should be asleep

freewrite

silly of me to imagine you wanted to know my truth any more than the next man
naïve to think that my news could do anything but move you to wish you could sever these ties
gaze in fearful awe each time my number hits your screen
and wonder for a split second each time
if somehow down that unopened line i could hear your mind stutter over whether or not to pick up
whether or not to utter lies or keep them inside storing them up under one bigger other

i would run from you if i could, if i remembered how these laces should go, if i could make up for these breached lives
but i don't, can't, won't, instead trip over trailing tongue, flailing, unwise, lay bare thoughts meant for inside
collapse again into tangled heap as i infer more from your silence than you ever knew it could imply

sunday 5th feb 2012 3.19am

late to bed freewrite (2)

i want to freewrite
want to sit here and pour words
indiscriminate
onto the page
let them spill from me like the ones before
where i lay myself bare to your scrutiny
offered up heart, so unplanned, i forgot the wrapping
forgot to deliver at least some pretext of forward planning
some subtlety to turn raw into nuance
just slapped it down unenhanced
bloody, raging, pulsing on that slab

but if i let myself
go
now
as i did then...

i am sorry
i cannot

day 12 in nigeria - end times

it's going on for 3pm. I have about 9 more hours on nigerian soil, to bask and bake and be whoever it is when i'm out here - some kind of hybrid of my usual self, overlaid with the slightly more boisterous, bolshier bit of me that, along with an undercurrent of custom, seems to be released a little more when i speak yoruba and hang out with *nigerian* nigerians.

the day has been spent so far packing and repacking, my mum's prediction this morning that we might not use up all our baggage allowance (2 x 23kg each…) proved just a little too optimistic after all. i'm just hoping there's no bother at customs, what with all the food and other stuff that we're bringing back. buying and selling is in my mum's blood - my grandma was a trader, and my mum has been doing it since she was small.  the entrepreneurial spirit seems to have resolutely skipped me though - perhaps that's my own rebellion, my disregard for commerce and a tidy profit margin, no matter how modest.

in the living room, my cousins have just finished picking efirin leaves.  my cousin has gone to town to go buy some more stuff for us to take back.  i've stopped trying to protest at any of it - i know from years of experience it makes little difference.  and it wouldn't be a proper trip home if we didn't go back laden with half the wares of lagos' market.

james blake is pulsing from the speakers, and my cousins argue about boko haram and goodluck jonathan.  the copier repair man is repairing, and outside a couple of workmen are working on the well.  my mum wanders in and out of the room, slightly distracted, i guess, by leaving home and family to go back to a country she's never fully embraced, but can now never fully leave.

the heat… god, the heat.

someone asked me last night why i could never live in nigeria.  i found it difficult to articulate it in a way that could be easily understood.  i love so many things about being here, but… it would be like being regressed to childhood again, having to learn the basics all over, and learn also to accept the way things are done - those that i accept wholeheartedly, and others less so.  i'll just have to accept the in-between solution - feel at home when i'm here, but understand that part of that feeling is linked to the temporary nature of my stay. (hmmm - current song - limit to your love)

right. i think that's it from here - i should go interact with my family before i won't see them again for another half a dozen years. or maybe just go doze in the heat. or take another cold shower. whatever. i'm off to take my leave.

day 11 in nigeria - one more sleep

at 8.06 this morning, i was woken up for a visitor - turns out the tailor had arrived with all my new clothes.  everything fit, and looked like i described it, which is pretty awesome.  personal tailoring is kind of cool when it all goes right.

in the living room, a hair-dresser (who'd arrived at something like 7.30) was doing my mum's hair.  next door, the school kids were singing along with their hugely loud drumming.  i felt like maybe i was starting my day a little late.

just one more sleep until we leave, and already i've started thinking about work… i charged my phone yesterday, and must the network must have switched itself back on - a flood of work e-mails had got through, a few about a presentation i'm doing at a conference in glasgow in about 10 days.  the thought of it makes me feel a little sick, so i've managed for the most part not to think about while i've been away.  I really wish I'd ignored those notifications…

Last night was my most epic battle yet with the mosquitoes.  we (very foolishly) didn't fleet the room (spray with insecticide) before we went to bed.  which normally isn't too much of a problem.  but last night, they were out with a vengeance - maybe they heard we're leaving tomorrow.  i was awake a lot, and scratching like a fiend - this morning i woke up with massive bumps on both arms, an itchy ankle, and a suspiciously puffy eyelid.  and my mum, sleeping in the same bed? absolutely nothing.  this happened in tunisia too - i'd get up every morning, itchy and bumpy, or sit in the house, slapping at my arms and legs, while my mum and aunt would intimate it was all in my head, given that they'd not been attacked.  stupid mosquitoes.
- - - - - - -

so, we fly in 25 hours. we've not packed yet. there're ewedu leaves drying in one spot, beans in another bag, and piles of clothes all over the place.
my cousins came round to spend our last night together - they're sat all eating together (i ate earlier), and we're all sat sweltering together - like the mosquitoes, it seems the heat came out in force today to see us off.

the day passed mainly non-eventfully (another load of exam questions, another field negro podcast). except for another visit from my uncle with someone i spent over an hour having an ultimately pointless conversation with - it was like we were both speaking different languages, even when we weren't. thank God we fly tomorrow.

for now, though, i'll go chat to my cousins, wait for the 'fleet' to die down, and hopefully not re-incur the wrath of the local bloodsuckers tonight.  maybe there'll even be sleep tonight.

day 10 in nigeria - in balance

got home last night after a 2½ hour journey from a market, weirdly exhausted, so this one's a day late (not that it makes any difference, given i won't be posting them until i get back anyway).

so, yesterday was one of my favourite days - it involved a trip to yaba market with my cousin, and with 4 hours on the road, that included a lot of road-side sight-seeing.

highlights included:
- wheelbarrows piled high with melons, yam, and sugarcane

- a number of cars (for some reason, i noted particularly some type of peugeot and a nissan sunny bluebird, which was once our family car) stuffed to the windows in the backseat and the boot with massive bunches of green bananas

- amazing feats of balancing - people in the marketplaces carrying all sorts on their heads, often without the needs for hands to steady them.  masses of stuff - huge baskets of peppers and tomatoes, big 'ghana-must-go's (the big shopping bags) full of only god knows what, a row of cushions (seriously) - everything!

- passengered-up okadas, one on which i swear the guy at the back had a baby goat across his lap…

- motorbikes and cars crossing the central boundary of the roads to make u-turns; a massive trailer truck, which i'm pretty sure didn't actually intend to cross the central reserve, strewn across the road, luckily not overturned, but resulting in a huge go-slow both ways

- an escaped goat, from one of the roadside goat areas.  ok - very poor explanation - in some places, beside the road, there are loads of troughs, surrounded by masses of goats for sale; as far as i can tell, they're not actually tied up, though i may be wrong on that count.  whatever the case, this particular goat had decided to make a run for it, and managed to make it safely across the 4 lanes of traffic, followed closely by its owner.  everyone in the bus erupted into laughter, especially when (as far as we could tell) the goat ended up jumping into a wheelbarrow it encountered on the other side

- incredible grin-inducing feats of balancing

- a pair of young-looking school kids crossing the busy roads, one holding on to the rucksack straps of the other

- a massive congregation praying maghrib under a pedestrian overpass, with one guy balancing on a bench, and me thinking 'wow, so that really happens'

- a man slouched, arms crossed, against his broken down car, pushed into the high grass at the side of the road, just waiting

- driving that managed to be simultaneously terrifying and exciting - like watching formula one from the passenger seat, racing cars replaced by motorcycles, normal cars, minibuses, big buses, and huge trucks. oh yeah, and pedestrians

- death-defying hawkers, who sell their wares along the roadside, and often, in the road, weaving between vehicles, running to keep up with their customers, keeping an eye and ear out for potential sales

- and did i mention, superbly spectacular feats of balancing?

day 9 in nigeria - buying bread

I took three of my favourite pictures today - the first two were of each of the little boys, Uthman & Sultan, who rent the house next door to my grandma's.  Our family owns the house, which seems to be a common thing - for houses/bungalows to be built as semi-detached, as it were, and then for one of those to be rented out, while the family uses the other one.  I was sat outside, using the last of the daylight to type example questions, when Sultan, the littlest (about 2), walked past, and me and my cousin (another one) noticed that he seemed to be wearing make-up.  His aunt had made him and his little brother up - I always find it quite hilarious how older siblings and parents do that to little boys, make them up and dress them in girls' clothes, but would probably not think it so cute if he turned up dressed like that in about 15 years' time (though perhaps I underestimate them).  Uthman, the older brother (about 7 or 8) approached us with his hands over his face, but eventually agreed to let me take his picture two.  I love both their expressions, and how they contrast with the makeup and how little they both are.

The third photo is one of my cousin, sat reading exam questions by torchlight, as the electricity had just gone off (for about the fourth time - it's been pretty messed up today).  I like the light and shadows in that one.

This afternoon has been mainly spent typing (sigh), whilst listening to another of the Field Negro Guide to the Arts & Cultiure podcasts, and later Mashrou' Leila, Silence 4 and Manic Street Preachers.  But earlier in the day, I actually escaped the house, and went to a local market with my mum and aunt.  We bought a load of random stuff, pako (chewing sticks), barra (no idea what it is - some kind of bitter vegetable with medicinal properties), ori (shea butter - a whole massive lump (about ⅔ the size of a football) for N1,300 (about £4.50) and some ankara (a type of printed material) for headties.  It was really haggle-central, with my mum and aunt both really going to town - with some of the traders it was like good-humoured sparring, but there were some people who were clearly just like 'this is the price - take it or leave it', which is fair enough - I can't deal with the intricacies of bartering - offer too low a price, they think you're taking the mick, too high, and you show you've no idea what you're doing.  So basically, I just leave it to the experts, and only get involved when they're about to walk away from something I really want to buy.
I really wish I could have taken some photos in the market, but it wasn't a very relaxed visit, and by the time we were through, I was too loaded down with stuff to even think about getting my camera out.

I was left home alone (again) for the afternoon, so decided to strike out on my own to buy bread.  There are places in the market places where you can buy bread, but generally, the best (freshest) loaves are from the women who carry them around on giant wooden trays with legs.  I thought I saw a bread-woman out of the window, grabbed my money, and ran out - it actually turned out to be wishful thinking.  But then I spotted a woman further up the road - and set out after her.  To avoid looking like a total freak running after her in the street, I had to just stride purposefully, and hope she'd be slowed down by what she had on her head.  It worked, and I bought a loaf of bread, quite probably grinning inanely the whole time.  Bread and stew for lunch, and bread and Bournvita ('tea') for dinner (it's pretty much been carb city since I've been here) - hmmm.

Anyways, the lights have just all gone out for about the 5th time today (apparently the workers of NEPA are on strike - personally, I think they're just mucking about with the switches), so I'll take that as a hint to call it a night (though this is doing wonders for my touch-typing…).  Until the light returns.

ps - discovery that has most tickled me today: there is a bus-stop in Lagos called 'Tom Jones. Brilliant.

day 8 in nigeria - elastic ties

i had intended to write about family today - how amazing it is to be close to people i so rarely get to see and seldom interact with when i'm not here, and that wonder of how, with certain family members, there will always be that connection, no matter how long or far apart you are.

but…

it's 10.20pm, and my mum and aunt aren't back from town yet.  and you're probably thinking, well, hell, they're not children, and and 10.20 at night isn't exactly late.  but that's in london time.  or maybe even in nigeria time, if you are from round here, and so are familiar with the place (i guess just as this time of night in south london feels fine to me, while i know many people not from there who are terrified at the mere thought of being out on our mean streets after sundown - all those hooded youths, with their patois…).  but the thing is, as much is this may feel like home in some ways, i'm not from round here - i don't know the area that well, i don't know how safe it is for them to be out at this time of night on public transport, and most of all, i don't have any way to contact them to find out where they are/how long they'll be/if they're ok.  for the past couple hours, i've contemplated going round to the neighbours to ask to borrow their phone - just a 10 second call would stop my imagination going into overdrive (too late) and allow me to avoid freaking out.

for the first time today, i actually got a little homesick (and that's quite a big thing - i normally never get homesick for london, much as i love the place).  i was listening to podcasts - an adam & joe one from last year's camden crawl, and then the brilliant w. kamau bell chatting to aamer rahman (from the australian comedy duo, fear of a brown planet') and then ava vidal (from the british comedy non-duo, ava vidal).  these podcasts ( from w. kamau bell & vernon reid's 'the field negro guide to arts and culture' - which are amazing - check them out) were from the end of the edinburgh festival, and touch on, amongst other things, the london riots, race and comedy, and some differences in the american and british comedy world.  and for some reason, listening to these guys made me really miss london, and little conveniences like being able to just google something/someone, or logging into facebook to chat to friends or twitter to post about something or other.  and i miss being able to go out on my own.  i guess it's this last that's the most pressing, really, feeling stuck in the house if there's no-one around to get out of it with, partly because i don't know the local area, partly because it's not really the kind of place you just wander about aimlessly on your own.  so i guess i'm getting a bit of cabin fever - it seems a real shame to come all this way to spend so many hours stuck indoors, with the only other option being going stock-shopping with my ma. (by the way, just as i got to the middle of this paragraph, they knocked on the door - there'd been hold ups coming out of town).  that said, this time next week, i'll probably already be complaining about having no time to spend indoors, just doing what i want. (though at least i won't have been roped into typing up exam question papers, which is what a lot of today has been spent doing..!). 

that said, just three full days left here now (we leave on saturday), and that is making me feel kind of sad too.  as i started with, there's something so brilliant about being 'home', reconnecting with family.  i've grown up often away from any extended family - apart from my mum's mum, who lived with us in london for a few years, i never really knew any of my grandparents (the only times i saw them being on my infrequent trips to nigeria).  aside from a few cousins, most of our family lives either out here, or in the states.  as such, i've never really grown up knowing family that well.  but whenever we come out, there's always a warm welcome, and it feels very natural to share space and time with aunts, uncles and cousins, picking up on things as though there hadn't been a 5 year gap between meetings.  and the love, and expression of care, is just so lovely - just little things - one cousin giving us one of the chickens he rears, another coming over with pineapples and plantain, my uncle turning up last night with a bunch of bananas, and so many of them taking time out just to come over, to come chat, to come share a little of their life with the londoners before we disappear off again.  and even though i do have loads of amazing and wonderful friends, so many live far away also, and despite all the things i have to look forward to once i'm back in london, i will miss being part of a big family - not wanting them there all the time, but knowing they could be there if i wanted or needed them to be.  i'll miss that a lot.

hmmm - after my rather self-indulgent blog, a couple (well, a triple) of cool things to redress the balance:

- the stars - last night i went out to meet my uncle at the gate, to get the bananas he'd brought over. on my way back in, i stopped and stared up at the sky.  i forgot how many more stars you can see out here.  it must have been pretty funny for anyone looking out, to see me stood there, wrapper trailing and mouth agape, a sort of half-smile dopily slung across my face.  luckily, everyone else was asleep, so there was no-one there to witness me looking like a kid who just discovered the night sky for the first time.

- cutting a melon - i don't particularly like melon - it has just enough taste to put me off, and not quite enough to make up for its existence. so, given that i never eat melon, i've never actually cut one.  i did tonight for the first time, slicing one up for my mum, aunt and cousin after their long day out.  it was the most satisfying thing to cut up *ever*  the blade sliced through with just the right amount of resistance, and a perfect shirring with each slice.  seriously, i might take up eating water melon, just to have that perfect satisfaction of slicing it up (or maybe just take to offering it to all guests that come round.

- thinking in yoruba - i've found since i've gotten here, i've started thinking in yoruba, and sometimes having difficulty thinking of the right word in english for something that has no quite right equivalent, but can be said so perfectly in yoruba.  this happens anyway in london, but it's become even more so here.  i like it. good work, mind.