and talk for about another 10 blocks.  At one point he asked what was wrong: “See that point where I told you goodbye?  That was there, this is here, and you’re still with me.”  He kept telling me why he liked talking to people and then skillfully shifted the conversation to “…and I like to get to really know people and then hear their heart, and talk about our situations…” and then in some way that was truly artful threw in a request for money without absolutely destroying the moment he had created.  I had to give him props, even if not money.  His only mistake was his opening line, which made me want to get rid of him as soon as we met.

The final guy was in a market.  A guy followed me and after I repeatedly said I was not going to buy anything, he told me he would take me to where they make everything, so I decided I was willing to watch that and give him a few bucks for it.  When I tried to leave the guy who had repeated a dozen times that he was “not pushy like the others” pushed really hard (despite the money I had already given).  This time it was my mistake: I believed that if I repeatedly and clearly said upfront that I wouldn’t buy anything, they would actually listen and wouldn’t push as hard.  I ended up getting rid of him only when I left the entire market and walked across a boulevard.

With that out of the way, I enjoyed talking with the first art guy at the restaurant and had another great conversation at the end of my Goree Island stay.  I was sitting under a tree in the main plaza just watching everything, and this guy asked if I was OK.  I told him yes and that I was just enjoying it, and we ended up talking.  When he pointed to a shop and said he owned it the defenses came up, but this time we really did just talk – about the economy, politics, and life in Senegal.  Refreshing.

One thing the last guy said was that tourist season didn’t really start until October.  Combined with my own observations that I was the only white guy at the restaurant and in the market, I imagine some of what I experienced was a combination of extra-desperate sellers and no other tourists to share the heat.

A couple other stories:

There is a last story about the art guy from the first night.  I invited him to come sit with me and have a beer and he did order one – a quart beer – but then put it on the ground and hid it behind a piece of his art.  He explained that since Senegal is a mostly Muslim country, it was better for him to drink it discreetly.  Later he took it, went behind a building, and drank the whole thing pretty quickly.  When he returned he started talking with someone else as he took out paper and something else and rolled either a cigarette or a joint.  I was upwind and so I couldn’t tell which, but it’s not like they don’t sell cigarettes on the street.  Either way, I was amused that he had to drink his beer in hiding but could smoke openly.

The guy he was talking to was also my waiter.  He didn’t speak much English (French is the first language there).  He introduced himself as “Ass,” and when I looked surprised he turned around where he pointed confirmed that his name was Ass.  Obviously not the first time someone has been nonplussed by his name.

Power to the People: micro-green and power to the poor

I was reminded of my conversation with the Nigerian professor about how green power makes even more practical sense for developing countries than it does advanced ones:
http://www.economist.com/node/16909923?story_id=16909923

Better late than never

Here are a few odds and ends that were in my mind at one point but never made it to the blog.

Religion:
I went to the Abuja national church to take a look inside. The most prominent interior feature is also the most interesting: it is long and narrow, but rather than having the pulpit/stage at one end, it is smack dab in the middle. Between the organ and choir stand on one side and the media overlook on the other (not kidding), this means that the congregation’s seating is split in two. While the preaching may be just as good from the back as from the front, no one wants the wrong side of that view for an entire service. The solution? The center stage rotates, just like a big rotating concert stage at a Super Bowl performance.

I also found out that, unlike the mosque, there is no full-time pastor. This means the national church is really like a conference center – nothing happens unless someone comes to town or rents it out.

There is a new Nigerian working with me. Last week as we were talking some and getting to know each other he told me incredulously that he had met an American who was not a Christian. An American who isn’t a Christian? How could this be?

For context, remember that Nigeria, at least the southern half, is highly and very openly Christian. I am continually amazed at the number of churches (usually with really long and uplifting names), the death announcements that include notices of multiple church events in the burial ceremonies, the number of people who go around reading devotionals, the Christian columns in newspapers, and the political talk laced with the appropriate references to God.

Corruption:
I have been happily surprised that I have never been explicitly shaken down for money, though there have been plenty of oblique references. Airport workers have seen things in my bag (namely South African Airways biz-class packets that are World Cup themed) and joke about me bringing it for them. I’m sure the answer they want is “sure,” but I haven’t given anything up yet. A lady at a screening post asked me if I brought her any foreign coins. Immigration is always slow, but I haven’t had anyone hassle me to the point where I thought they were holding me up just for money.

At one airport screening the lady wanted to take away my razor blades. They are normal safety blades and I have flow in/out for 2 months with them. I knew it was made up and I’m sure she did, too, so I just argued for about 30 seconds and she relented. I definitely think she was hoping I would pay her to let me keep them.

That hasn’t been the case for everyone, though. When my project manager first arrived a guy was helping him through the airport and told him it was time to pay the “protocol tax” of ~$20, which doesn’t exist. The PM, suspicious but not knowing how to argue against it, insisted on getting a receipt. When the guy took the money but didn’t give a receipt, my PM made a fuss and two guards came over, at which point the other man was very apologetic and claimed there had been a miscommunication.

Culture:
One thing I dislike about this place is that everyone wants to sell you something/do a service for a tip. Props to them for aggressively trying to make money rather than begging, but I don’t want any of it and so I automatically say no when people start approaching me.

Yesterday as I arrived in Senegal a porter tried to take my bags for me. I wouldn’t let go. (My immediate reason: I had no CFA francs, was not going to tip the guy in big USD, and didn’t figure he would have any use for Nigerian naira.) We had an actual tug of war for a second of two before he gave up. Later there was a lady in line ahead of me about to put her bags through an x-ray machine while talking on a cell. Since she only had one hand free the guy came and grabbed her other bag. She was obviously peeved and was telling the guy off, but he stood there with a steel grip, shuffled two feet, and put the bag on the belt for her. Valiant effort, but no tip.

People here are also much more direct. The first day I was here someone was joking with me and said that if I ate too much of something I would “end up like her,” referring to a rotund lady also in the office. The other day an airport screener said she “liked my nose” out of the blue, and this was the same day someone in the office asked where the other McKinsey guy, “the fat one,” was this week.

They also openly talk about stereotypes of the different ethnicities.   For example: how do you know if a Igbo is really dead?  Wave a coin over his nose and see if he still doesn't move.

I commented once before on the newspapers and their contents, but I’ll also comment on how ubiquitous they are. Since internet is much less common and because Nigerian news isn’t exactly the focus of Yahoo.com, newspapers thrive here.

Comms:
I communicate here using a Nigerian cell phone and a Nigerian 3G data card for my computer. It is usually faster than hotel land connections. A 3GB/1 month computer plan costs 10,000 NGN, which is about $66. Not cheap.

Bad comms are a real pain. The internet seems to frequently slow way down between 7-10pm, perhaps because lots of people get on. This means, for example, that I frequently can’t call back to the U.S. using a VOIP number unless I’m plugged into a landline on the weekend. This week there was a day when there was no data service at all – on the bberry or the computer. I have never had a connection anywhere outside of SA, landline or other, that approximates the speeds we take for granted in the U.S.

The rest:
Sometimes I want locals to take a picture for me, and I have learned to very carefully explain how to use the camera. Cell phones are ubiquitous, but people here are frequently intrigued – and stymied – by a digital camera.

This also ties in to something else: a lady at work told me that one of her friends wanted to take a picture with me, and would I agree. I couldn’t really say no, but I just had bad visions of what would happen with the photos. It was an even bigger deal when they brought in someone else with a real camera and external flash to take the picture. Then I realized that it was an old Leica film camera. I was mightily relieved to know that the pictures, though bland, weren’t promptly going all over Nigerian Facebook.